Page 41 of Save Me

Someone hurt Maddox. Made him terrified to touch me. Terrified to look at me too long. Terrified to do anything at all.

The angry feeling is all-encompassing. It feels like when that douche called Joshua a slur, like my client mocking Logan and his boyfriends, but times a million. It’s all kinds of coiled energy in my chest that makes me want to scream, punch the wheel, and rip my fingers into someone’s eye sockets. I want to burn the world down until I can make it better for Maddox.

Because no one deserves to feel that way, unsafe in their own skin.

I’m buzzing when I pull into the shop’s lot. This is the first time I’ve been back since Logan’s…incident. I’m finding now that the adrenaline from knowing what Maddox has been through makes me not care what Logan is going to do. If he were going to do something, he knows where I live. He would have done it by now. So, I stalk into the store, ripping the door open, ready to either ignore or confront as necessary.

Turns out no one is here.

Fine. Better for me.

With shaking hands, I pull out my phone. I’ve never felt such an electric hatred, and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s coursing through my veins round and round and round, gathering more energy as it goes.

I need to do something. Preferably to the guy who made Maddox afraid.

And so, I type Maddox’s name into the search bar.

All kinds of generic results pop up, including his certifications and graduations. I start searching the websites that have related names. I run into people with the same last name, family, I presume, but no marriages or anything.

So I try something else. I search Maddox’s past addresses in the search bar. My fingers shake as I do it. I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong by digging into information that isn’t mine to have.

But I won’t do anything with it. I’m just…checking.

A name keeps popping up associated with Maddox’s old address: Arthur Jeffries, in his late forties. That’s too old, right? When I search that name, a criminal record pops up.

My stomach twists as I hover over the link. Fuck. This feels so invasive. What if it isn’t even the right guy?

The bell over the door chimes, and my client walks in. I greet her with a nod, then hit the link.

While it loads, I tend to my client and get prepared for her ink. I’m not really sure if she talks to me or not; all I can do is focus on the search. And when results pop up that I have to pay for, I don’t hesitate.

Arthur Jeffries. Domestic violence, dismissed.

Arthur Jeffries. Disorderly conduct, convicted

Arthur Jeffries. OVI, canceled

Arthur Jeffries. Theft, dismissed

Arthur Jeffries. Disorderly conduct, dismissed

Arthur Jeffries. Assault, dismissed

I stare at the list, my mouth going dry. The domestic violence date wasn’t long ago. Is this him?

My tattoo is a blur, the buzzing in my hand doing a line straight to my head. I keep going round and round in my head. I take breaks to search Arthur further. He’s a registered nurse at a local hospital.

Fuck. This has to be him.

Why was the case dismissed? What happened? Did Arthur threaten Maddox? What exactly did he do to him in the first place?

The thought makes that energy return, and I have to pull the tattoo machine away from my client.

I should kill him.

The thought comes out of the depths of my brain, clawing its way to the top. He deserves it. He deserves to die for what he did.

While the thought scares me, it’s a thought I’ve had before.