Page 17 of Devil’s Candy

CHAPTER SEVEN

Candy

I wake to a soft knock on my door.

Jerking up, I blink my eyes, trying to clear the fog over my mind.

Why am I sitting in my kitchen?

But that’s when the lock turns on its own. I start to scramble up and then notice the blood on the doorknob and on the floor in the shape of a handprint. My hand.

The details come flooding back as the door opens, a large male figure filling the doorway. “Candy.”

“Sver?”

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a wet rag that smells of bleach and begins meticulously wiping down the doorknob before he closes the door.

He crosses to me and does the same with my floor.

I stare at him, not saying a word as he picks me up in his arms and heads for the only door in the apartment, the one for the bathroom.

I don’t question it as I curl into him, making myself as small as possible.

He steps into the tiny bathroom, the door hitting the sink like it always does, as he sets my feet on the floor, his other arm tightly around me. Then he turns on the shower.

My eyes close as he starts to strip off my clothes. “Can you stand in the shower?”

“Yes.”

He lifts me and places me in the tepid spray, grabbing the bar of soap as he starts to scrub. “Shampoo your hair.”

I grab the bottle and squirt some into my hand. I’m exhausted and numb, as I half-heartedly scrub.

He sets the soap down and starts to massage the shampoo through my hair for me. In my whole life, I have no memory of anyone bathing me like this, ever.

When I was kid, I was dirty a lot. The other kids made fun of me all through elementary school. It’s what started my obsession with the beauty industry. I wanted to be pretty and clean like the other girls. As I got older, I kept the obsession with beauty products but started using my skill to look different, express myself instead of trying to blend in.

Sver turns me, tipping my head back so that my hair is in the spray. His hands run down the strands, helping the shampoo wash out of my hair.

“What happened to the other guy? Pablo?” I ask, my eyes closed. I don’t want to see if he’s lying.

“Don’t worry about him.”

I draw in a jagged breath. “He was sent by Marco.”

“I know.”

“Marco will come again.” A violent shiver moves through me. “I think it’s time for me to leave New York.”

“Marco is never coming again,” Sver says with a firmness that makes my eyes pop open. There is nothing in his eyes. No malice. No anger. Just…truth.

“Really?” I draw in a jagged gulp of air. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

He’s using a cloth to remove all of the soap, and the feel of his hand moving steadily over my body helps soothe my jangled nerves. “I should have left a long time ago. I’ve just only ever lived in New York. I…”

“Hush, my sweet treat. Right now, the only thing you need to worry about is getting some sleep.”