Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
KIARA
Three months later
“One more round of shots?” Yolanda asks hopefully, holding out a shot glass toward me. She has box braids now, and instead of gold beads, she has silver ones now; they shimmer despite the dim lighting inside of the club.
I scrunch up my nose and shake my head. “I can’t. I’m about to puke.”
She laughs and downs the drink. “You’ve only had two, little lightweight.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of my ice water. “Very funny, Yo. I just don’t want to feel like I’m drinking myself into a stupor from grief.”
Yolanda’s eyes soften at that. The past three months have been rough.
Grandma died the night Zyran abandoned me in the forest. She had woken up in the middle of the night— of course it had to be that night—and when she couldn’t find me, she called the police. It didn’t help that she’d found the knife Zyran gave me in my bed—Zyran either left it there on purpose, or he dropped it when he forced me out of the house.
Officers found me wandering the streets an hour later, disheveled, cold, dirty, and hysterically crying because I couldn’t find my way home. When I walked through the door and saw Grandma sitting at the dining room table, being consoled by an officer, I knew I had to tell her what happened.
I spilled everything , leaving out the sexual bits, of course. Because I still hadn’t seen his face—except for his eyes and mouth, of course—there wasn’t much the police could do except make a report. I couldn’t remember the make, model, or color of his truck, just that it was really old. And for some reason, I just couldn’t give them his name. I don’t know why I wanted to protect him so badly, but it came at the expense of Grandma’s wellbeing.
The officers were on their way out of the house when she collapsed. Everything after that feels like a blur. I just remember clutching her against me and screaming at the top of my lungs for them to help her. An ambulance came quickly, but not quickly enough. Grandma was already gone by the time they got there.
As I watched them zip up her body bag and carry her out of the house, I felt a guilt so immense that I didn’t think I would ever get over it. I should have just kept the break-ins to myself. I should have made up some lame excuse for why I was wandering around town in the middle of the night in nothing but shorts and a tank top.
The knowledge that I’m partially responsible for my grandmother’s death will haunt me for the rest of my life.
In the days after her passing, I felt alone and numb. The last of my family is gone, and now I’m all by myself in this cruel world. I found myself vying for the company of my masked stranger, desperate for his cruel, yet tantalizing touch.
But, more than anything, I want him to come back so I can kill the fuck out of him.
If it wasn’t for him, Grandma would still be here, and I wouldn’t be fighting the urge to throw myself into oncoming traffic every day.
I still don’t know why he did what he did; I fully expected him to kill me that night. Things won’t go back to the way they were before. I won’t be able to look at him without feeling the need to drive that knife right into his heart. Ever since that night, I’ve left my front door unlocked, a silent invitation for him to come back.
Not that he needs it. Even if every door and window to my house were cemented shut, he’d still find a way inside.
Ever since Grandma died, I’ve been hearing noises in the house. Where Grandpa’s presence is the familiar scuffle of his slippers against the hardwood floors, Grandma’s is more jarring—it’s movement within the walls and thumps from downstairs. This morning, I heard a door open and close. At first, I thought it was Zyran, but whenever I go to investigate, there’s no one there.
Yo reaches across the table and grabs my hand in hers, breaking me from my thoughts. I will the tears not to fall.
“How have you been, Kee?” she asks softly. This is the first time I’ve been out of the house since Grandma’s funeral. She’s been the most amazing friend, calling and texting to check on me, and when I told her I needed some time to myself, she gave it to me without a second thought. She’d send a text occasionally to let me know that she was there, and I feel so lucky to have a friend like her.
I’d kept most of what was happening to me from her, too, but after that night, I spilled everything. I told her all about my dark desires and that I still craved Zyran’s touch, even though I blamed him for Grandma’s death. She didn’t judge me like I’d assumed she would, and that made me feel like the shittiest friend for keeping so much from her.
I sigh and run my thumb along her knuckle absentmindedly. “I feel better. Today is the first time in a while I’ve felt normal.”
She smiles sadly. “Grieving can take such a huge toll on you. You don’t even realize how much it affects you until you have your first ‘normal’ day.”
I nod. “Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just want to have fun.”
She grins and pulls me from the table to the dance floor. Clubgoers cheer as Dance With Me by 112 blasts through the speakers, filling the room with its heavy bass. I catch two guys staring at us from the bar.
“Feeling lucky tonight?” Yolanda purrs in my ear, practically eye fucking the one on the right. He licks his bottom lip and walks over, his friend following suit.
I plaster a smile on my face and hope I don’t look terrifying.
“Hey,” the guy on the right says to Yo. She giggles as he grabs her hand and pulls her away.
“I’m Malcolm,” my guy says, holding out his hand. His teeth are so white they practically blind me in the dimness of the club, and his dark brown eyes are the same shade as his skin, which is smooth and unblemished. The curly hair of his beard just barely connects to his fade, and his long black hair at the top is tied into a bun. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a crisp white shirt and shoes—fresh from head to toe.
He’s perfect , and yet I can’t help but think of Zyran.
I take Malcolm’s hand gently and shake. My eyes scan the room for Yolanda; a part of me wants to pull her back and cling to her, but I also don’t want to be a cock block.
“I’m Kiara.”
He smiles handsomely and nods toward the dance floor. “Dance with me?”
Before I have a chance to respond, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me against him. I dance stiffly as he instantly starts grinding his hips against mine, rough and demanding.
I try to enjoy dancing with Malcolm, but my mind keeps wandering back to Zyran and the complicated feelings I have for him right now.
Malcolm must sense my discomfort because he stops dancing and quirks a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.
“So, you don’t want to dance?”
I never said I did, asshole.
Instead of saying what’s on my mind, I shake my head and say, “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood, I guess.”
“Are you in the mood for something else?” he asks, lifting the corner of his mouth in a sly grin.
“I’m really not,” I snap, irritated at his insinuation. Any attraction I had to him just a few minutes ago is now diminished.
He takes a step back like I’ve pushed him—which is impossible, considering he’s got to be well over six feet tall—and glares at me. “What did you just say?”
“I said I’m not in the mood to do what you’re clearly wanting from me.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say or do anything, just stands there glaring down at me. Then, he’s suddenly gripping my arm and pulling me in the direction of the restrooms.
“Get off me!” I yell, beating at his arms as he practically drags me behind him, like I’m a doll. Everyone on the dance floor is too preoccupied with themselves and each other to even notice what’s happening, and my heart races at the fact that we’re almost to the hallway where the restrooms are. Once we’re in there, I won’t be able to get out.
I start frantically trying to tug my arm out of his grip, but it’s like a vise. He won’t let me go.
Shit!
Now we’re in the hall, and I can barely see a foot in front of me because it’s so dark back here. Malcolm continues down the hall until we’ve reached the men’s restroom. He opens the door and pushes me inside. I fall to the floor as he towers over me menacingly, and just when he takes a step closer, he’s suddenly yanked back through the door.