by Claire Adams
If Archer hadn’t shown up when he did, if he hadn’t been ready to kill Mr. Beetle, my life would be over. Mr. Beetle would have plunged that knife right through my throat, the ultimate payback for not indulging his twisted obsession with me.
“You can’t hurt me.” Mr. Beetle got up off the floor with his knife held high. Blood bloomed from Beetle’s side. He didn’t seem to feel the bullet wound at all. His eyes burned with madness. Maybe he was so crazy he didn’t even register the pain. Maybe he refused to stop before he accomplished what he came here to do. Whatever the case, Mr. Beetle still had plenty of fight left in him.
He bared his teeth in a wordless snarl and ran at Archer. But Archer was ready for him. He sidestepped the reckless attack and kicked Beetle square in the chest. Beetle crumpled to the floor, making horrible wheezing sounds as he tried to breathe again.
Archer flipped him over onto his back. Beetle glared up at him, that dark fire still burning in his eyes. I’d always thought Mr. Beetle was harmless. I had no idea something so sinister lurked beneath his placid surface.
Archer leveled his gun at Mr. Beetle’s face. “I said you were going to die, and I meant it. You deserve it for daring to lay a finger on her.”
“Mean man,” Beetle said. “You’re no good for her. I’m supposed to be with her. Me. Not you.”
Archer reached into his back pocket to pull out a pair of zip ties. Then he grabbed Beetle by the wrist. Beetle started sobbing. His lower lip quivered.
“P-p-please,” the man begged. “I won’t bother Zoe ever again.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ll keep coming back.” Archer bound his wrists first. Then he shoved Beetle onto his side before kneeling down to zip tie his legs, too. “I can’t let that happen.”
Archer had a hard look in his eyes. Merciless. Cold. I realized at that moment Archer meant to kill Mr. Beetle.
“Archer,” I pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
He stopped and turned to look at me. “Zoe, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. There’s only one way to make sure you’re safe.”
Archer kicked Beetle right in the face, so hard that I could practically feel his nose cracking. Archer didn’t stop. He kicked Beetle in the ribs, the stomach, the chest. I closed my eyes to block out the violent sight, but I couldn’t drown out the horrible sounds.
“Please, Archer. Please, stop.”
“I’m doing this for you, Zoe.”
I opened my eyes to see Archer kneeling beside Beetle. He wrapped his hands around the pitiful man’s neck. Beetle tried to push Archer’s hands away, but he was too weak. He couldn’t get leverage with his bound hands. Archer’s hands never wavered.
“Archer, don’t! It’s over. I’m safe.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” he said, not even turning back to look at me. “You’ll never be safe as long as this sick fuck is still breathing.”
Beetle’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and his mouth gaped open as he struggled for air.
“Archer, don’t kill him. Please.”
“He’s crazy.”
“Yes,” I said. “He needs help. Not this.”
“How can you care about this psycho after what he did to you?” Archer asked, his hands still gripping Beetle’s throat.
“Because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But more importantly, I care about you. I care about us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want this hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives. I can’t be with you if you kill him. Don’t throw everything away for someone like him. Just let him go. Let the police handle this.”
Archer’s hands slid from Beetle’s neck. The man fell back on the floor, gasping for breath. Archer stood up and looked down at the man writhing on the floor. “You’re right, Zoe. He’s not worth it.”
He rushed over to me and untied the ropes from my limbs. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
The ropes fell away from me, and I wrapped my arms around Archer. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all going to be okay now.”
Archer kissed me. There was relief, and angst, and also doubt, but his lips were just as sweet as they’d ever been. He wasn’t the same man he was a few seconds ago. It was frightening how he could switch so easily. One second he was a murderer. The next, he was the loving man that I knew. Which one was the real Archer?
We left Beetle tied up on the floor while Archer called the police. When he was on the phone, a revolver crept past the doorframe, moved side to side, then Chloe’s tear-stained face came into view. She locked eyes with me then ran over to give me a hug.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I’m fine. It’ll heal in a few days.”
“And Mr. Beetle?”
I motioned toward the kitchen. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“No.”
“Too bad,” she said. “Archer should have killed him.”
I stayed quiet and listened while Archer spoke to the emergency dispatcher. He told them what happened, but he left out the part about choking Beetle half to death. When the police arrived, they didn’t care. It was obvious to them what had happened.
Two officers held Beetle down while they reached into his pocket to pull his ID out.
The female officer dragged Beetle to his feet. “Clarence Andrews,” she said. “You’re under arrest. Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder. You’re going away for a long time.”
She read him his rights as she walked him out of the apartment. A couple of paramedics came in to check me out. While they did that, more officers came in to take Archer’s statement. He stared at me the entire time the police were talking to him. He seemed sad, like I was still tied up and he never got to me. Part of me wondered if he’d ever leave that moment, or if he’d just be walking through it forever, living his life as if it were a dream.
