Chapter 4 #3
Gatez didn’t speak; he just stared. And every second of that silence stretched and twisted like a noose tightening around my chest. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, loud and uneven, drowning out everything but the sickening weight of not knowing what he’d decide.
I felt like I was vibrating under my skin, like if I stayed still any longer, I’d break apart right there on the stairs.
I didn’t know if I’d convinced him or even if there was a way to convince someone like him. But I knew one thing for sure—if Gatez didn’t believe me right then, I probably wouldn’t get a second chance to make him.
“You sure you’re not going to the police?” he questioned at last. “A press? Facebook?”
The mention of Facebook almost made it worse. It was like he knew exactly how people worked—how fast a secret could travel in the wrong hands.
I shook my head fast, frantic. “No-No!”
“You sure?” he pressed, a little firmer now. “Do I need to take your phone? Your car? Your laptop?”
My breath caught. “Nnn-No! None of that! I—I swear, I promise!” I cried, the words crashing out of me like a dam had burst. “I won’t say anything! I didn’t see anything—I didn’t hear anything! I just— Crispy titty croutons !”
Gatez blinked once, like he was trying to process the phrase but refrained from commenting on it.
My voice cracked, rising into something desperate, raw. “I j-just want to go back upstairs! Somewhere q-quiet and not die! I just want to forget!”
I whimpered at the end of the sentence; the sound was small, broken, and humiliating, but I meant it. I wasn’t trying to be brave; I was trying to make it back to the safety of four walls, a locked door, and peppermint tea with my life intact.
That was it. That was all.
Gatez stared at me in complete silence, and that was worse than shouting. He looked at me like he could see through every word—like he was measuring whether I was a risk worth eliminating. Gatez didn’t need to raise his voice or lift his hand. I was already unraveling and terrified.
And he knew it.
“I didn’t come here to kill you. But we are having this conversation to make sure you don’t become a problem… so don’t. You can go,” he allowed, his tone flat and final.
“H-Huh? You—you’re letting me go?” My voice cracked under the weight of disbelief.
My chin quivered, and I rocked slightly on my heels—an anxious rhythm only my body understood.
Then came another outburst—soft but broken.
“D-Don’t hurt the stars! Please don’t hurt the stars! I didn’t even mean to look up!”
The words spilled out like a dream from a frightened child. My hands clenched the hem of my robe as my eyes welled up.
Gatez didn’t speak at first; his expression didn’t change either. Like maybe, for just a second, he realized I wasn’t built for all the noise and danger, and I was just a porcelain girl in a world of gunmetal.
“Yes,” he answered slowly. “For now.”
His eyes didn’t soften… they sharpened.
“You don’t strike me as the type to run your mouth.
Hell, you don’t even strike me as the type to be in a place like this.
That’s the only reason you’re still breathing.
So go back upstairs, breathe, and pretend this night never happened.
And if you ever think about speaking on it— ever —think of this moment as a favor; one I will not extend twice.
Now go… and don’t come back down until you think we’re gone. We have some cleaning up to do.”
I realized then Gatez wasn’t letting me go because he trusted me; he was letting me go because, in that moment, I didn’t register as a threat.
However, his silence afterward said more than any warning could’ve: If I ever gave him a reason to regret letting me go, if I ever slipped up, spoke to the wrong person, or so much as breathed suspicion, he wouldn’t hesitate, warn me or argue; he’d just correct the mistake—swiftly and quietly.
That being said, he didn’t have to tell me three times to get the hell out of his face.
I turned and bolted for the stairs, nearly tripping in my fuzzy socks. My heart was pounding so loud in my ears that it drowned out everything behind me. I didn’t look back or breathe until I reached the top.
The moment my door closed behind me, I collapsed against it.
My whole body was trembling and my knees finally gave out. I slid to the floor and wrapped my arms around me like that alone might keep me from unraveling completely. I twitched—hard. A violent jerk of my shoulder, followed by a choked sob, I didn’t even recognize as my own.
“ Don’t shoot! Please—clean it up—don’t shoot! ” The words tumbled from my mouth like my brain and body were firing in separate directions.
I curled into myself, back against the door, knees to my chest, trying to control my breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
The breathing exercises, the closed door, the familiar silence of my room—none of it helped. Because there was blood downstairs. A body. Blu’s. And I had stood there, frozen, useless and helpless. I didn’t scream, run or fight. I just watched it happen, like a bystander in my own nightmare.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my mouth to stifle the sob that rose.
I didn’t cry often those days, but memories of my grandmother and the friend I had lost would sometimes bring me to the brink of tears. However, what was unfolding around me was not something I could simply ignore or shove under a blanket and pretend it didn’t exist.
Gatez’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder: “And if you ever think about speaking on it—ever—think of this moment as a favor; one I will not extend twice.”
In that moment, the weight of his words wrapped around my chest like chains, squeezing until I could barely breathe.
I couldn’t believe a room that had once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a trap, leaving me questioning my safety even there, in the only refuge I had left in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic and uncertain.
I jumped up from the floor, heart still hammering in my chest. I started packing in a frenzy, tossing clothes and necessities into a duffel with no plan, no destination—just urgency.
There was no way I could stay there after what I’d witnessed; not with blood still drying downstairs and the memory of that gunshot echoing in my ears.
I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was this: I had to disappear before someone made that decision for me.