AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mercer walked us toward the kitchen, the dark cabinets appearing black until he flicked another switch. He held me tightly. One hand held both my legs and the other kept me close. I could feel the rage vibrating from him.
He moved around the work surface, not putting me down as he poured two drinks. The apple juice he poured me would be much easier on my throat than the scotch that burned his.
He was quiet...of course he was, but more so than usual. He made no sound as he breathed. His empty glass didn’t clink as he placed it on the shiny surface of the breakfast bar. He sat on a bar stool, rocking me. My heart pounded against his, both beating to the same hasty rhythm.
I stared at the full glass waiting on the table for me and licked my dry lips.
I reached for it, taking a sip.
He searched the room for his keyboard, but it wasn’t here. Remembering where he left it on his exit, he bobbed his head to his glass, giving a silent indicator that he wanted me to pick it up. He gripped the neck of the whisky bottle, strangling it, and moved us into the living room.
An over-stuffed sofa cushion took our combined weight. A coaster welcomed his empty glass as I placed it on a nearby table. He didn’t bother with the glass, drinking straight from the bottle.
Glassy eyes stared down at me.
And I stared back, seeing him through my blurred vision, his image corrupted by tears of fear and pain.
I wiped my eyes, wondering if he wouldn’t look so unhinged when the sadness shifted away.
But he still looked manic, with his wet hair, icy stare, and tense muscles. Muscles that were still wrapped around me.
I pushed away—my aim to sit at his side and not straddle his lap evaporated under his strict touch. I wasn’t allowed.
He didn’t want that.
He wanted this. Me. Close.
“Tell me what happened.” The demand transferred from the keyboard in his hand to the speakers in the room, and I rushed to his pockets, searching for the Post-it notes.
They were there, like I hoped, accompanied by a pen, not a crayon, but they were wet and ruined.
He typed away, and the voice in the room boomed from dark corners.
“You prefer the notes?”
A dark eyebrow raised, questioning me.
I didn’t want to offend him, in case the robotic twang was modeled from his own lilt.
“The voice reminds me of the cell.” I remained respectful.
“I can change the tone,” the voice I loathed told me. “From the main drive.”
I nodded.
“Now...back to my question.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I felt meek and lowly. Weak for getting upset. But I was the opposite. I was strong for surviving.
“I know what he did.”
“Then why are you asking?” I was louder than intended.
A creak upstairs grabbed my attention, and I instantly hushed, not wanting to wake Trix or Ethan, who may have been staying over.
“I want details.”
“Why? That’s sick.”