Despite the blow to the head, I didn’t have a concussion, and I didn’t need stitches. The burn on my neck was superficial. They rubbed some ointment on it, and I was good to go. A detective took my statement after that. I just confirmed everything that Archer said, which was the truth. He had saved my life.
When the police left, Archer asked Chloe to give us a moment. She excused herself to my bedroom, leaving us alone. I was sitting on the couch, staring at the carpet, while Archer paced around in front of me.
“I love you, Zoe. I want you to know that.”
“I do, Archer. I know that.”
He stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at his feet. “And I want to thank you.”
“Thank me? I should be thanking you for saving my life.”
He shrugged. “You saved my life, too. You stopped me from doing something terrible. Something I would have regretted for the rest of my life.”
“You were going to kill him,” I said quietly.
Archer nodded. “I’m not that guy, you know? Please don’t think that’s who I am.”
“You lost control.” I couldn’t even look at him.
“When I saw him put that knife to your throat, I lost it. I wish I hadn’t. I just wanted to protect you.”
“You protected me, but you also scared the shit out of me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Archer, I think I need to be alone right now. I need time to think.”
He hesitated like he wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t sure if he knew what to do. Eventually, he started to walk out, then took one last look at me before he did. We both knew that it was the last time we’d ever see each other.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Archer
I got up my room and collapsed on the bed. The fucking sheets were drenched in vanilla perfume. I threw them onto the floor and grabbed a pillow so I could hold onto it for comfort. When I did, a strand of hair fell off the pillow onto the mattress.
I hop
ped off the bed, grabbed the sheets and the pillows, and threw them onto the floor. Then I laid down. Her scent was still there, permanently embedded in my nostrils. A haunting reminder of what I’d done.
Guilt overwhelmed me. I tried to do something good by protecting Zoe, but I wound up doing something unforgivable. Or trying to, anyway. Mr. Beetle, no, Clarence. I had to remind myself he was a man, not a bug. Clarence was a dangerous psychopath, but in the end, I’d gone just as crazy as he was.
Shooting the man was one thing. He was going to kill Zoe. I was just protecting her. But after, once I’d subdued the man and tied him up, the threat was over. I was no longer trying to protect Zoe. I was going to murder a defenseless man in cold blood.
Clarence couldn’t possibly have fought me off. He was weak and small, and he didn’t know what he was doing. Whatever madness drove his actions wasn’t his fault. No one chooses to be crazy. His mind was broken. It blinded him to reason. He wasn’t in control of his actions. He was subject to a corrupting force. I’d ignored all that in my murderous rage.
Zoe never lost sight of that. She’d always seen past Clarence’s filthy clothes, his revolting smell, and his strange manners. She knew he deserved to be treated like anyone else, with dignity and respect. That’s why she never sent him away all those times he came into the shop.
And even after he’d gone full psycho on her, she didn’t want me to hurt Clarence without cause. She didn’t want him dead. She wanted him to get help. His life mattered to her, the way it should have mattered to me.
But it hadn’t. I was a monster, capable of disregarding somebody’s life because I was angry. Because I was scared. I kept going back to what I was thinking in the truck on the way to Zoe’s. I had every intention of killing Clarence, even before I knew what was happening at Zoe’s apartment. And I would’ve murdered that man if Zoe hadn’t stopped me. No wonder she never wanted to see me again.
She hadn’t actually said that, but I could tell from the look in her eyes that I terrified her now. I couldn’t blame her. I was terrified of whatever dark part of me had taken over at that moment. What kind of man was I? How could I look my sons in the eye knowing what kind of savagery I was capable of? How could I look Zoe in the eye?
I was surprised she didn’t tell the police what I’d done. I wish she would have. I deserved to face the consequences of my actions. I deserved to be punished. Maybe scaring Zoe away was punishment enough. Seeing that fear in her eyes when she looked at me seared my very soul.
I grabbed a fresh blanket from the closet, one that didn’t smell like Zoe. I kept the lights off. I couldn’t face the world. Seeing anything beyond my blanket sanctuary reminded me that I still existed. I was still breathing, and my heart kept pounding away.
Even though I’d stripped away all the bedding to get rid of Zoe’s scent, the mattress still smelled like her. I propped myself up against the wooden headboard. The edge drove into my spine. It felt right to experience a little pain. As much as it hurt, it was nothing compared to frightening Zoe.
Clearly, I didn’t deserve her. The woman was too good for a man like me. A man who lost control like that. A man who had murder in his heart. The smell of her perfume hovered around my head like spirits taunting me, reminding me of what we once had. And reminding me that all I had left of her now was the ghost of a memory. Eventually, her scent would fade from my world like she had, leaving me alone again. Leaving me empty.
I wished I could rewind the clock and change what had happened today. Just when I’d gotten Zoe back, I lost her again. By trying to protect her, I’d hurt her worse than I ever could have imagined. When I thought I was being strong, I was actually at my weakest. I promised myself, then and there, I’d never lose control like that again.
