Page 34 of Peripheral Vision

“I’m okay, really. I ca?—”

She cuts me off. “Listen, this is one of our least busy nights, you’re scheduled through Saturday, it’s fine. We got this. Go home,get some sleep, and get your head screwed on straight.” I glance over at Callum without meaning to, but he isn’t paying attention. He’s busy with another group at the other end of the bar. Maybe he’s as done with this night as I am. A part of me wants to argue with her, but she has just as much authority over me as Callum does and I would rather hear this from her than him.

“Thanks.” I stand up with the pieces I’ve collected into my hand before dumping them into the trash.

She nods. “Feel better, okay?”

I mumble an agreement, leaving the bar and going back to the office to get my things before slipping out the back door without another word. The night air is cool and sharp, the slight breeze nipping at my skin below my thin jacket. I lean back against the brick wall, nearly in the same place I spoke with Fletcher before I knew it was him, and just breathe in the night air. For a moment I just let myself be. The only noise is that which is filtering from inside the bar and from vehicles beyond. I can only hope that the ache, the weight that has settled in my chest, will resolve when I get home. But as I push off the wall and start toward my car around the front of the building, I hear the door crack open behind me.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me.” Callum’s voice is low and uncertain.

I stop but I don’t turn around. “You know that isn’t true.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Some of the things I thought I knew turned out not to be true.” His voice turns clipped, the frustration lingering.

“Okay, so what do you want?” It sounds harsher than I intend for it to, and I almost turn around to apologize, but not before he responds.

“I just—I wanted to tell you to be careful. And that I’m sorry.” I’m about to ask him what he means, why he’s the one apologizing when I’m the one who did this, but I hear the door close again. When I turn around, he’s gone. I could text him, ask him what he meant, but I think words are better left unsaid between us at this point.

The ride home feels longer than usual, the streets stretching outendlessly under the dim glow of the streetlights. I park outside of my house and sit there for a while, dreading going inside and being alone because I know that my thoughts will continue to haunt me even there. But I have nowhere else to go. Not unless I want to make the five-hour drive back to Norfolk in the middle of the night. With a sigh, I cut the engine. The truck door feels heavier when I push it open, like it’s trying to keep me inside its secluded and suffocating solitude.

The house is dark when I enter, save for the glow of the porch light as I close the door. I flip on the overhead in the living room, and it feels too bright. Alaska lifts her head from her bed as if in agreement. I drop my bag by the door before locking it and walk to the kitchen, opening the fridge as though I’m going to eat. I’m not. So instead, I fill a cup with water and stare out the sliding glass door into the darkness. It seems to match what’s going on in my head. A suffocating ink that has been spilled over the pages of my life, leaving no room to decipher their meaning.

The phone in my pocket buzzes, and I flinch. My heart speeds up as I pull it out—will it be Callum or an ominous message from Fletcher? As I unlock my screen, it’s just a notification. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. I lock the phone again and set it down with a sigh. If there is one thing I do feel, it’s the sensation of something crawling underneath my skin. Before I have a chance to overthink it, I say bye to Alaska again and step out into the awaiting darkness. Cold air slaps me in the face, wrapping me in an embrace like an unfeeling touch, but I don’t care. I just need to move, to breathe, tobe. Nature is grounding in a way that slows you down, like a deep breath in the middle of a storm. The chaos of life becomes insignificant as it reminds you that there is an order to things, so I allow it to lead me where it will tonight. I’m not sure how long I walk for, but when I finally calm down enough to open my senses, I realize I’ve wandered far into the woods beyond my house. The moon is high in the sky, barely reaching beyond the thickness of the trees. I reach into my pocket to check the time, but I forgot I left my phoneon the counter. I don’t think I got turned around while I’ve been in here, I’m fairly positive I’ve walked in a straight line, so I turn around and start to make my way back.

I don’t make it more than a few steps before I hear the steady crunch of leaves a few paces away.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

DYLAN

The sound stops me dead in my tracks as I listen for any further movement. The dim light through the trees is barely enough to illuminate my surroundings. For a few moments, only silence greets me, but then from the shadows a hooded figure emerges, blocking my path. At first I think it’s Fletcher, but the build isn’t right. This person is too short, too thin to match the dominating presence of my stranger. Callum? Maybe—but he should still be at work, I can’t imagine it's past two a.m. yet, but I could be wrong.

I square my shoulders before steadying my voice. “Who are you? Why are you out here?”

