Page 40 of Bleed for Me

“Why?” I finally ask out loud.

He tilts his head, “I already told you, I have a need-”

I wave him off. “No, I know, I heard that part. But why them? Why kill those people? What did they do to you?”

He shrugs and nonchalantly states, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I squeak.

He regards me for a moment before coming and enveloping me in his arms again, “We all die at some point, little bird. Their time just happened to be then.” He nuzzles my neck but I shove against him.

“What gives you the right to decide that? Who told you that you can just…kill people?” I force out the words.

This can’t be real. I can’t be having this conversation right now.

“I did.” He grips my face and forces me to look at him. “Idecided. I grew up with a shitty father in an equally shitty place and discovered that life doesn’t mean anything. There’s no heaven, no hell, no higher power pulling the strings. No one to come to the rescue or provide what we need.” His voice cracks in anguish.

I picture a young Mick crying out for someone to help and, much like my own prayers, met with silence. My heart aches at the image.

“There’s only you and I and every other fucked up human being on this planet stumbling through life.” He peers into my eyes, begging me to understand. “We have to take our pleasure where we can. To satisfy our needs, our desires, in order to truly live. And that’s what I’m doing, Paige. Other’s lives have been forfeited so thatIcanlive.” He crushes his mouth against mine. I struggle against him but he doesn’t let up. True to his word, Mick takes what he needs from me.

My mind whirls as I replay his words. I still don’t understand how he came to the conclusion that his life is somehow worth more than another’s. A sickening feeling settles in my stomach as it dawns on me that I was just thinking the same earlier when it was his life or mine in question.

I open my eyes as he devours my mouth and let the feeling settle over me. An anguished acceptance engulfs my being.

At this moment, he and I aren’t that different.

And, because I’m choosing myself too, I close my eyes and lean into the kiss.

Mick and I settle into a comfortable routine. He sleeps in his bedroom while I crash on the couch. By the time I wake up, he’s gone and returns late at night with food. Since our talk, he’s much more relaxed around me, like he’s let go of a heavy weight that has been tying him down and now he can freely exist. I spend a lot of time replaying what he said in my mind, mulling it over now that I'm not dulled by the effects of alcohol.

One thing has become clear, I don’t know myself anymore. Maybe I never really did.

The desire to hurt him back for what he did to me is still there, simmering under the surface, but I no longer want him dead. Instead, I find myself curious, wanting to know more about the man who has discovered how to live for his own enjoyment. So that’s what I do. Every night as we eat dinner at the table, I badger him with endless questions. He’s usually open and willing to provide answers. The only subject he shies away from is his childhood and family. I don’t push him on it, not yet at least.

We’re currently mowing down on Chinese takeout. I’m asking questions around mouthfuls of mar far chicken and lo mein, oddly at ease with the man who I wanted to stab not that long ago. He looks up at me as I’ve paused my attack on the food and smiles, “Any other questions tonight?” His tone has a hint of amusement as he leans back and raps his knuckles on the table.

I study him before asking something that’s been plaguing my mind for a while but haven’t yet had the courage to broach. “You said you own your own company?” He nods in encouragement as I pause. Clearing my throat I stammer, “What, um, what’s the name of it?”

Mick doesn’t respond immediately, raising his hand to rub his chin. I pick at the remaining food on my plate as the seconds tick by. “Why do you want to know?” He finally asks.

I can understand his hesitation. The more details I know about him, the more dangerous it is if I ever get free again.

I shrug and shove another piece of chicken in my mouth, buying time as I chew. Swallowing, I admit the truth. “Honestly, I’m curious and I…I want to get to know you more.” I look down at the table, avoiding his gaze. I feel shame wash over me at the admission. I shouldn’t want to know more about him, I should be trying to run away again. But the way he has been with me since our conversations…I find myself intrigued and drawn to him in a way I can’t rationalize.

Mick’s fingers gently tug on my chin, lifting my face so he can look at me. His eyes are soft as he studies me in silence before stroking his thumb over my lip and pulling his hand away. Leaning back, he takes a drink and clears his throat, setting the glass back on the table. He averts his eyes and looks almost embarrassed as he answers. “Mickstruction.” He mumbles. “The name of my business is Mickstruction.”

Watching his face closely, I wait for the joke. That name, it’s truly awful. When he doesn't say anything else, I laugh. He whips his head toward me, a scowl on his gorgeous face. I laugh harder and shake my head. Grumbling, he picks up his chopsticks and stabs a piece of chicken. “It’s not that funny.”

Gasping, I try to regain my composure. “Mick, that name is so bad.” He glares at me and another laugh pushes past my defenses. “Truly terrible. How does anyone take you seriously?” I giggle and take a drink of water, watching him over the rim.

Sighing heavily, Mick drops his hands to the table and glowers at me. “They take us serious because we are damn good at what we do. The best really.” He taps his finger on the table to accentuate the claim. I resist rolling my eyes at the blatant narcissism. “And, to be perfectly honest, it started as a joke.” He shrugs, a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. “My buddies and I talked about starting the business but none of them had the guts to move forward with it. So, we all got drunk one night and the name was thrown out, and my dumbass decided to file for the business license that night while a fifth of whiskey deep.” A grin breaks across his face as he recalls the memory. “It was too late at that point, and I was too prideful to back out, so I stuck with it.” He joins in when I start to laugh again, looking at me with a joyful freedom shining in his eyes. “Honestly, the ridiculousness of it worked. Helped clients remember us when we were first starting out. Also made us seem more approachable and down to earth, which people really gravitate towards.”

I smile at him, imagining him with his friends, all joking and carefree. My smile fades as I think of Taylor and the familiar ache returns. Softly rubbing my chest, I gulp down more water. Mick takes my free hand and soothes his thumb over my palm. “What is it, little bird?”

Studying his face, I take a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

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