Page 212 of House of Cards

All I can do is stare at the raving lunatic taking slow, measured steps closer to me like I’m waiting for subtitles to appear so I can understand what the fuck he’s saying.

“What, you think I’d let you off the hook becausemami?2got dicked to death? First Franco, then his bitch. Both spat in our faces. That debt will be settled when the last Marconi goes up in flames.”

Snick.

Hiss.

This time, he doesn’t extinguish it, just raises the Zippo until it’s level with my eyes. Until I have no choice but to stare at the dancing flame.

White noise spills into my ears.

He’s not the crazy one.

It’s me.

I’m hallucinating him. The awful fucking words coming out of his mouth.

Everything.

Fuck…what if this is all just some ridiculously long nightmare, and I’m about to wake up in my crappy apartment,groggy from too little sleep, eyes scratchy from the mascara I never washed out, hair still reeking of fryer oil?

“What…? I don’t under—“ I croak.

Elonzo narrows his eyes, tapping at his chin as he steps closer. He’s almost in arm’s reach, and I’m still rooted to the spot, concrete dread encasing my entire lower half.

“What was her name…?”

Audrey. That was my mother’s name. Audrey Dennen. She never took my step-father’s name, because they never married, and thank fuck because he just up and abandoned us all one day, didn’t even tell us where he was going, and Elonzo doesn’t know any of this, because Elonzo’s just some cartel thug that Ricky owes money.

Elonzo closes the gap.

He has a few inches on me. Not as much as Smith, but enough that my head tilts back to maintain eye contact.

His fingers brush against my hoodie, barely two inches above my nipple. I can feel the heat from the lighter when he brings it closer, like he’s trying to see deep into my eyes with the flame.

“Wore a little badge just like yours,” he says. “Smelled like you too.”

He sniffs the air. “Not anymore.”

His bark of a laugh makes my entire body jerk with shock. “Whatthe fuckwas her name?”

I blink up at him, entranced. But my lizard brain is still active. It’s still trying to keep me alive. It has control of my arm, and it’s moving it ever so slowly, inching my hand into my hoodie’s pouch. I feel the warmth of the fabric, the slightly tacky knife handle, the weight of the blade.

Elonzo clicks his fingers, making my eyelashes tremble at the unexpected sound.

“Audrey.” He walks his fingers up my hoodie, running his thumb over the column of my throat as he waves the lighter leftand right in front of my face. “Stubborn bitch. We made sure no one bothered her, and she goes and calls the cops on us.”

Elonzo bops my nose. “What’s the golden rule, Zoey?”

“No cops,” I mumble through numb lips.

“See? Not that hard, is it?”

My hand slides out of the pouch. I can see the blade in my peripheral vision, but it still feels like someone else is controlling my arm. Keeping my fingers wrapped tight around the hilt, my arm dangling innocently at my side.

“You know what makes me sad?” Elonzo tilts his head, giving me a dramatically sympathetic pout. “Your boyfriends are coming back soon. No time for fun.”

“Oh no,” I say woodenly.

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