Page 33 of Crawl
I need to establish boundaries between us. For fuck’s sake, she wants to play house, like I’m her fiancé, and even though going on that god-forsaken double date will give me a clue on how best to frame her, it’s the exact opposite of everything I stand for. The only family dinners I remember from the foster care system ended in blood, and I’m not willing to relive that because Remedy has an intriguing penchant for violent lust.
Bones lazily weaves herself in and out of my feet, her body vibrating with purrs. I scratch behind her ears before she hops up the wooden stairs leading to the master bedroom’s balcony. Just like Remedy, Bones is supposed to be gone by now, but she keeps sticking around. Giving her food doesn’t help. It’s like BonesandRemedy are my newest pets, and they both think they have more autonomy than they actually do.
Am I going soft?
I follow Bones up to the balcony, then settle down on the cushioned wicker sectional, propping my feet on a throw pillow. When it comes to Remedy, the thought of fucking her in front of her mother intrigues me, and I know, without a doubt, that I can make Remedy do it. But it can also derail my plans. I can’t push Remedy too far if I want to keep manipulating her. In a situation like this, you have to move with careful deliberation. You have to make her think it’s her own volition.
Perhaps there’s something else I can do, showing her that as much as she wants to believe that it’s blackmail, shewantsme. Even if she wants to kill me too.
Just like I want to frame or kill her.
But not until I’m done.
I roll the cuffs of my shirt, concealing my tan lines. I may as well go to that stupid dinner date; I can use it against her.
I dial Remedy, sucking in a full breath. The phone rings then goes to voicemail:Hi, this is Remedy Basset. Leave a message and I’ll—
I hang up. It’s not like her to miss a call. What’s she doing?
She got off of work an hour ago, but her LPA contract dictates that she has to be available atalltimes to ensure her bonus at the end of the year. She never ignores my calls.
I tap my fingers on the woven armrest. With some effort, I find a loose reed and yank it up, sewing it in and out of the fibers until I finally snap it off. I check the app that’s connected to her webcam, but her laptop is closed; there’s no image. My temple pulses.I’mthe one who ignores phone calls.I’mthe one who makes those decisions.I’mthe one who controls her.
I dial again.
No answer.
I glance in the direction of her home. There’s always another option.
I park my truck a few blocks away from her rental house. As I approach, my blood boils: another car, one I don’t recognize, sits behind her red sedan. Another fucking truck. Once I confirm with a quick check that she’s in her bedroom with whoever the hell it is, I find her spare key and go through the back door. I keep the locks on the properties well-oiled; it helps when people can’t hear you enter.
Inside of the hall closet, I close the door behind me, then let myself into the hatch and inch across the crawl space to the wall cavity, bumping up against the hard foam insulation. In the peephole, I see her desk. Her closed laptop. A bottle of lime soda opened next to it.
Remedy doesn’t drink soda.
Then I hear a male voice.
Who the fuck is that? And why is shealonewith him?
I snap my jaw together so hard, my teeth grind.I’mthe one who gets to be alone with her. Not this garbage. I strain closer, pressing my ear to the inner wall. I need to hear everything.
“But you quit SAA, right?” he asks.
Does he mean Sex Addicts Anonymous? If Remedy quit, then that means that she was a member for a while.
“I told you: just because I like it rough doesn’t mean I’m an addict,” she says.
My stomach hardens. I want to pinch the bridge of my nose, but in the wall cavity, I can’t do anything. I’m stuck listening.
“You don’t like it rough; you like it brutal,” he chuckles.
The fact that he knows that means they’re close. That he knows her intimately. Spots flash in my vision as I strain to see through the peephole, to get one peek at that bastard so I can commit his image to memory. I swear to the world that if he lays a hand on her, I will cut him up on top of her.
I’m losing my mind.
“So?” Remedy asks.
“So, that’s what I’m saying. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe it’s a phase you’re going through. We can have fun, even if it is a little—” he pauses, “—weird. Everyone’s weird, right? We can help each other out.”
