Page 18 of Merciless

The neighbors started coming out of their houses, they have probably heard me screaming at her. Gasps and shouting surrounded us. All I could focus on were her moans as she tried to free herself from me.

“Did anyone call 911?” a woman asked. My mother actually. Her voice was alert but still sounded pretty normal. Something I couldn’t say about some other female residents of our street who were piercing my ears with their howls.

“Stop fighting me,” my lips touched her ear and she quivered. “I won’t let you go back in there.”

I allowed myself to think for a second; it was my touch that made her tremble, but it was in the middle of the night, and she was almost naked. She was wearing a t-shirt that barely covered her ass.

The ass that was now pressed against my groin by the way.

Besides, she was probably in shock and obviously N.O.T. into me as she has proven over and over again for years.

Much to my surprise, she did what she was told. She stopped fighting. She was breathing heavily, her eyes never leaving the sight of her burning home.

I took my hands off her, and I expected her to give me shit about what I did.

She didn’t even turn to look at me. She just stared at the fire. I took a step back to give her some space, but not enough for her to be able to flee.

My father made me a sign to ask if I’m OK. I nodded. Troy, my little brother, was glued to his side and looked terrified.

Fuck, that fire looked terrifying to me, and I was not a child anymore.

Clementine, on the other hand, didn’t look scared at all. Or unhappy. She looked… mesmerized?

Weirdo.

I looked at Sylvia. She was surrounded by people. I only saw her feet. She looked like a corpse. I was glad Clementine wasn’t looking in that direction.

I heard sirens, and, a minute later, paramedics were examining Sylvia, and firefighters were trying to put out the fire. From the outside it looked like it had consumed everything inside the house. Clem literally had only that old t-shirt she was wearing and nothing else. Her mother was unconscious, and there was no one here for her.

I didn’t want to be the one consoling her.

“Do you want me to call someone?” I asked.

“Hannah,” she mouthed more than vocalized.

Of course. Hannah. I could have figured that out on my own.

As I dialed, I saw a scratch that started from my wrist and ended almost at my elbow. I felt Clementine scratching me while I was pulling her away from her house, but I didn’t think she could actually leave me bleeding. I was amused and impressed. I looked at her and grinned.

Freak.

Ten minutes later Hannah arrived. She jumped out of her car in pajamas and socks. No shoes. No jacket.

Sylvia was already taken to the hospital, and a police officer was questioning Clementine, or at least he was trying, and I was standing nearby, feeling oddly protective of her. She had a hard time forming a coherent sentence, and it didn’t feel right to leave her alone. But now that Hannah was here, I could.

I should.

I didn’t.

That guy was an asshole who tormented her while she clearly wasn’t fit to answer his stupid questions.

“Officer, maybe I could be of use, since I’m the one who woke them up?” I asked, and Clementine turned her head in my direction. Her confused look rattled me.

She was a mess. Her hair was tangled, and her face was covered in soot. If I lined her up in row right now with every other girl from school in their tight dresses with their perfect hairdos, she would still be the most beautiful.

I pushed that thought aside.

“I mean, she’s in shock or something, and her house just burned down.”

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