He Hates Me (Hate & Love Duet 1)

A dick that will be cut off, by the way.

I stand in the cold, only wearing my suit and no coat. My fingers have turned numb from all the time I’ve spent here, but I don’t focus on that.

Cold is merely discomfort that will eventually go away. Being cold, hungry, or in pain are only phases. I’ve been through worse and I’m still here.

After some time, both of them exit the restaurant. Petal’s steps are slow, probably because she’s drunk as fuck and should’ve stopped at the first glass.

Dr. Asshole reaches a hand to steady her when she trips. She giggles, then hides the sound with the back of her hand.

She fucking giggles. I don’t hear her, but I see it loud and clear.

The doctor hears her though. Not only he wined and dined her, but he also hears her giggling.

Fucking giggling.

They stop in front of a car. I move in the other cars’ blindspots, making sure I give my side profile and back to the restaurant’s two blinking cameras.

I stand opposite them behind the corner. This close, I have no need for the binoculars. It’s dark in the parking lot, but it’s not too dark so I can’t see. There’s a faint light in the distance that gives a perfect view of my little Petal and her cheater doctor.

Petal has her back against a car as Dr. Asshole closes in on her, almost flattening his body against hers.

I notice it before I see it.

She’s uncomfortable. Her unfocused eyes keep straying sideways as if finally realizing she shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine —or the fucking third one. Her small delicate hand plants on the doctor’s shoulder and she subtly pushes him away.

He doesn’t move. If anything, he goes in for a kiss like a hormonal teenager. I’m about to go in there and remove him, when she moves her head last second and his lips land on her cheek.

Petal goes back to fighting him off, saying something about having to go home.

To her cats, no doubt. She’d hold them and tell them she made a fucking mistake coming here today.

That’s when the doctor makes his mistake. He lifts his hand and backhands her, harshly, violently. Petal remains frozen, but moisture pools in her eyes. Slowly, too slowly, she raises a hand and cradles her cheek as if she can’t believe what just happened.

I believe it, though.

My body believes it, too. Earlier, I barely had an itch to reach for my knife, but now it’s become a necessity as important as air.

He’s just made his first strike.

My little Petal is still focused on the violence of his slap when his fat hand reaches under her black dress. She opens her mouth, probably to scream. He slaps her again and continues with his hand between her legs.

Second and final strike.

Petal’s useless struggles get her nowhere. If anything, she’s only making him get closer and flattening his body against hers.

I click the control to my car and the beeping sound interrupts his ministrations. My little Petal, although a bit drunk, pushes the doctor away enough to run towards her car.

He yells after her like a madman with no reprieve. Someone needs some anger management classes. But he’s too late. Petal’s eyes are wide, face pale, but she has floored the gas and she’s out of the parking lot.

The doctor curses, stomping like a child who didn’t get his toy.

I don’t think twice before creeping up to him, making sure to leave the cameras behind me.

He doesn’t feel me until I’m standing right at his back. He startles like a pig, dropping his keys.

“What the fuck?” He stares up at me. “What do you want?”

“Your blood.”

He doesn’t get a warning. His stupified expression is the only thing that remains as I swiftly jam my knife into his throat.

I twist it a few times for good measure until his eyes stare nowhere.

I only remove my blade when he drops on the ground like a useless sack.

His blood. Red and vibrant, trickles onto the asphalt.

It’s the only type of payment I take.

Ah fuck.

I just killed someone without a reason —well, no reason that relates to Costa. I can’t ask his cleaning boys to take care of this.

Doesn’t matter though. I wipe the knife on his clothes then sheathe it. Retrieving my gloves, I pull them on then search for his wallet. I take the few bills inside it then throw it on his corpse.

Cause of death: a fatal wound to the jugular artery.

Motive: robbery went wrong.

Case closed.

Making sure I stay in the cameras’ blind spots, I head back to my car and drive to the apartment — Petal’s, not mine.

Her lights are out, and I sneak in through the fire escape, which is the easiest shit I’ve done in my life. As I said, no security whatsoever in this building.