Page 75 of Crawl
But if that means protection from the Crawler, will I ever feel like myself without Cash?
My phone buzzes with a text from Cash:Tonight.
I close the message without answering. I can barely breathe, so I call Jenna, even though I know Cash is probably tapping my phone calls somehow. I just won’t say any details.
“Hey lady,” she says.
“You have a minute?”
“Of course.” The noise in the background dulls; she’s moving to another room. “What’s up?”
“Say you’ve done something bad,” I say.
“How bad are we talking?”
“Murder bad?”
She laughs. “Gotcha. Keep going.”
“And you’re—” I smack my chest; I hate saying this, but it’s true, “—and you’re in love with someone who does way more bad things than you do. And now you’ve got the chance to turn that person in to the police.”
“Is your question whether you should do what’s right or protect your love interest?”
I cup my face. She always knows me. “What do I do? I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“What do you think you should do?”
I scoff: “The right thing.”
“And what do youwantto do?”
I suck in a deep breath. “The wrong thing.”
She sighs, a wistful sound to her voice, and I wish I could tell her everything. How is it that being with Cash makes me feel safe, comforted, and more isolated than I have ever been in my life? Why am I drawn to his constant danger?
If he takes Jenna from me, I’ll never forgive him.
“You know I don’t judge,” she says. “Messed up things happen. But it’s up to you to do what you think is right. Life isn’t fair, and we don’t get second chances, you know?”
All of that rings true; there’s nothing fair about any of this. My mother constantly trusted the wrong men. Winstone assaulted Jenna, treating her like she didn’t deserve common decency. My stepbrother punched me into silence. And my stepdad, a man I was supposed to trust, raped me for years. These murders? In the end, they don’t seemthatdifferent. They’re another crime. Another choice.
And I’ve killed too. I’m the same as Cash.
But Dean didn’t hurt me like my stepbrother or stepdad. Dean’s only fault was being too nice for us to be compatible. And now, he’s dead.
Cash, on the other hand? Cash has more faults than almost anyone I know, and yet Itrusthim. I know he’d do anything for me. Even if it means locking me in a cage or killing everyone I know.
“He hasn’t killed me yet,” I say quietly.
“Your lover? Who is this guy?” she laughs. “That shouldn’t be a factor, Remmie. You’re just joking, right?”
I wish I was joking, but Cash is real. My phone dings and I check the notification:Cashflashes on the screen, with an alert on the top bar for six missed calls. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up again. The last time I missed his calls, he showed up at my rental house while I was talking to my ex-boyfriend. It’s like a single missed call can make him homicidal.
He’s dangerous. And he wants me.
“I gotta go,” I say.
“Keep me posted. And later, youhaveto fill me in.”
