More ink. I needed that. I sat back down. Lauren started on my heart. Christina was added. We took another break. I needed to check in with Animal, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I sat again. The dandelion puff was placed next to my Rebecca. I had Lauren add puffs all around my chest. She applied the cream and bandages to keep the tats protected. Normally, the shop would take pictures of their work. Never mine, though—I left without a goodbye or thanks. Lauren would bill me later, and her tip would be insane.
Someone had propped up my bike. My procrastination had hit its limit. The hours I’d invested at the tattoo parlor had kept me from returning to Becca’s and forcing her to understand that she was safe from me. And safer with me in her life.
I saw her flinch at my touch over and over and over. I got on my bike. I’d had her and lost her. Despite the fact she was incredibly understanding and willing to make excuses for me, I’d crossed a line. I’d taken things too far. The gravel kicked out from my tires as I tore out of the parking lot.
When I was finally up to speed, I started screaming, because no one could hear me. I screamed and screamed. I screamed my soul right out of my body. Without her, what was the point of anything?
~Becca~
I turned off my alarm and didn’t reset it. Then I went back to my room.
I’d spent the afternoon dying from a broken heart. It was time to get up, now. I was on the floor and honestly had cried myself out of tears. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d fallen for him until I’d learned it was all a lie—wait, that wasn’t true. What had happened with Nix was just shaded differently. Instead of a whirlwind, it was an illusion.
I was going to delete the app, Grabby Tabbies. When it occurred to me that every single one of my plush prizes had been a direct result of being watched, I was enraged. I opened my living room window.
I took my time walking armfuls of the stuffed animals across my apartment and out the window. Seeing the familiar faces bouncing off the pavement below made me start crying again.
When my guest bedroom was empty, I closed the window and let the blinds cover the glass.
Now, there was a dark swirling inside me. I was devastatingly disappointed that Nix wasn’t what I thought. Nix wasn’t a white knight. Animal wasn’t a good friend. What did I expect? I knew these men for less than a week?
Maybe appearance was everything after all. Mom was older than I was; she had to be wiser. Man, she would lay into me if I told her this story. It was incredibly dangerous—all the things I had done.
Holy crap, we’d had unprotected sex. I cried again because maybe I was a traitor for regretting the things Nix and I shared.
My stalker and I shared.
He was a sick man and I was his fixation. He knew where I lived. He knew my phone’s passcode.
Sweet Jesus.
He knew the access code for my alarm system. I’d compromised myself in the name of reckless passion in so many different ways.
And I wanted him back. I wanted it all gone, these new foreign feelings. My body had welcomed him. My heart had enveloped him. I felt every judgmental stare then—the ones I would’ve gotten from others for dating a man who was covered in a skeleton. I fed my hopes through the shredder those stares would have provided.
My phone was next to me and Henry was trying to FaceTime me. I used the quick reply to offer a cheery “Call you back later!”
I couldn’t explain it now.
My eyes felt dried up, and my throat was raw. I grabbed at a few tissues and blew my nose. I needed to shower. I was lightheaded. After bracing myself on the walls, I made it to my shower.
Cleaning was tiring because my limbs felt like lead. I washed him off of me. Out of me. Rational thought should kick in. Was I too harsh? Of course not—it was beyond explanation. How many other things was Nix going to reveal that would be out of bounds? I dried off and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I needed food in the house. I didn’t bother with makeup and tied my wet hair into a ponytail.
The wound in my chest was invisible, but it was gaping. I’d been positive somewhere inside that Nix was my soul mate. The stupid term tossed around by teenagers. But secretly, I’d always hoped. And then to find out he was the little kid I’d been praying for all these years? Kismet.
I picked my phone up. It had thirteen percent battery left. Enough. I was just going to the local drugstore to get a few things. Be sensible. Have something in the house. I mean, I had work tomorrow.
