Chapter 3 #2
“I’m breaking up with you,” Esme says, more strongly this time.
“I’m done. This isn’t healthy for either of us.
This isn’t okay. I—” Her gasp makes me look up as my fingers close around what I’m looking for.
Alan has stepped forward with one hand out to grip her throat; the force of his grip is immediately alarming as Esme chokes for air, mouth open and gaping like a fish.
Her hands come up to grip his wrist, and I move across the room quickly.
I shove my hand into my pocket, feeling the weight of my phone there, and lunge forward to grab him, my eyes on Esme’s face.
“Let her go,” I snap, though my voice remains soft. “You’re hurting her, Alan. You’re—”
I don’t know why I don’t expect him to whirl around, but he hits me in the face with the hand holding his phone, causing my nose to flash hot with pain before going numb from the blow.
I feel something wet and hot trickling from my nostrils, but at least his blow dislodges his grip enough for Esme to scream in surprise.
She screams his name once, then again, and Alan shakes me off rather easily. I end up stumbling back a step, and he goes right back to crowding Es against the cabinet.
“Stop it!” she shrieks, her voice going hoarse again as he cuts off her air. “Alan, please stop. I just want—”
“You want to say you’re sorry,” Alan pants.
I hate that I need a second to get a hold of myself, and my hand slips into my pocket to curl around my phone.
Maybe I could call the cops. I should. They’d drag him out of here and throw him in a cell.
“You want to tell me you weren’t serious.
Come on, Es.” He shakes her like a fucking dog, making my roommate wince as she hits the edge of the counter once more. “Tell me you’re sorry.”
She’s going to do it.
The realization hits me when her mouth opens, lower lip trembling. She’s going to say it just to get him off of her. I know that it’s a quick way to hopefully assuage his anger and get her out of danger. But it won’t help her in the long run, and it might not help her at all.
“I’m—”
“She’s not sorry.” My words are cold and sharp as I grab him, and I yank Alan around with blood dripping from my nose, causing my voice to sound less than intimidating. “Get out, Alan.” I jerk on him again, though he’s stronger and bigger than me, so my grip does very little.
A fact that’s made worse when he snarls out a laugh, his eyes fever bright. He lifts his hand to hit me across the face again, and after I stumble back from the blow, he whirls on Esme, both of his hands gripping her throat.
Then he squeezes.
The action is not gentle. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise as he bears down on her, using his weight to push her back until she’s bent over the counter.
“Why can’t you just listen?” he snarls, spittle flying from his teeth as he watches her face turn pale, then red, as she gasps beneath him. Her fists attempt to beat on his arms and drag at his hair, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.
A coldness settles over me, starting at my head, running to my hands, before it trickles down my spine. But instead of being unnerving, the cold feels like a comfort, whispering in my ears with crooning words I’ve heard before.
My hand goes into my pocket again, but this time, I don’t grab my phone. Instead, my fingers close around the handle of the scissors I used yesterday. This time when I ball my other hand in Alan’s jacket, he jerks around with a curse and snarl on his lips, already prepared to shake me off.
But in this moment, I decide he doesn’t deserve the chance to speak again. He’s used up his chances for the night, and I’m tired of hearing him talk. My hand plunges downward, and the scissors easily sink into his throat, the blades buried just above his collarbone.
A look of shock crosses his face, though pain isn’t part of the equation just yet. I rip the scissors free, my eyes fixed on his, and from his other side I can hear a soft whimper from Esme.
I could stop.
The shock from this is enough to get him off of Esme, judging by how his hands are already loosening from her throat. I could stop, and I’m sure he’d stumble out of here with his tail between his legs.
But the scissors sink into his neck again, just above his sternum. This time he gasps a little wheezing sound, and when I rip them free, blood arcs, and his body gives a small jerk.
I could stop.
Again and again I stab downward, ripping through clothes and skin and muscle until I can uncover what lies beneath. As if I can purge his rot and bad attitude, I keep going.
His knees give out just as blood bubbles to his lips, and I watch him with a slight tilt to my head as his knees thump against the hardwood floor.
Esme’s soft sounds of horror reach my ears, but they don’t draw my attention away from Alan and the way he shudders.
From the way he chokes on his own blood.
His hand reaches up, fingers twisting toward me, and the plea in his eyes is all fear and loathing.
I smile in response, and with the tip of the scissors I coldly push his hand away from me.
“Don’t look at me like that, Alan,” I sigh, barely registering Esme’s terror, or the way she’s clearly starting to panic. “I asked you to leave, and so did she.”
With wide eyes, he falls to his side on the floor with a thump as his breaths come in stuttering gasps. Again he grabs for me, reaching for my shoe, but I simply step out of reach. “No.” The word is careless. Bored. “No, you don’t get that either.”
The coldness doesn’t fade. It spreads more, filling me, as I kneel to watch his blood stain the hardwood and to meet his gaze as his life slowly fades. “Goodbye, Alan.” I smile sweetly. “It wasn’t a pleasure, and I don’t think anyone is going to miss you.”
He gurgles, his ruined throat trying to form words. I swear I see one last flicker of hate in his eyes before he lets out a shaking, rattling breath.
Then, he simply doesn’t draw another.