Chapter 51 Witness X
Witness X
Life Isn’t Fair
The thing I love about Jack is that he doesn’t panic. He’s cool in a crisis. We’re both similar in that way.
“Always be prepared for things to go tits up,” Dad used to say. “Especially when things are going well. That’s the time to be on your guard. Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.” I’m grateful for this rule. Because of it, I was ready to handle things when Anton died.
The air was gluey and warm that night. It always was in the attic apartment. It never seemed to matter what the weather was. The gentle boom of music circulated around the room and vibrated through the floor from the club below. It had become our defining soundtrack.
We never had long together. Our time was precious.
Once a week, that’s all we allowed ourselves, pretending it was just sex.
The second I was in that apartment, our bodies were inseparable.
His hands would be all over me; caressing, grabbing, pulling.
His mouth needed to be on my skin, his tongue in every curve.
“Let me record us,” he said that night.
“No,” I replied firmly.
“You know you can trust me.”
“It’s just…phones can get lost. End up in the wrong hands.”
“It won’t,” he whispered. “I just need to see you when I can’t see you.”
This is where it all went wrong.
In that second, I knew I had changed. I’d been relying on the rules less and less since I met Jack.
I felt different. The old me—toxic, ruthless, cynical—had been replaced by a woman who had started to trust people.
And the weird thing was I liked it. Jack made me feel safe enough to step outside the rules that had imprisoned me for so long. It was exhilarating, terrifying.
It made me feel normal.
I was like a different person when his body was against mine. I’d lose myself, forget my past, and just exist in the euphoric bliss of feeling something real. It was in one of these moments—one stupid fucking moment—that I said yes.
Grabbing his iPhone, he set it up so it was standing against the TV in the corner of the room. With the reverse angle camera on, the entire living room, kitchen, and front door of the apartment were on-screen, the large sofa taking center stage.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing me hard on the lips before walking over to the phone and pressing the big, red circle.
RECORD.
I wasn’t fazed by the camera. Our clothes came off, and we held nothing back.
And then someone was knocking loudly on the door. Three bangs.
We both froze, hoping whoever it was would just go away.
“Jack, let me in,” a very well-to-do male voice shouted. “It’s Anton Smythe. I know you’ve been expecting me.”
“He can’t come in here!” I whispered, the panic rising in my gut. “He can’t see me.”
“Now isn’t a good time,” Jack shouted back, grabbing his T-shirt and pulling it on over his head.
“If you don’t open this door right now,” Smythe shouted in the angriest voice I’d ever heard, “I’ll bloody break it down.”