Page 50 of Cut Me Down

“When you say helped?” I ask cautiously.

“I killed the man trying to hurt them.”

I nod my head, not really surprised by the outcome.

“Was that the first person you killed?” I look up to him and shudder at the realization of the question I just asked. The tiny voice inside my head screaming at me to shut my mouth.

Jesus, Ashia, you nosey bitch.

“No. The second, though he was the first not in a controlled environment.”

What does that mean? Controlled environment? Like he was set up to kill his first person? Did someone just drag a random person into a room and say ‘Here, kill him?’

I think of what his day could have possibly entailed. How many people did he murder? Did he blow up a building with Dust members inside? Was there a thirty-mile car chase with the police? His days are filled with violence and here I am complaining about how people speak to me? I'm sure his day had much worse things going on.

“Well, what about today? Why did your day suck?” He starts to run his hand up and down my back again, and I’m not sure if he’s preparing me for the answer or getting himself ready.

“Well, I was planning on watching this enchanting woman through my phone all day.” I giggle embarrassingly as if stalking me was funny, but to be honest, I like how protected and wanted he makes me feel. He couldn’t be with me all day, so instead he wanted to see me anyway he could? I shouldn’t like that, but I do. It surprisingly makes me feel safe. “But I had to take out three dealers instead. The last one had abducted two girls. One sixteen and the other fourteen. So, I killed him, got the girls out, and took them to the hospital. After that, I just wanted to see you, so I headed over.” I sit up, not caring that the blanket falls to pool in my lap, and turn to look at him. That’s why he came early? Because he had a shitty day and just wanted to be with me? I'm such a bitch…

“Are they okay?” I ask, my voice cracking under the circumstance.

“They were pretty shaken up, but I had asked for their parent’s numbers and called them on the way to the hospital. So, they shouldn’t have been alone for too long.”

“Are you okay?” I freeze up the moment those words leave my lips. I'm not sure why I asked him that. He’s clearly okay physically, but I don’t know, his mind and demeanor feels off tonight. I couldn’t imagine having to do what he does or see the things he sees. Those poor girls. I can only imagine from my own experiences what that that must have been like for them. So young. Why do these things happen at such an innocent age? Does that not matter to anyone?

The soft grin spreading on his lips pulls me from my deep thoughts. His face clearly softening into a look of adoration. He gently cups my face and runs his thumb over my cheek bone. Taking a shaky deep breath in before he speaks.

“Yeah baby. I'm okay.” The sweet sentiment sends ripples of comfort through my body, but I practically throw them away with the cold chill running through me. Why can’t I just accept the small affection? Every time he shows the slightest bit of endearment I close the cage to my soul and lock it.

“Well, I'm glad you got them out.” I say, gently shifting back and creating a small amount of space that wasn’t there before.

“Me too.” He smiles at me, and I try to bite away my returning grin. He softly moves his hand back around my hip and cups my side in his large hand. “What’d they say to you today?”

“Just stupid, sexual based comments. And a couple asked about the bruises on my neck.” I pause, and a look of concern grows across his brows. “I had forgotten my old excuses, and didn’t know what to say this time.”

“So, what did you say?” I try to keep the embarrassed grin from popping on my face, but I feel it sprouting. I'm already a walking train wreck. Do I really want him to know what happens when I panic?

“Don’t laugh at me.” My face sours.

“Okay.” A smirk is already twinging on his lips.

“When Serena put those notes into my patient file, she made a joke about falling onto the railing by the stairs.” I cringe at myself as I say those words, and I watch as he triesreallyhard not to burst out laughing, only to fail. He flings his head backward as a deep guttural laugh escapes his mouth. His body shaking as he does. It’s so contagious, I can’t help but smile at his dramatic response. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” I say as I hit his shoulder and begin to giggle. “I panicked okay? It’s been a long time.” He actually has a really nice laugh. Deep, amusing, and not wheezy or snotty.

“I'm sorry.” A few more chuckles escape his mouth. “Please tell me you did not fucking say that?” More chuckles escape as he tries to finish his sentence. I start laughing and tearing up from the embarrassment.

“I did.” We both burst into laughter again. His grip tightens around me, and he pulls me closer to him, without him even realizing it, I think.

“That is some Final Destination bullshit. You know what? That’s what we’re watching.” He reaches for the controller, but I swipe it before he can grab it.

“Don’t change my movie. I can't stand that.” I laugh and point at him with it as he chuckles. What only seems like a few seconds passes us by, and our laughter starts to die down. His face softens even more and I notice the way his pupils dilate as he stares at me. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” He pauses. “I've never heard you laugh. You should do it more.” I raise a brow.

“Come on. You've been stalking me for what? Over two weeks, and you haven't heard me laugh?” He shakes his head and his face forms into what I can only describe as a smolder.

“No, I haven't, but you need to do it all the time. It might be the best thing I've ever heard.” God damn it. If he doesn’t stop saying things like that I’m going to melt into a puddle right here on the bed. “Though, you might want to pick a new excuse out of a hat tomorrow. If that one was the best you could come up with, I can only imagine how horrible your old excuses were.” I silently thank whatever God exists for his sly joke.

“Yeah, they were pretty bad back then too.” We laugh again, and I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone other than Serena. Most of the time, the people I talk to can’t handle my dark humor. Damien? He’s laughing over a poor excuse for my attempted murder evidence. Who else laughs about that? No one.

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