Shallow River

And that’s why I’ll never walk through this house barefoot.

Or touch that fucking table.

Good thing I came prepared. I pull a rubber glove out of my pocket, stretch it on and pick up the bills. I drop them in a plastic Ziploc baggie.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Quit acting like this isn’t where you come from, you pretentious bitch,” she spits. Her eyes are dilated, and she can’t stop clenching her jaw. I’m not even insulted. How can I be when she’s where she is, and I’m where I am?

Her words haven’t hurt me in a very long time.

“How I haven’t contracted an STD is beyond me, and I’m not about to test that luck.”

I don’t bother counting the bills. They’ll all be there. They always are when I make my threats. She goes off to find a way out, no one will take her, and she comes scurrying back to the house with a pocket full of dirty money.

The front door thumps loudly against the wall. Someone just walked in like they own the house.

And there’s only one person who would dare.

Billy.

Barbie and I both freeze in place, and for a brief moment, we share a connection of mutual terror. Barbie visibly gulps, and I try my best to relax my shoulders.

If Billy decides he wants more from me, I won’t be able to hide his marks. Ryan will never forgive me. He’ll leave me in a heartbeat if he saw another man’s bruises on my body. And he’ll probably create more if he finds out another man has been inside my body.

Shit.

My bones rattle and a cold sweat bloom across the back of my neck when Billy enters the kitchen. Barbie turns to greet him, a fake smile plastered on her decrepit face.

He’s impeccably dressed, as usual. Slick graying blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes and a strong jaw. He used to be handsome in his younger years. Back then, he was a young gang member, born and raised in the slums, dressed like Barbie, but had women falling at his feet. Until he had a run-in with a thug, and they cut his face up.

Those scars crisscrossing his nose, eyes and mouth make him look utterly terrifying. And the dark, blank look in his eyes certainly doesn’t help matters. Billy’s the type of man you see on the streets and instantly turn to walk the opposite direction. He’s incredibly intimidating, with a permanent psychotic gleam in his eyes that warn any passerby that he’d wrap his massive hands around your skull and crush it until it pops. And enjoy it too.

Now he runs a drug empire and is filthy rich. The cash in his wallet drips with blood and tears from all the people he killed to obtain it.

“Well, hey, suga,” Barbie sings—rather loudly might I add. Her nervous energy is palpable. Any minute now, she’s going to have a bad trip and there’s not one cell in my body that feels bad for her. “I didn’t know you were stoppin’ by today.”

“Since when am I required to announce my arrival?” he inquires, his voice devoid of emotion. I’ve seen Billy in all kinds of different states of emotion, but I’ve known him my entire life, been around him more than my nightmares are capable of keeping up with. It takes a lot to make him stray from his calm and eerily quiet state.

I swallow thickly and meet his frightening eyes. The dark pools found mine from the moment he stepped in the kitchen. They haven’t strayed once.

She laughs, another nervous sound. “You’re right.”

Silence. Filled with his expectations and dark promises.

“Hey, Billy,” I greet finally, my own voice softer than I’d like. It shames me that he still has this effect on me. I’d love nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself and let him know he doesn’t scare me. But my soul is also very attached to its vessel.

He slowly walks over to me, his polished heels clicking on the filthy floor. The contrast between the two almost doesn’t compute in my brain. The image looks tremendously off. Such nice shoes shouldn’t be walking on a floor so disgusting.

I’m focusing on his shoes so I don’t have to think about why he’s walking towards me. I’m thinking about how there’s guck caked in the cracks of the tiles, instead of how he’s stopped in front of me and waiting for me to lift my eyes.

I’m thinking about how I’m about to lose my relationship tonight, and maybe even my life.

He lifts his hands towards me and it takes everything in me not to flinch away. Slowly, his finger catches my chin, causing shivers to run down my spine. Barbie shifts in my peripheral, nervous. That makes me nervous.

My chin rises. Our eyes meet. Anger’s infused in his eyes. My breath escapes me.

“You’re a ghost,” he says softly.

My mouth dries, and I fight to swallow.