Work kicked me in the heart again. The thought of the barstool that had had Nix on it. The thought that maybe he’d show up and I’d have to face him again. Tell him to leave me alone again. How unbalanced was he? How unbalanced was I now that we were over?
One weekend. Really, that’s what we had. I was deranged. Determined that I deserved a happily ever after. That the lust I felt for him and the empathy for his past was love.
I looked at the hole in the wall. Ironically, it was like a misshapen heart speckled with blood. The most perfect gravestone to what we shared.
The knock on my door made me slowly pivot. I wanted to ignore it, but it was persistent.
The long walk to the peephole in the frosted glass made my brains scramble to all sorts of conclusions. I was startled by the knock just as I put my eye to the lens. Putting my hand to my chest, I mustered the courage to look again.
Nix.
Him.
Dark jeans, hoodie pulled low. His stature was unmistakable. I looked at my phone. I had Officer Quinn’s contact info. I could call him. I was torn. Time was what I needed. Getting pulled back into his tide would be the definition of insanity. I had to acknowledge that there was a wild connection. That I felt his presence all over my body.
The impulsive part of me unlocked the door. I should’ve never trusted myself.
I opened the door and was rewarded with a blow to the center of my chest. It took the air from my lungs and my feet out from under me. My head smacked the floor and gave my eyesight a grid-like haze.
The man leering over me, the man who kicked my door shut looked just like Nix. But older. Harder. And with no tattoos.
My eyes rolled up into my head.
34
DONE
Fenix
When I got home, I checked on my girls. I touched each name on my chest as soon as I knew they were safe. Ember had texted that she was in trouble for being out with Jet and Finn and that Aunt Dorothy was taking her to a family cabin to think about what she’d done. That worked, for now. I saved Becca for last. I knew she wouldn’t be on her app now. All I could check was her GPS and the security cameras in her building. They still sucked.
I should’ve never listened to Animal. If I hadn’t gone to the Off-Season Day of the Dead parties at Meme’s, my camera on Becca would be working. I slumped in my chair. Having my access to her taken away felt like quitting heroine cold turkey. I guessed. I’d never done heroine, but I saw the effects.
Maybe this was worse. Before I met her, I could imagine a life with her. After? Well, I’d fucked it all up. In my basement I looked at all the claw games I carefully maintained for her. The boxes with her name all over them. So many boxes because each one was a promise of a connection with her in the future.
I pulled at my hair. It was killing me. After double clicking her folder on my computer, I scrolled through her pictures. I collected them. Screenshots. Social media posts. Newspaper clippings from achievements when she was in high school.
The little kid in me roared. He wanted me to know he was right. I could trust no one. Everyone wanted to hurt us. This was what I got for allowing someone into the shell. The armor. Stay in the dark. Stay under the bed.
If the pictures in front of me were on actual photo paper, I would’ve worn holes in them. I flipped through them so often.
There was a fight I wanted to have with the little kid in my head, but I knew he’d win. He was right. She’d flinched. She was scared. Of me.
My legacy. My birthright. I stood, restless
now. I needed something. Pain. Something to destroy. I grabbed a bat from the closet. So many weapons tucked around my home because in the end I was a coward. I could save a million little girls, but I was a selfish coward that didn’t stop my father from killing my mother because I knew I was next.
I let the pain tear through me like a tornado. I took the bat to the claw machines. To the boxes. The electronics were satisfyingly hard to break, but I was dedicated. One after another I came for them.
Standing in the wreckage, I saw her face on the computer. It should be next. I should decimate the shrine I had for her there. I felt the weight of the bat as I stepped over the shards of the claw machines.
I held the bat above my head. My nostrils flared. I squeezed hard on the grip.
But I couldn’t do it. Not even to a picture of her. I dropped the bat and touched the screen. “I’m so, so sorry, Becca. God, let me fix it. I need to fix it.”
I had to move my hand to see the pop-up that flashed with the notification.
Application engaged.
