Page 43 of Forget Me Not

Finally, he lets me go and I curl back over again, gasping for air.

“We’re going to have a nice life together, Rhea. I promise you that.” He opens the door but doesn’t bother to shut it as he walks away.

With my hands on my knees, I watch as he walks down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Then I drop to the floor and break down. Tears fall carelessly down my cheeks as I think of ways I can try and outmaneuver this man, but I have nothing. I don’t take Alaric to be a liar, and I certainly don’t find him to be forgiving.

I crawl to my door and lock it as my body folds in on itself, still sitting on the floor. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone to call Dex while Alaric’s words replay in my mind.If you tell anyone about this, me, or us, I will punish you twice as hard.

Instead of calling Dex, I dial the tavern.

“Taryn’s Tavern, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Taryn. It’s Rhea.”

“Hi, hun. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m just trying to reach Tyler. We have plans tonight, but I have to cancel and I don’t have his number.”

“Actually,” she says. “He’s been waiting for you here.”

There’s a beat of silence before Tyler comes on the line. “Canceling on me?”

“I’m so sorry, Tyler. I think I’m coming down with something.” I cough a few times into the phone for added emphasis.

“Shit, Rhea. Sorry to hear that. Of course, it’s no problem. We’ll just reschedule for another time. Get some rest.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“No worries. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

A mixture of regret and guilt floods through me as I say, “Okay.”

I end the call and drop my phone beside me before completely falling apart. It’s been years since I’ve cried this hard.

Three years, to be exact…

“Hey, baby. You lost?”

I keep walking, not daring to give this scumbag a moment of my time. I just need to get back to my hotel room with this bag of food, because I’m fucking starving. It’s the first time I’ve had an appetite in weeks and I was able to scrape up enough money for a burger and fries.

The man continues to stumble drunkenly behind me, clutching a crumpled brown paper bag wound around a bottle of liquor.

“I just wanna talk,” he calls out as I pick up my pace, trying to get away from him.

My stomach turns and I'm not sure if it's the all-day morning sickness I've been having, or the overpowering scent of stale beer and cigarettes coming off this guy. His thick beard holds scraps of food and God knows what else. I clench my nose just thinking of how rancid his breath probably is.

He’s been following me down the alley for five minutes. All I need is two more and I can turn out of here and onto the main road, where he’ll get spooked by witnesses and leave me the fuck alone.

“I’m fucking talking to you, bitch!” he stutters as the smell of him draws closer.

The next thing I know, two men step out from beside a dumpster, but these ones are much better put together than the one behind me.

Both are wearing matching black leather jackets with baseball caps that obscure their features. One of them towers over the other, and he's holding something in his hand at his side that glints briefly in the light from a nearby window. It's not until he steps forward that I see it's a gun.

My heart leaps into my throat and I quickly turn around, bumping into the old man who is following.

“Earl, my friend,” one of the guys singsongs. “You always bring us the best snacks.”

I look the man, who I take to be Earl, in the eye. A sly smirk spreads across his face as his laughter echoes off the surrounding buildings. It's a coarse, throaty sound that carries the strong scent of stale beer. His snake-like tongue slips out of his mouth as he curls over in laughter, sloshing some of the liquid from the bottle he's still clutching.

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