Page 161 of Unwritten Rules

My second dead body was the man I interrogated and ultimately killed by proxy. He was inmycompany, and he betrayedme, mydeadmother, andmycompany. The sound of the knife stabbing into his leg echoed on repeat like a busted record. Brent tried to save me from the sight of him in the sheet, but I looked at him nonetheless. Asphyxiated, he turned blue underneath the clear sheet. They didn’t hide him well enough from me.

The toilet bowl was my only solace at night. The cold porcelain kept me numb enough while I dry heaved again and again.

The knocks on the bathroom door didn’t even bother me anymore.

Knock, knock. “You’ve been in there for twelve hours. You have to come out at some point—even for some water.”

He was right. I looked at my empty water bottle that I hadn’t bothered to refill. Instead, I locked myself in overnight and took what sleep the bathroom floor would give me. It wasn’t much, but I’d take what I could get.

Knock, knock.“Are you even alive in there?”

I heard faint whispering behind the door, and someone fiddled with the doorknob. The lock wasn’t an impossible task to pick. The key was even above the door frame. They probably didn’t want to bother me until morning.

When I didn’t come out, they started knocking.

A new, twisted part of myself wondered if they thought I killed myself in here.

What would they do if I did?

The door opened, I didn’t turn to see who came in. It wasn’t Kelly—she had been gone for a while, and we all knew why. All my texts were unread and unanswered. What I wanted to know was why and what was going on with her. I saw the suspicion on everyone’s face when she was brought up or when they knew I was awaiting a call or text from her.

There were only four regular people that frequented my house: Dave, Brent, Reaper, and James. None of them knew what to do with me, how to help me cope, or come to terms with my new reality.

I thought fighting dirty business was the worst of it, but I felt like I was dealing with some secret society. In a sense, I was. I never knew about the international black market trade deals or how close to home they were.

“She’s alive,” Reaper announced.

I looked at him from the floor in a fetal position. Must have been a sight to behold.

“Two more rats are gone. You can stop throwing up now.” He left the bathroom, muttering about how it was a bad idea to involve me to Brent.

Dave concurred in the hallway.

They’d been hardened from their years working like this. It made me scared that I would end up that way.

What I’d give to have things like they were a few short months ago.

“Blondie, have you showered yet?”

I didn’t respond.

Instead of antagonizing me again, he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He knelt down and slowly stroked my hair.

“Can I run you a bath?”

No words would form for me to accept or decline. The water was turned on and the rushing of water sounded like a waterfall escape.

He left and came back with items I’d need for bathing. Along with bath salts and a candle—I assumed for calming me.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Two hands scooped me up off the ground and I was cradled to Brent’s chest. His heartbeat was an even, calming tempo. He placed a kiss on my head as he sat me down on the edge of the tub.

Silently, he stripped me out of my clothes and kissed each of my shoulders before helping me into the warm water.

I looked around and noticed he added bubbles.

He carefully placed a candle in the corner of the tub and lit it. The flame flickered alive, it was one of my favorite candles I bought multiples of and hid them in my closet. Water rushed over my hair as I sat there holding my knees to my chest.

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