Page 66 of My Girl
“You’re a dead man, you fucking bastard,” I mutter.
“That so?”
The mall cop gives a knowing smile, like there’s mutual hatred in our bones. Chills erupt all over me. He zips his pants and puts his gun back in the holster.
“We all die in the end, ain’t that right?” He winks. “But you callingmea bastard? Something tells me your daddy didn’t want you either.”
I see red. My body seizes with the urge to grab his gun and kill him myself. Right fucking now.
“You’re going to die one day,” I whisper. “And I’m going to enjoy it.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He grins like a jackal. “I hope you do.”
He leaves me there in the living room.
Anger seethes inside of me. I don’t move.
A car engine turns on, then rumbles away. He must be reparking.
A man like Officer Gaines is the exact wrong person to put in a position of authority, even if he’s only the head of security at a mall. He can’t get away with this, and if I tell Ned, he won’t. Ned will fire him, and together we’ll go to the police. It may take years, but eventually, Officer Gaines will go to jail, especially if I do a rape kit right now.
But jail isn’t enough.
Images form in my brain: the leather mask clinging to Crave’s skin. The mesh-covered eyes. A knife in his gloved hand. The thrust of the blade into the mall cop’s stomach as I sit onhisface, making himeat my ass as he dies.
There’s something infinitely more satisfying about that scenario.
I won’t tell Ned or the police.
But Iwilltell Crave.
Chapter21
Rae
That night,I wait for Crave to show up in my apartment. I even go to the Galloway House. But like a tumbleweed scattering across the desert, Crave disappears. Even his mask—which I hid in my nightstand—vanishes.
By the time Penny comes to the Galloway House the following morning, I’m sitting next to the blood-stained couch. She gestures at the furniture.
“What happened?” she asks.
For a moment, I see Officer Gaines and those two brown-haired men circling around me like vultures. Crave stands behind them, a luminous shadow, their executioner waiting in the darkness.
“A decoration,” I say. “I spilled a bottle of fake blood. Got it from that year-round Halloween store in Vegas.”
“Authentic.” She pinches her nose. “It reeks.”
“We can light candles during the party.”
“We’ll need to. The blood and the candles will add to the atmosphere though.”
Each day, we work on the final touches of cleaning, decorating, and inviting anyone in the area who may be interested. When they aren’t receptive to Penny’s invitation, I turn on the charm, and eventually, they all RSVP.
A week goes by like this. My mind is mush, too distracted by everything that’s happened. By the fact that Crave is gone exactly when I need him. And still, each night, I go back to the house. I walk around the basement. I keep my gun close to my chest—double-checking that it’s actually loaded this time—ready to shoot the hitmen or the mall cop.
Crave never shows.
Desperation crawls up my toes, bubbling between my ribs, until I stare at those cameras in my bedroom, knowing that he must be watching me.