I had to be a better man. For my sons. And if I ever wanted to be good enough for a woman like Zoe. It was a hard lesson to learn, and it had come at too high a cost. I’d be paying the price for the rest of my life.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zoe
I woke up dreading my day. There were dishes to be done and muffins to bake. The apartment was a mess, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the remnants of Mr. Beetle’s attack. Maybe if I ignored it, it would just go away. I walked into the living room, naked and still bloody.
My eyes snapped shut. I saw Archer choking Mr. Beetle while the man struggled to get free. His head was going limp, and his eyes were rolling up into the back of his head. The worst part was the unnatural purple color of his skin.
It was impossible to forget what Archer had done. I was going to have to clean this up if I wanted a second’s peace, but I could face it. I couldn’t face the woman looking back at me in the mirror when I walked up to my vanity either. It reminded me of a movie I once saw where a high school girl got pig blood thrown over her head.
I had scratches all over my wrists and ankles. They were raw, and when I stepped into the shower, the water tore at the skin. I hissed and pulled my hand back. How could I stop thinking about what happened when everything kept reminding me of it? The mess in the living room and kitchen. The screaming pain of my ankles and wrists. The throbbing ache in my head. I just wished it would all go away.
I felt my feet slip under me, and I found myself kneeling in the shower, sobbing. The real world came rushing back, too fast, and I couldn’t handle it. I reached up and turned the water on as hot as I could. I screamed at the feeling of it. My whole body shook from the outcry of pain pouring out of me. Something had been boiling up inside me, and it erupted from me now.
But it didn’t help. The heat just kept coming, scorching my skin and burning my cuts. I wouldn’t turn the heat down. Not yet. I needed the shock to bring myself out of this. I should’ve stayed away.
I laid there on the shower floor until the water heater gave out, and the cold came rushing down. I grunted, braced myself to get up, and turned the water off. The silence was unbearable. My skin was bright red, and my wrists were peeling. This was never going to end. How could I possibly go back to my normal life after everything I’d seen?
I threw on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, still stained with blueberry syrup, and walked into the living room. There was a hole above the TV where Archer’s bullet had made impact. There was no way that the office manager would allow that. I was probably going to get a twenty-four-hour eviction notice by the end of the day.
Nothing was good or simple. Every task, from pulling on my shoes to opening the car door, was an obligation and another reminder of what had happened. My only hope was to get to work. Maybe baking would get my mind off things.
Downtown was congested. They were having their monthly farmer’s market. It was set up in the square where Archer and I had come to dance during the music festival. I could still see the tattered white remains of the paper lanterns. I wanted to blow the place up. I’d have to pass it every time I drove into work.
Chloe was outside, openly smoking in back when I pulled up. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to tell her about Archer, but I could tell by the way she looked at me when she came inside that she wanted to say something. I stormed out into the lobby and started making a pot of coffee while I clocked in on the register.
She stayed in the kitchen until the morning rush was over and only came out when my back was turned so she could sneak a scone. I pretended that I didn’t see her, but I did. I didn’t need a reminder. There was nothing I could do about this. Archer simply wasn’t the right man for me.
I drank cup after cup of coffee until my hands were shaking and I had to sit down in the office. The clutter was too busy. The stained pavement and the stacks of paper made me feel like I had entered another dimension, where everything was just a little bit worse than it normally was.
I closed my eyes. Business would slow down, the bakery would close, and I’d lose my apartment. Everything that could go wrong would go wrong until I was living in a ditch like Mr. Beetle.
Chloe came in. “Hey.”
&nb
sp; I sighed and my head fell forward. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of her, but it wasn’t something that I could control.
She rested her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” I shot up out of the chair. “I—Chloe…”
“What?”
I sat back down. “He’s gone,” I wailed.
“Oh, no.”
“I thought you hated him?”
“I mean, yeah, I did.”
“Shouldn’t you be happy?” I asked.
“No, I was wrong about him.”
“No, you weren’t,” I cried. “You didn’t see what he did. He’s not like you and me. There’s something wrong with him.”
“Why? Because he was ready to kill a man who tied you up and tried to torture you with a red-hot knife? Are you crazy? I was ready to kill him.”
“You say that, but you don’t really mean it. That’s the difference. Archer was going to do it. I had to beg him to stop.”
“Put yourself in his shoes. The woman he loves was about to die. You can’t tell me you don’t care about him enough to kill for him. I’ve seen the way you were when you two were together.”
I felt like she’d just slapped me in the face. I’d been trying to push my feelings down the entire morning. I told myself that he didn’t matter, but he did, and Chloe wasn’t going to let me forget it. I needed to get out of there. I stood up to walk past her, but she blocked my path. “Sit down.” She pointed at the chair.
I looked past her into the lobby. I didn’t even have the energy to walk out there, so I relented. “I can’t hear this.”
“How many bullshit reasons are you going to come up with to fuck this up?”
“Stop!”
“No, that man risked everything to save you. If it weren’t for him, you’d be dead or disfigured or who knows what, and you’re treating him like he’s a mass murderer.” She laughed bitterly. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