I watched in disbelief as the app allowed access. The microphone and camera were still enabled.
My heart soared. And in the same moment, it plummeted.
The camera was in focus. I struggled to make out what I was seeing, what I was hearing. I fumbled with the keyboard and turned up the volume. First her thumb, then a tilt. I quickly panned the room and saw hands wrapped around her neck.
I backed up the footage from the camera and slowed it down. My father. My father was in her apartment.
I took off running. I kick-started my bike and drove it out of the garage like a maniac.
All the self-loathing. All of the hatred flew off of me like dandelion puffs in a hurricane.
Becca.
My father was killing my Becca.
~Becca~
I knew where the app was on my phone. So many hours. It’d always be listed on my first screen. I knew the touch ID had slid the phone to an unlock button, and then I was pretty sure I had the app loading. I flicked the silence button with the nail on my index finger. All the while, this man was sitting on my hips. This man who looked so much like Nix in his mannerisms that it was disorientating.
“You little bitch. You remember me? You told me off a long, long time ago.”
He had his hands around my neck now, so I didn’t talk. All I could do was pray that the stalker in Nix was still stalking me. His father swatted my phone away from my hand. It was out of reach now.
I put my hands to his, trying to loosen his fingers that felt like ten vises with their own gravitational pull.
This man was spitting on me, which made me angrier than his hands starting to cut off my windpipe.
Think.
Get out of this hold. He’s got your neck, but what about your legs?
I kicked them out. He adjusted himself so his legs were pinning mine down. My hands. I would have to give up the struggle with my neck and go for his eye. I reached up. His long arms created enough distance that I couldn’t make contact.
My attempts to get away infuriated him. He took one hand and backhanded my cheek. My tooth slid into the flesh there and I could taste blood.
“You think you can get one over on me? This is karma, Rebecca Dixie Stiles. I’m your fucking fate.” More spittle. Everything I had was focused on my neck. It hurt so much. I could feel him start to crush things.
I flailed and scratched. The scratching was a revelation. I started hard and deep in his forearms with wild abandon.
I watched him snap. He pulled back for a punch, and I used the movement to lurch forward and poke him as hard as I could in the eye.
Out. I just needed to get out. Away from the pain in my throat. He was still sitting on my hips, and as I tried to flip and pull myself away, he punched my chest.
This wasn’t a game. This man was trying to kill me. Was going to kill me. When I realized I was going to be trapped, I went primal. I had to make sure he didn’t get control again. He was taller than me. As tall as Nix. Silent prayer that Nix was hearing this, seeing some of this.
“This is what you get. ’Cause of you, I had to leave town. You were the beginning of the end.” He pointed at me, one eye swollen shut, and sneered at me. In that instant I saw the fundamental difference between this man, who had to be Nix’s father, and Nix. They were polar opposites.
This man got joy from my panic. My fight. He was the same devil I met years ago.
“You are a fucking asshole.” I pooled spit on my tongue and blew it at him. It landed under his chin.
Nix’s father was done playing. He was going to figure out how to kill me now. Mom. Mom and her cancer diagnosis. She needed me.
I threw as many slaps and punches as I could, but he was made of stone and anger.
The door flew open, and in a flurry of movement, Nix’s father was off my body.
Nix spared me a glance as I rolled away from the spot on the floor that I was pretty sure I’d peed my jeans.
I crawled away and took deep breaths.
I didn’t hear any punches, and instead of Nix and his father fighting, I heard silence.
I turned slowly, afraid of what I would see. Nix’s father had a gun pointed in my direction.
“You in love, son?” The deep voice that man had used sixteen years earlier was the same. Vicious. Dominant.
“Don’t call me son. You’ve never earned the right.” Nix took a step to the side.
“Move again and I’ll hit her in the stomach so she don’t die right away.” The father tilted his head toward the door.
“How about you have a seat? Right there on that couch, boy. What the fuck have you done to yourself? Jesus Christ.” Nix’s father acted like he held people at gunpoint all the time.
