Chapter 18
Nora
I t’s official. I’m certifiably insane. They might as well lock me up and throw away the key.
I must be, to have done what I did last night.
Scrap that, what I’ve been doing this past week.
Somehow, I’ve fallen into a spiral that I can’t seem to get out of.
Each night I’m not only allowing him to come into my room, I’m looking forward to it.
Worse still, I don’t want him to stop. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the first man I ever let truly touch me and I don’t even know his name or what he looks like.
But, my god, it felt incredible.
I thought I’d become pretty good at pleasuring myself, but it was nothing compared to the earth-shatteringly amazing way my body exploded under his tongue.
My thoughts are filled with my current moral and sexual dilemma, as they have been every day since I first started this dangerous entanglement, the whole walk to work.
I should end things before it gets even messier.
But what if he reacts badly? He isn’t dangerous now, but is that only because I’m doing what he wants?
Should I ask to see him? To know his name? What if I don’t like what I see? Am I so shallow that I wouldn’t be interested if he was old, unattractive, or scarred? I can’t help but wonder why he’s hiding from me.
I’m so lost in my head that I don’t notice our new student volunteer, Tammy, come up to me.
Tammy’s a nice girl, but she tends to talk incessantly, something that most days annoys me as it means she spends more time talking than working and I can barely get any peace.
Today, I’m grateful to see her—she can distract me from my internal conflict.
“Hey, Tammy, what’s up?” I say breezily.
“Nora! Oh my gosh, we weren’t sure if you were going to make it in today, are you okay?” she says her face full of concern.
“Why?” I ask, brow furrowed as I wonder what would have given her that idea.
Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes widen in shock before crumpling into sad sympathy. “Oh, you don’t know. You haven’t heard?”
“Haven’t heard what?” I reply a little exasperatedly.
“I thought you’d have seen it on the TV, Mike is dead. It’s all over the news.”
I blank for a moment, processing the information. “Dead? What? How?” I ask in disbelief.
“The police found his body this morning. He was murdered,” Tammy says.
I can tell she’s thriving on the drama. She didn’t really know Mike, so to her, this is just some juicy gossip, like watching a true crime documentary.
“Murdered? Who would want to murder Mike?” I say in disbelief. He might have turned out to be a total ass to me, but I can’t imagine anyone hating him enough to want him dead.
“The police don’t know. I assume they’ll be coming here to interview his coworkers at some point.”
Oh god. That means I’ll have to talk to the cops, something I resolutely try to avoid.
“How did they find him?” I ask, unsure if I want to hear the answer.
“Some homeless guy found him under a bridge in South Bronx,” Tammy divulges, her eyes lighting up with the implication.
South Bronx is a dangerous area, one that Mike would have no reason to visit, ever.
“You and Mike were friends, weren’t you?
Why would he have been there? Did he have a drug problem? ” Tammy eagerly probes.
I shake my head in disbelief. “Other than the occasional joint, he wasn’t into drugs. At least not to my knowledge. Do the police think that’s what it was? A drug deal gone wrong? Or a mugging?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it, considering the state his body was in.” Tammy shudders at the thought.
“Tammy, enough chit-chat, it’s story time now,” Rose interrupts.
“Yes, Rose,” Tammy says, rolling her eyes. “I’m here if you want to talk, Nora,” Tammy adds, squeezing my shoulder before leaving.
I give her a small smile of thanks, but I wouldn’t confide in her if she were the last person on earth.
“Are you alright, Nora? I assume the delightful Tammy has filled you in if you didn’t watch the news this morning.” Rose doesn’t care much for Tammy, but there’s genuine sympathy in her eyes as she looks at me.
“Yes, but do you mind if I take a minute in the break room?” I ask.
“You don’t need to stay. Tammy and I can manage, I know you and Mike were close,” she offers kindly.
“I’ll be fine. I think I’d rather be here, distracted,” I reply.
She nods understandingly. “Alright. Take all the time you need and then you can be on shelf stacking when you come back.”
“Thanks, Rose,” I reply gratefully before heading to the break room.
My hands are shaking as I pour myself a cup of coffee and I decide to put sugar in it, something I never do. I sit down on one of the least worn chairs, foam sticking out at the edge where there’s a tear in the fabric and pull out my phone to search for news about Mike.
I read in horror about how he had been beaten beyond recognition, several bones broken, including a break on his arm that was bad enough for the bone to pierce the skin.
His testicles were crushed as if by being stamped on and then his skull was crushed.
The police believe he had been alive for the entire assault.
Police were only able to identify him from dental records, and that had been difficult as many teeth were missing.
The body had actually been discovered a week ago, but it had taken them this long to identify him.
Now that the media knew the victim was a well-respected librarian and not a homeless addict, the story had been more widely reported.
My blood runs cold as I realize that if Mike was found a week ago, it’s very likely I was one of the last people to see him alive. But how is that possible? He’d texted Rose after he was already dead.
Which can only mean one thing. The killer used his phone. They knew him and they didn’t want people to be suspicious. They didn’t expect his body to be identified.
My mind goes back to the last night I saw Mike. Max’s rage as he beat Mike half to death. He was like a different person then. Could Max have gone after Mike to finish the job?
No, I tell myself. He stayed the night with me. He was there when I fell asleep and still there when I woke up the next morning.
But then another, far darker, thought crosses my mind.
What if my watcher did it? Could he have killed Mike out of some misguided belief that he was protecting me?
I know nothing about the stranger I’ve invited into my bedroom.
Like some nightmare from a horror movie, could he be a monster capable of doing this?
What the hell am I going to say to the police? What will I do after? I can’t avoid talking to them, but once I do, it won’t take long for my father to hunt me down.
I don’t want to run again, but if I stay, I could lose everything.