The figure tilts their head slightly, as if considering my question, and then they step closer. Their shadow is cast across the ground between the gaps in the trees above, casting brief glimpses of their face beneath the hood. But I don’t know this person. “Out here? That’s quite the question, and unfortunately the wrong one, as someone could ask you the same. You should be at home at this hour, it's not safe.”

I take a step back, my stomach tightening with unease at the threat in his tone. “I asked first.”

Chuckling, the figure takes another measured step toward me and instinctively I reach for my phone, only to realize once again, I don’t have it. “Let’s just say I’m someone with… a vested interest in you. Although they didn’t tell me you would be quite so pretty.”

My pulse spikes, nausea swirling in my gut.Run,my mind screams at me, but I can’t move. The danger in this individual is very real and very threatening, the opposite to what I feel about Fletcher. “Wha-what does that mean?”

“It means,” they say as they continue to close the distance between us, “that you’ve caught someone’s eye. Someone willing to pay a lot for you.”

The words hit me like a slap, keeping me frozen at the sheer weight of their implication. This isn’t random. This is deliberate. “You’re joking,” I manage to choke out.

The figure chuckles darkly. “Oh, I don’t joke about business.” Their hand dips into their pocket and the glint of something metallic catches the faint light, but I can’t make out what it is. “And tonight, darlin,youare business.”

This time when my mind tells me to run, I listen. I pivot sharply, running back in the opposite direction. My feet slap against the forest floor, the sound of theirs not too far behind me as I push myself to move faster than I ever thought possible. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!” they shout, their voice laced with frustration and amusement. But I don’t look back, continuing my passage through the woods, unsure when I will come out on the other side, orifI will come out on the other side. How could I have been so stupid to come out here by myself this time of night with no connection to the outside world? With no way to call for help? Without knowing the layout of the forest? I veer to the right, narrowly missing a fallen tree, but not noticing the additional branches that layer the ground before they trip me and I fall to my knees. I’m just getting back to my feet when the figure tackles me from behind, holding my front to the hard ground. I thrash wildly, screaming—trying anything to dislodge them from their advantage.

“Feisty. I like that. But I told you not to make this harder on yourself because it only makesmeharder.” Whoever he is grinds his obvious erection into my backside and I have to fight the vomit threatening to rise. “I don’t think the boss will mind me testing the product…” My eyes widen in fear and I continue to try to get him off of me, but it’s no use when he grabs my hair and wrenches my head back, holding up the object he had pulled from his pocket earlier to my neck. “Stop. Moving.” The sharp bite of the knife digs into my skin and I can feel a slight trickle of blood leaving me no choice but to listen. “Attagirl... now if you behave, I might promise to only use one hole before we take you… home. Boss wouldn’t like it if I dug into the prize too much before he got his fair share. He made it very clear he wants to be the one to break you in.” A tear rolls down my cheek.This cannot be happening.

He lets go of my hair, keeping the knife angled at my neck as he starts to run his hand down my back and over my ass, before cupping me over my most vulnerable spot. He toys with me there for a few moments before I find the courage to snap my head back, trying to dislodge him in his distracted state, but it only results in pissing him off. He grabs the back of my head, removing his knife, and slams it into the ground, causing me to see stars before rolling me over to where he’s straddling my front. “I was going to be kind and ensure you didn’t have to watch me take what you obviously aren’t giving away, but now I think I want you to remember my face as I fuck you to tears. God knows I want to remember how I made two parts of you weep.” My eyes are still blurry as they try to focus on his face, and I feel the knife once again pushed against my throat, this time more secure so that if I do move, it’ll undoubtedly nick me. “You can scream too, if you want. Nobody will hear you out here.”

I hear the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle before it comes free and he shifts down my body, shoving his hand down the front of my pants, violating me. I try to clench my legs to prevent him from gaining access to me, but he digs the knife in, causing more blood to spill. “I would hate to make a mess out of you. Boss won’t behappy that you’re bleeding, and I would hate to blame it on you. So. Sit. Still,” he grits out, before forcing my legs apart and shoving two fingers inside of me. I cry out at the invasion, fresh tears now falling in rivers down my face. “Fuck, you’re tight. Boss won’t even know that I took from you because of how tight you are.” He continues to pump his two fingers in and out of me before withdrawing and grabbing my pants, sliding them down my hips. “Look at this…” I can feel him shift even further down, as though to position himself, when suddenly the weight above me is released.

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