Me: I’m out.
I toss the phone on the floor before he can respond. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, don’t want to question my choice. I got into this for my freedom, but I don’t think it’s worth it anymore. The scars from this night will never be worth anything.
“I’m out,” I mouth to myself as I lie down in bed and shut my eyes. But my thoughts whisper something else. I’m not out. This is barely starting. There’s much more death and violence in my future.
“Welcome to hell, Ryler. A place where the evil thrive and the weak die.”
I think I’ve been in hell for a while.
Chapter 9
A Riddle
Emery
For the first half of the night, I sleep fantastically. I dream of Ryler and his body covering mine, hot flesh to hot flesh. Warm lips. Searing metal. God, that orgasm...
Then I wake up, and the figure I left behind at my old house is in my room. This time, I know who it is, though.
“Emery, please help me,” Ellis begs, stretching his hand out toward me. “I’m so cold.”
I reach my hand out for him, but don’t dare get out of bed. “How can I help when I don’t know what’s going on?”
“Ask questions.” And just like that, he’s gone.
Ask questions? About what? And to whom?
I sleep terribly for the rest of the night, tossing and turning. I wake up well before the sun rises and consider going for my jog early, but after the incident last night, I’m not sure I should go out alone.
I decide to busy myself by taping up the window. I use some masking tape I find in one of my boxes and a grocery bag since I don’t have any plastic. I’m not sure if I should tell the landlord or just fix the door myself. I consider calling my mom and finding a subtle way to ask for her advice, but my mother will more than likely be able to read me.
I remember when I was thirteen and stole a candy bar from her purse. I wasn’t allowed to have candy because I was “getting too thick” as she put it. She sat me down in the chair, taped my legs and arms together, and asked me the same question for five hours straight.
“Did you steal the candy, Emery?”
On the fifth hour, I cracked, too hungry and tired to go on. My father was so disappointed.
“When my father did that to me,” he said, “I made it three days. How are you ever going to survive torture, Emery?”
No, I definitely won’t go to my parents for help. I’d rather stab out my eye.
I decide to ask Ryler. He was so nice last night, and I don’t think he’ll mind.
Since I skipped the jog this morning, I opt out of taking a shower. I pull my hair into a ponytail, dab some lip gloss on, and tug on a grey T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Today, I’m going minimal, another part of breaking my routine.
I slip on my sandals and cautiously open the front door, peering out into the stairway to make sure the coast is clear before I step outside. Then I jog down the stairs, stop in front of Ryler’s door, and raise my hand to knock. But I realize that the sun is barely kissing the top of the hills. It’s really early. Ryler had to have gone to bed late since he left for work at eleven.
I start to back away, figuring I can wait a few hours to ask him, when the door swings open and Ryler walks out, doing up the belt on his jeans.
My gaze immediately drops to where his hands are, and I bite my lip as my skin warms.
“Emery?”
I look him in the eyes. “Hi.” I smile brightly.
“Hey.” Dark circles are under his eyes, his shoulders are hunched, and his hair is disheveled, as if he just rolled out of bed. He’s still beautiful, amazingly stunning, striking me speechless. “What are you doing here?”
“Um...” Oh, yeah, I did come down here for a reason other than to stare at him. I point upstairs. “Okay, so last night, my window was broken, and since I’ve never rented a place before, I’m not sure what to do. Should I report it, or should I just fix it myself?”
“What’d you do? Go home and have a big party for the first time?” he signs with a forced, playful grin.
I miss a beat. Last night, his smiles seemed so real and genuine, but now, they seem all wrong.
I lower my hand to my side and shake my head. “I wish that were true. Someone actually threw a brick through it.”
His lips part in shock. “Are you being serious?”
“Unfortunately. It happened not too long after you left.”
Signs of his exhaustion dissipate and are replaced with anger. “Why the hell would someone do that to you? Fucking assholes. I bet it was our neighbor on the bottom floor. He sometimes gets destructive when he drinks.” He storms for the stairs, his intensity startling me. “You know what? I’m going to go talk to him. If he did this, he’s going to pay.”
I snag the bottom of Ryler’s shirt and my knuckles graze his side, causing shivers to course through me. “I don’t think it was him.”
Ryler briefly glances at my hand on his shirt, and I quickly free it from my death grip. I’m not positive what the boundaries are of this thing we have going on or even if it can be considered a thing. As with everything else, I’m uncertain what happens after you make out with your hot, mysterious neighbor. One thing I am certain of, though. The protective side he’s showing now is totally turning me on, which also may be another first for me.
“How would you know?” Strands of his black hair dangle in his eyes as he looks me over. “Do you know who did it, Emery?”