Page 19 of Cut Me Down

Her liking of science fiction media and reading would prompt a much more collected feeling. She has two books, and from a total of ten minutes I’ve seen her read either of them, it seems that her mind races too much to complete them. As many times as I’ve caught her favorite space franchise on her small TV, I had previously thought that she would have some collector’s figures, or ships, but there’s nothing. If she weren’t home, this place would look abandoned. She needs more space and money to embrace the things she likes. That’s something else I’ll be able to do for her.

After watching my Goddess ravage herself, I couldn’t resist coming over, but my main objective is to hack her phone. Not only so I could have her location and search history, but so I could block it for anyone else that could possibly want it. The fact that Cooper is alive and well, and isn’t where he should be, doesn’t sit right with me. I’m going to do everything I can to keep him from reaching her, and then we’ll exact her revenge together.

After all of this time, would he really come back for her? I checked the date on her restraining order, and it hasn’t expired yet. Not that a flimsy piece of paper would keep a criminal like him away. I shouldn’t automatically assume he’s on his way here. So far, there’s no evidence of that, but something doesn’t feel right about it. It’s as if I can feel his venomous breath down my neck. Like the dark cloud she imagines that surrounds her is real, and it’s only getting thicker as the hours pass. But if he is on his way here, that makes things easier for me.

I sneak into her bedroom to see my beautiful woman sleeping. The faint blue and yellow lights from outside lining her every curve and showcasing her gorgeous face. Looking at her now, it’s almost impossible for me not to yank the blanket off of her and shove my cock into her cunt. I feel my mouth salivate, and that pushing urge raising me to toes almost forces me to lunge towards her. I may know her, but she doesn’t know me yet, and I need to remember that. As hard as it is, I swallow, hard, and knock the urge from my thoughts as I carefully pick her phone up off the side table and set myself in a small, grey, padded chair in the corner of her room, facing the fire escape.

I click a few times on her phone, unlock the screen, begin looking through everything, and it’s almost as bare as her apartment. She doesn’t have social media, except for a popular app that has an endless loop of videos set up by an algorithm, but her profile is private, has no profile picture or videos posted, and it doesn’t have a username pertaining to anything about her. Just ‘User’ and a bunch of random numbers. My guess is she just has it to watch. She does find comfort in humorous media. Her movie choices some nights have proven that.

Pulling up her gallery, I notice there’s not many photos or videos either. She does have a photo of one of my notes, and that has a warm, fluttered feeling running through me. As if the flower wasn’t obvious enough, my Goddess was picturing me as she touched herself tonight. Does she wonder what I look like? How big my cock is? What my large hands could do to her small body?

The other pictures she has are saved from her messages, and they’re selfies of her and Serena. She doesn’t seem to be comfortable in her own skin, which is astonishing to me with how beautiful she is. Does she not see her gorgeous brown eyes or soft, sweet face when she looks in the mirror? What does she see when she looks at herself?

There is one picture that her friend isn’t in, and it looks to be from around Christmas time. She’s holding a glass of eggnog, with the other barbers behind her also holding glasses and making different faces. Clearly, she was drunk at the time, but at least she looks slightly more relaxed in this photo. The eggnog is halfway surprising, since the only alcohol I’ve seen her consume is Malibu coconut rum. Disgusting stuff, but I suppose I could learn to tolerate it for her. Whatever my girl likes, I like.

I start to look through her messages, and there’s more than I expected. A LOT of texts between her and Serena, but in the past few days there’s also been conversations with other people.

Richard Anderson:

Just checking in kiddo! You have time for lunch next week? Trying to plan it with Serena, I’m sure she’ll share the details. You know if you need anything you can call. We miss you!

Miss you too! I’m okay, and yes! Lunch would be awesome! I’ll get with Ser to make sure I can take off on a long lunch!

Ashia? Take lunch? Now that’s something I haven’t seen yet. Ever since I hacked the cameras in this building, I’ve only ever seen her quickly eat a small salad in between clients in the back room. Either taking hours between people or minutes to consume the whole thing. No in between. I continue to look at the messages to see an unfamiliar name. Tony?Who the fuck is Tony!?

Tony:

-Hey, Ash. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay this week.

Yes, Officer Nosey, I’m fine. LOL. Same boring routine, I keep telling you that you don’t have to check in, though it’s appreciated. See you next week?

You betcha! Glad you’re ok!

‘You betcha’? Pussy. What man talks like that? Tony?... Tony?...Anthony? As in Officer Anthony Bordeaux? The officer that responded to her attempted murder? I’ll make a mental note to check his background later, and if need be, put a fucking bullet in his brain. He clearly annoys her, and I’d kill him just for getting on her nerves. God help him if he flirts with or touches her. I’ll do more than kill him, I’ll torture him first.

There are also a few messages from Dr. Payne that she never answered. Most likely on purpose.

Dr. Payne:

Ashia, you didn’t come for the group this week, so we all wanted to make sure you were alright. We’re all thinking about you, and if you need anything, any time, please do not hesitate to reach out.

I understand this time of year can be hard for you, if you would like someone to accompany you to the cemetery, I’m more than happy to tag along.

The group discussed the possibility of coming to the barber shop to check on you. Though I told them surprising you was not the best idea. Could you at least let one of us know you’re alive? The other women are worried sick.

Fuck, no wonder she stopped going. I had read that her parents died in April, but that was nine years ago now. Just because it’s the same month, doesn’t mean she’s having trouble with it. How well do they know her? There’s not a single piece of evidence that anyone, including Ashia, has visited her parents’ graves. I know, I’ve checked. I’m sure I know her better than the pretentious Dr. Payne. I’ve never been to group therapy, but from what I’ve heard and reading these texts, it sounds miserable. No wonder she’d rather feel physical pain instead.

I quickly lock her phone to the sound of her sleepy groans as I watch her shift and lay on her back. She barely opens her eyes, and my heart skips a beat. Adrenaline begins to rush through my veins at the preparation of how to handle her. Please, don’t start screaming or do anything rash. This is not how I wanted this to go…

Thankfully, she softly closes her eyes and after a few moments her breaths even back out. The rise and fall of her perfect chest as shallow and smooth as before. I sigh quietly, thankful I didn’t scare the ever-living shit out of her. Even in her sleep, her paranoia gets to her, and I should’ve been more concerned about that before.

I’ve noticed that too, watching her. She’ll wake up at random times. Most of the time just to take a quick look around and then go back to sleep. However, sometimes, she wakes up in a panic. Sweating and heavy breaths taking over her chest. It always takes her a few minutes to calm herself down before she goes back to sleep, but the fact that she can’t get any peace, even in isolation, has my chest aching for her. I’ll give her the peace and relaxation she needs. By the time she gets to know me, her nightmares will stop. I’ll see to it.

After a minute, and I could tell she is back in a deep sleep, I walk over and gently place her phone back. Just one touch…that couldn’t hurt, right? Moving her soft blanket back over her body so she doesn’t get cold, admiring her figure as I do so. I raise my hand, gently use my knuckle to caress her face, and easily move her hair away from her cheek. Her skin and hair are just as soft as I imagined…and finally feeling her sends shockwaves through my body and into my core. Affirmation for every feeling I’ve had for her this far showing in those waves. I have to have her soon, before I can’t fight the urge anymore. I need her. My body shivers just thinking of it.

Soon…

Chapter eight

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