Page 37 of Cut Me Down

“Oh my God, you killed him!?”

“No! I didn’t…” I hesitate at the words about to come out of my mouth, but I need someone to talk to…someone to confide in and help me understand this, and Ser will be up front with me. She’ll put me on a 72-hour hold if need be, but at least she’ll hear me out first. “Damien did.” She jerks away, the look in her eyes almost disbelieving, and starts pacing. I see the sweat begin to bead on her forehead, and her forceful steps tell me she’s truly concerned. She’s acting how Ishouldbe right now.

“Okay, I need you to start from the beginning. The moment you got out of the Uber.” I spend the next few minutes telling her everything that happened last night. Her hands shake as she looks at my face to check for a fracture, and she gives me an Advil and an ice pack for the swelling. Her mind is swirling, so much so that she almost put the pill bottle to my throat instead of the ice pack. “So, you met him at the club last night? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we were having such a good time, and by the time I found you again you were dancing with that guy. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to ruin your night. It had been so long since we went out.”

“Fuck Greg! You should’ve said something! You are way more important than a walk-in dick appointment.” Wait, Greg?

“I thought his name was Garrett?” I ask, confusion showing in my furrowed brows.

“Irrelevant!” I chuckle slightly at that. The poor girl doesn’t like the fact that my stalker finger fucked me at the bar and then rocked my world, but she’ll fuck a random guy atherapartment. I still love her though, even with her bad decisions. “This is dangerous, Ashia.” My mind loses the humorous thoughts.

“I know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I press my fingers to my temples to try and relieve some of this headache. What I told her is the truth, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like he has me in a trance, running my mind around in circles until I'm too dizzy to notice he’s cornered me.

“I mean hey, don’t get me wrong, I'm so glad you finally had sex again, but Jesus fucking Christ, Ash, can’t you find a normal guy?” Her hand slaps her thigh with the same force as her disappointment.

“I have asked myself that for years, Ser.” Her eyes twinge with guilt as she looks away from me. She stands once again with her hands on her hips as she lets out a huff. Clearly attempting to calm herself down.

“So, where’s Cooper’s body?” She asks, turning her head in my direction but not looking at me directly.

“Not a clue, hiscrewhandled it.” I say, emphasizing the word with my attitude.

“His crew? God this is all so weird.” She starts pacing again, hands still on her hips.

“I know.” I look down, unable to fight the urge to pick at my fingers again.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight? I can have one of the on call’s take my shift.” He said he’d be back tonight. I don’t want her there and potentially piss him off.

“No, it’s okay. I think I just need time to process.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone withDamien.” She says his name with an off tone. She may be scared to leave me alone with him, but I'm not near as scared as she is. If he wanted to hurt me or kill me he’s had every chance, but he didn’t, and while this game might turn out ugly in the end, it certainly isn’t to that point yet. Maybe he is just toying with me, wanting to wind me up before killing me, but that assumption doesn’t feel right.

“I know I'm going to sound crazy…”

“Then don’t say it! I know what you're going to say, and he will fucking hurt you, Ashia! He killed someone! He’s stalking you! Don’t twist it into anything else, please!” Her pleas are desperate, and accurate. Why can’t I see this situation like she does? Why does my sense of curiosity out weigh the danger?

“Okay.” I say as she looks at me angrily.

“You're really not going to let me call the police?” I ponder a moment. Yes, he did murder Cooper, but he fucking deserved it. I know he kills people every week, if not every day from what Tony tells me. However, it seems like he does it for good. He’s not a serial killer. Well, not in the normal sense at least. He doesn’t pick random, helpless victims.

Yes, he invaded my privacy and most likely broke into my home, but it really seems like he feels something for me. Desire and lust at the least, or he seems to think he does.

“Please don’t.” I quietly beg her. She crosses her arms and huffs, showing her defiance against my wishes. “He protected me, Ser. Saved my life. There has to be more to him than just being a random stalker. There has to be. Right?” Her look softens, and it’s like she understands my twisted mind. Just like she always has.

Like when we were kids, and I made her jump the fence to the playground at the school. It wasn’t for fun, I wanted to make sure she could jump the fence at my parents house incase she ever needed to. Or whenever we were teens, and I had to pawn some things every now and then to get money for groceries, I made sure to take her to the ‘only legal pawn shop in town’ so incase she ever needed to go, she wouldn’t trust the others that had stolen my money before. She even tried to smoke cigarettes once, and I told her not to inhale them because her lungs could catch fire. Poor thing believed me, but it kept her from getting addicted to them.

We were all we had growing up. No one wanted their daughters to be friends with the town druggies kid, and all of the cute popular girls like Ser were vindictive little bitches. We took care of each other, always have, even with how different we were. I know she means well, but I need her to trust me, even when I don’t trust myself. She retracts her gaze on me, looking around the room in contemplation, and then goes to walk out. My body sinks in defeat.

“Where are you going?”

“To get Dr. Addler. If you're going to keep fucking John Hinkley, you need birth control.” She slams the door on her way out, but then pokes her head back in and huffs aggravatingly. “So, when you say he’sbig…” The corner of my mouth curls at our friendship, and just as I’m about to tell her more, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Ser steps back into the room for a moment, and as I look down at my phone I see that the notification is from the hospital’s main app. I use it every month to pay on the mountain of bills that I owe the hospital, and of course it’s already notifying me of a change to my account when I haven’t even left yet.

“Jesus, Ser. You couldn’t have waited to put anything into my patient file?” I say, huffing out a laugh and joking.

“I haven’t put anything in yet. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was going to.” She looks at me, her brow arched in confusion, and I feel as my face falters. Now also laced with uncertainty. I click the notification to pull up my account, and an alarming, unfamiliar picture pops up first thing. A large green checkmark that takes up almost the entire screen. The caption just below it reads, ‘Thank you for your payment! You’re all caught up!’

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