Nix and I made eye contact. I watched him look at my neck and then back to my face. I had no words.
The gun was taking away all the air in the room, and I wasn’t sure how.
“Mom still buried behind the house?” Nix folded his arms in front of him like it was a day in the park. My knees were actually hitting each other.
“Your mother? What the hell you say? You ain’t never figured any damn thing out. I know you had me followed. Watching me. Thinking you were better than me. But you never listened then, and you don’t listen now. Your mother wasn’t in the ground behind the house for more than twelve hours. I moved her. That bitch had it coming, and she sure as shit wasn’t putting me in prison with her dead damn body.” The father kept the gun and his eyes on me while he talked callously about Nix’s mother.
Nix was waiting his father out. I glanced around my apartment for a weapon. The lamp on the end table was the best I could reach, and I’d have to take a few steps.
“How about you put the gun on me, Dad?” Nix waved as if he could control the gun with his brain.
“I’m calling the fucking shots, Fenix. This is the homecoming I get? You’ve put that shit all over your body, like a goddamn freak. You were always good for nothing,” his father blustered.
The words bounced off Nix like they didn’t mean anything. Like he’d heard them a million times.
“You mad that I found your little girlfriend so damn quick? I’m always a step ahead of you. Your old man found her right quick. You think you’re smarter than me?” His father had alarmingly steady aim despite the filth he spewed.
“That’s why you were a messenger for Bat Feybi? You came to my door like a goddamn nobody!” Nix tilted his head and made his eyes wide.
I sidestepped closer to the lamp. I needed to do something.
“Don’t you fucking move, you little slut.”
I stopped.
“Look at me. Don’t you ever look at her, you worthless bastard. All you’ve ever done is beat on people that couldn’t fight back.” Nix put his arms on either side and curled his hands into fists.
He turned a little and I could see the gun he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
The gunshot was so loud I c
ouldn’t process what had happened. My brain was looking at Nix’s gun, but the other gun in the apartment went off.
Nix’s white Henley shirt bloomed with blood like a rose on a tuxedo. Watching the blow register and seeing him stagger took my common sense away. I rushed to his side as he crumpled to his knees. His father was laughing.
The laughter, combined with the pain on Nix’s face, made my decisions for me. I reached for Nix’s gun and made sure the safety was off as I steadied him.
His father was busy laughing at his son’s chest wound so he didn’t anticipate the woman in the room aiming a gun at him.
I barely had my feet in the right position when I squeezed the trigger like Animal had taught me. I hit Nix’s father in the throat, and I didn’t stop. I advanced on him while he tried to point his gun in return. I moved the barrel a bit and squeezed again. His shoulder was slammed backwards, and he fell to the floor on his knees, mimicking Nix’s stance behind me. The hand that was holding the gun lost its grip. The man was now unarmed as the gun clattered on my hardwood floor.
I put the gun to my side. Nix’s father was dying. My adrenaline was seething through my veins. I slapped him as he tried to take gasping breaths.
Animal ran through the door, gun drawn. He had it holstered quickly and found his way to my side. “It’s okay, Becca. You did great. Can I have this?” Animal took the gun from my hand.
I spun as soon as my hand was empty to find Nix still on his knees but swaying. I ran up to him and went to my knees, trying to apply pressure to his shoulder. There was so much blood, too much blood.
Animal made me hold Nix’s father’s gun briefly, but I didn’t care. I then helped Nix lay on his side.
My neighbors were crowding my open front door.
“You okay?” His voice was quiet.
I tried to respond but found I couldn’t make a noise. I wanted to tell Nix I was sorry I had kicked him out. That him bursting through the door was important.
Animal nudged me to the side and put one of my bath towels against Nix’s chest. He was applying more pressure than I was. I watched as Nix winced. I heard sirens in the distance.
Mercy Page 27
