Page 8 of Caution Tape

Without another word I turn to leave, feeling his gaze on my backside as I head for the door.

A bright white light invading the room is not the only thing that wakes me from my deep slumber. There’s a loud rumble coming from beside me.

Snoring.

You have got to be kidding me.

Slightly lifting my head, I take in the sight of smeared mascara all over my pillowcase. There’s a dull throbbing in my skull as I cover my face with my hands, hiding from the harsh morning light. This hangover is no joke.

Fumbling for my phone on the nightstand beside the bed, my stomach gurgles. The din of it is almost louder than the sound of what’s-his-names’ obnoxious wheezing from beside me.

Right on cue, my head pounds even harder.

I thought my Tinder days were over.

But here we are. Just another night I never got off, and another man who couldn’t make me feel the everlasting bliss of an orgasm everyone always raves about.

I told myself that I was done with trying to fill the void inside me with random men. It’s never worked before, so what makes me think that it would scratch the itch now?

His snoring grows louder with each passing second. Anger floods through me as I climb out of bed. Everything goes black.

Suddenly, I’m standing over him with my favorite kitchen knife.

I’m going to kill him.

I’m going to fucking kill him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two—

“Mm,” he sighs, rolling onto his side so his back is facing me.

I squeeze the grip of the knife so tightly that all the color drains from my fingers. My heart thuds hard in my ribcage. I can hear the blood pulsing in my ears. Little white dots disrupt my vision, and my head swims.

“Shit,” I snarl, reaching for the headboard to keep myself balanced.

“What are you doing?”

I look down at him.

His gaze sets on the knife in my grasp as he scoots to the other side of the bed, staring up at me like I have ten heads. “Woah, what are you doing?” he repeats.

“Leave,” I grit out, exhaling sharply, fighting the random burst of dizziness.

He doesn’t move.

“Get the fuck out!” I scream, swinging the knife at him as I leap onto the bed. “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out or I will fucking kill you!”

“What the fuck!” he shouts, bursting into the hallway as I chase after him. “You crazy bitch! Fucking psycho!”

He manages to slip out the front door before I get the chance to bury the blade in his back.

“Shit,” I breathe out, gasping for air.

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