by Frances June
"So, you do think it's a good idea?" She lightly slapped my leg and a small smile played on her beautiful lips.
"I didn't say that." I placed my bandaged hand in hers and she ever so gently wrapped her fingers around it. I kept the pain out of my face as best I could despite the fact that any touch was agony.
"What if it gets too dangerous?"
We rounded the block to our apartment and the cab driver pulled up. Looking over my shoulder I saw the police car stop a little further back. If I was following someone I'd sure as hell have spotted them by now, it was a sham. I wondered whether they were doing it on purpose but it was a fucked-up tactic if that was the case.
"Then I'll scrape all the cash I can get together and we'll high-tail it to Bora-Bora or some other crazy fucking place in the world and we'll live out the rest of our lives alone and happy, how about that?" She liked the idea a lot, she smiled and it lit up the back of the dingy vehicle like a summer’s day.
Like my brothers, Morgan didn't know about my secret bank account which contained millions of dollars. A parting gift from Monroe. It was one I'd never asked for and one I tried not to use unless times really got bad. It could have been illegal money. Who am I kidding, it was most definitely illegal money.
Even though he was a man of the cloth Monroe wasn’t what you’d call trustworthy. The older we got the worse he got for lying, violence, and everything else that came with it. It was obvious the money was as dirty as it came, maybe that's why he was back. If it was him. There were so many unanswered questions my head was like a pinball machine except the pinball was a grenade and someone had pulled the pin.
"Keep the change." Morgan handed a cool $40 to the driver before he drove away.
"Woah! You forget we have a hospital bill to pay for?" We were fine but I couldn’t let her know that. Little secrets were OK, that's what I had to tell myself.
"I've got it covered, I got more appointments than a gyno after spring break, we'll be OK on one salary for a while, right?" She held the door open and we walked up to the apartment. I'd never missed my own bed so much in my whole life.
"Hey, even if I have to glue rags to my hands and wipe tables all day I'm going to work tomorrow." I wasn't about to go stir crazy now I'd been freed from the confines of observations.
Morgan frowned at me but didn't say anything else about it. She was no doubt biding her time, waiting to show me how much of a useless lump I was going to be. I didn't give a fuck. Being kept in a house was too much like being in prison. I was a free -ange kind of guy and those holier than thou mother fuckers weren't going to keep me inside.
"Can we just forget everything right now and get into be-" I stopped talking at the same time I stopped walking.
It was as though some primal instinct had kicked in. If I were a dog my hackles would have been raised.
"What is it?" Morgan tensed at my being tense, stepping behind me for protection. I won't lie, the feeling it gave me was empowering. It was a surge of energy that felt like I'd stuck a fork in a power outlet; I was willing to die to protect her.
"Stay back, ok?" I prayed she would do what I asked as I made my way towards our apartment door.
It was when the elevator doors had opened that I sensed a change in the air. It was like I was a Jedi sensing a change in the force and it was fucking strong in the hallway. Like when you could tell there was someone behind you, I could tell there was someone waiting for us in our apartment.
The door was ajar and I kicked it open with my toe, realising probably too late that Morgan would probably have more luck fighting off an intruder. My stupid bandaged hands were no use so I pulled them towards my chest and mentally prepared to body barge whoever was waiting for me on the other side.
The feeling of invasion didn't disappear when I stepped over the threshold, it intensified with each carefully, quietly placed footstep as I crept into my own home.
Remembering my techniques to fight the internal rage was difficult in most situations but this was a real test. If those masked maniacs wanted to jump me on the street, fine. Coming into my home was another thing altogether but I did my breathing and remained as calm as I could. It was a lie to myself. It might have been a way to keep the aggression down but it was also fighting mentality. A calm mind would always win in a fight against one filled with unkempt rage. I had to pretend to think I was doing it for all the right reasons but whilst I controlled my breathing the truth about what I was prepared to do was crystal clear.
A few more steps into the hallway and I would be in the living room. I knew, within a second, that there was someone there.
The best attack is a surprise attack so I pretty much threw myself in, expecting everything except what I was met with.
"Holy fuck! Chastity?"
I ran to the heap on the floor. There were books and mail from the side table on the floor, all smeared with blood. Next to the mess was Chastity, black and blue and beaten so badly I didn't know if she was conscious or comatose or potentially dead.
"Saul! What's wrong?" Morgan ran into the room holding a can of pepper spray like it might jump up and bite her. She was poised and ready to go on the attack but she stopped in her tracks at the sight of me crouching over Chastity, my useless hands hovering awkwardly over her limp body. "What the fuck is this?"
-END OF PART ONE-
