Rose
Getting into the safe was easier than I hoped. It was hidden under my father’s desk in his office and by the looks of it, no one had been in there in years. Another healthy coating of dust without a smudge to be seen. I yearned to swipe at it with my finger but I knew it was better I didn’t.
All I had to do, I muse as I head toward the truck as stealthily as possible, was push a few boxes around the closet in his office, lift the floorboards, and enter the code he’d given.
My birthday.
10252004.
Abel would ask how I feel about that, determined to find the humanity in me.
I didn’t feel a thing.
There was a hundred thousand dollars in there—all crisp hundred-dollar bills—now stowed in my backpack. There was also a gun in there, which I swiped quickly.
“Hey,” Abel says as I climb inside, two backpacks now in my possession. “How’d it go?” He’s looking me over, eyes perusing my face and hands and body like he’s making sure I’m in one piece.
“I was thinking of a change in scenery,” I start before reaching in my pocket and pulling out a key. “My dad’s old Porsche is still in the garage.”
He frowns, scratching at one of the tattoos on his neck. This one looks like a flag of some sort. “I don’t know. I like this truck. We blend in.”
“The truck is pretty loud. Besides, what happens when it breaks down? If we’re attempting to get as far away from here as possible, we need a more reliable car,” I try to reason.
“But then she’ll know we were here.” Worry fills his tone and I try to make sense of the situation.
“She’ll know regardless. Joe called and left a message. I deleted it but I’m sure he’ll call again.”
Abel hits the steering wheel, muttering what I can only assume are expletives in Spanish.
“But no one was home. And I have no idea when she’ll decide to show up again.” Nor when Grace will inevitably show up.
Abel reaches across and grabs my face, and I let him, loving his grip on my chin as his gaze penetrates any of my concerns. “We’ll take the car then. Just get it and follow me. We’ll get rid of this truck and hit the road.”
“Okay but…don’t forget what I want.”
It’s strange to have to include someone’s feelings in my plans. It’s the oddest thing, having to look in his eyes and tell him not to forget that I want to kill my mother in so many words. It’s even stranger that he only nods and leans forward, rubbing my lips with his thumb.
And then a man is kissing his monster like her lips are carved from an angel.