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CHAPTER FIVE
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BEAUTY GURU AND THE PSYCHO
OPHELIA
IT’D BEEN A DAY. Actually, it’d been six years shoved into one day.
Actually actually, it’d been lifetimes shoved into years that were squished into one single day. Because being kidnapped wasn’t something that happened to everyone. And having their home destroyed wasn’t, either.
That meant, on the bad-luck scale, I was going for some kind of record. Two rare, improbable occurrences on the same damn day.
Shit.
I hated crying.
I mean, I was sure no one liked crying, but I hated it extra.
It didn’t happen often.
No matter how beautiful the love story.
How tragic the death.
How touching the lyrics that were woven together with music that swelled and slowed—each chord orchestrated to pluck at the strings of my heart.
Even the biggie, the sad and inevitable death of a movie’s loyal pet, might make me choke up, but few tears were shed.
The one exception was, of course, the beginning of UP. Oh, and the furnace scene in Toy Story 3.
Someone would have to have ice water in their veins to walk away from those unaffected.
Since I wasn’t in the habit of watching either movie, my tears tended to stockpile. And once the dam broke, it was ugly.
Ug-ly.
My tears weren’t because I was scared—though I was…
Kinda.
I’d have to be stupid to not be apprehensive of Psycho, but I didn’t feel fear down to my bones. In fact, it was the opposite. I almost felt safe with him. But I was willing to bet Ted Bundy’s victims felt the same way up until the whole murder thing, so even if my gut and intuition weren’t on red alert, a lifetime of movies and serial killer specials kept me smart.
My tears were for my apartment. For everything lost. For the beauty that used to be my home. For the sentimental things that could never be replaced.
That was what broke my heart and the dam of emotions.
Psycho’s voice was sympathetic as he whispered, “O?”
He’s lucky I don’t blow my nose in his shirt for putting me through hell.
Deep breathing, I tried to slow the onslaught of tears because I didn’t want the massive headache that followed pent-up crying jags.
I’m tough, I’ll get through this. I need to calm down.
Focus on the now. The rest is just stuff.
That was enough to do the trick. Quick as they started, my tears slowed before stopping.
