“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like?” His tone is casual and aloof, as if I should already know we’re sharing a room.
“Um…what?” He’s got to be joking.
He kicks off his boots and socks but leaves his jeans on. Running his hand through his hair, he flicks the light switch off. The moon shines into the room so brightly, I can see him perfectly as he crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips. The scent of leather and cologne washes over me. Adrenaline spikes my system, and out of fear, my foot lifts, and I shove it into his shoulder, stopping him from coming any closer.
He grabs my ankle with a strong grip.
“What the fuck?” With one quick move, he tugs me halfway down the bed, hovering over me, and latches onto my wrists, holding them above my head. I’m speechless.
“Don’t make this difficult.” He breathes heavily, his nose almost touching my face.
“You cannot sleep in the bed. It’s not right. I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t know me,” he seethes, his blue eyes searing into me.
“Exactly!”
Staring at one another something strange passes between us that has him stiffen and me wiggle beneath him. It feels electric and butterflies swarm in my stomach. It’s the kind of feeling you get when someone jumps out of nowhere and scares you, also similar to when you bump into a handsome man and get bashful. Weird how two completely different situations cause the same effect on the body. Letting go of my wrists, he rolls over onto his back, and I lay there staring at the ceiling, my hands still above my head. My gut tells me not to trust this guy, but he hasn’t done anything to me, and I definitely deserve retaliation. Still, I have two weeks under this monster’s care. He could snap at any minute, then I’ll be like the girl he murdered and got away with. How did he get away with it? Cops in his pocket? Is he really innocent? My mind races with questions—ones I want answered if he’s going to be sleeping next to me at night.
“How did you get away with killing your girlfriend?” My voice cracks as I try to stop myself from finishing the question.
He inhales as if he’s annoyed, and I turn my head to look at him.
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Why, because you’re guilty?”
“No, because I’ve talked to people who actually have a fucking degree in cracking crazy people and even they can’t figure me out, so what the fuck is telling you going to do?”
“I dunno. Maybe clear your conscious?”
He laughs, making me feel stupid.
“I’ll need a fucking exorcism for that. There is no saving me, baby.”
“You know what? I think they let you out of the nut house a little too soon,” I rebut. The fact that I’m bantering with a murderer possibly makes me crazier.
“Probably,” he scoffs with humor.
The room goes quiet, and I feel him turn his head to look me. Flicking my gaze to his, I wait for what he’s going to say or do. I bite my lip, silently praying I didn’t push too far. I can’t control my mouth. I say and ask what’s on my mind, which might be why Richard left me. I was too much for him to handle. His once hostile eyes lighten, showing clear blue. I can’t help but get lost in the flakes of his irises. They’re so beautiful and serene.
“I don’t remember that night. Nothing revolving around my girlfriend anyway. But I feel like I killed her. I just don’t know why I did it,” he confesses, something sincere and dark pulling his face into a scowl. “I go into Highland Heights Mental Facility once a week to make sure I’m not about to snap, but I’m not going back.” He shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling.
I nod, not sure what to say. He seems broken, worse than I am. He took a life from someone he cared about and doesn’t even remember how or why. He sounds sorry, though, and that makes me feel a little better about being locked in here with him. But I saw the articles. This girl was just one of many sins he’s committed.
“The guy you were with, you said he ran off on you, leaving you with debt from the deal you two made with the Titans?” he asks.
Anger brews in the pit of my stomach. “What about him?”
“Did you love him?”
My chest rises on a large inhale. I’ve been through a lot, felt different emotions and thought I knew what love was—until it walked away and I realized I didn’t know shit about feeling anything.
“I thought I did, but my hate for him is much stronger than my feelings ever were.”
“I don’t think that was love then.”