Page 23 of Cerulean Truth
That was more than I could handle. I raised my hand to stop her from talking. If she’d finished that sentence, I would've killed the guy right there and then.
I had to remind myself to keep breathing.
“Go home,” I ordered, grinding my teeth. “I will handle this. I will find you after. Talk to no one. Go. Now!”
She swallowed and nodded quickly, grabbed her purse, and ran out without turning back.
I was left alone in the room with the lowest form of human life.
SEVEN
EMMA
I ran home. The cab I’d arranged through the bartender earlier never arrived, and I didn't want to wait for another. So, I ran.
I ran as fast as I could, as if I were fleeing from the cops. No, not the cops. Godzilla. And Voldemort. A joint effort by Godzilla and Voldemort, in full nightmarish pursuit, with the intent of a threesome.
And the devil. Serving as an audience member and cameraman. Obviously.
Whatever, to hell with thepornymetaphors—I sprinted home like a maniac.
I had no clue what was going to happen. What would James do to the guy? Would he help him, fix him up, wipe his memory, or resort to something more severe? Like killing him and disposing of the body?
Was James coming to my home afterward? Or would he show up the following day?
I ran the entire way home, consumed by thoughts of Kevin and James. Halfway there, I suddenly realized my clothes were completely drenched in blood. If anyone would’ve seen me in that state, I could have faced serious legal consequences…"My goodness, Emma," I muttered to myself angrily, "you camedangerously close to taking another person's life this evening. There must be deeper consequences to contemplate beyond the mere legal implications of this."
When I finally arrived home, I hurried inside and secured the doors behind me with every lock available. Exhausted, I leaned my head against the front door, trying to catch my breath.
My trembling hands were still covered in the crimson proof of my actions and as I tried to sweep the hair out of my face, the pungent smell of it hit my senses, triggering another attack of hyperventilation.
I closed my eyes. I had. To calm. Down.
Inhaling deeply, I decided I needed to shower straight away. My body was drenched with sweat from running like a maniac, tears were still flowing freely, and I was dripping blood everywhere. I threw my bloody clothing in the trash and took out some fresh towels. In a matter of moments, the comforting embrace of hot water began cleansing away the horrible remnants of the night.
I cried the entire shower. I never cried so much in my life as I did that night. The sight of all that blood. How was I ever going to get that image out of my head? Every time I closed my eyes, the horrifying scene from the ladies’ room re-emerged.
James had come to my rescue. I tried to focus on him. Strangely enough, thinking about James had a somewhat calming effect on me. It was surprising, considering his previous death threats, but his presence in the blood-spattered bathroom had provided a sense of comfort I hadn't anticipated.
After what felt like an eternity, I turned off the water and reached for a towel.
As I stepped out of the shower, I took a long, hard look in the mirror, but the reflection staring back at me was the one of a stranger. How had I arrived at this point? I had been an ordinarygirl with a promising legal career and a bright future ahead, but now who was I? Who had I become? What was I to become?
I had no idea how I would manage to get any sleep and fervently wished for some painkillers still lying around from my accident.
Exiting the bathroom, towel clutched around me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. James was sitting on my bed. A startled gasp escaped me, my heart leaping as I staggered back, the breath catching in my throat.
“Dude, seriously? Ever heard of knocking?”
He stared me with a strange expression and then casually tossed me some clothes that had been resting on my bed.
"Get dressed," he ordered, a faint hint of a smile gracing his lips. “I don’t feel like ending up bleeding on the bathroom floor.”
I stared at him without blinking, utterly dumbfounded. Never mind the fact I had almost taken someone's life, James Walker cracked a joke? Was it even a joke? A painful and horribly ill-timed one, but nonetheless, a joke?
Hastily retrieving the clothes he’d thrown me, I returned to the bathroom, relieved I’d laid out my good sweats. “Really? Now you’re concerned with how you look?” I muttered to myself, feeling another huge disappointment in my own character, but it passed more quickly than it should have.
I re-entered the bedroom, finding James still sitting on the bed. He silently beckoned me to join him with a subtle nod of his head, and an all-conveying stare which transported me back to my childhood—back to school, where I was about to be scolded by the principal. For murder.
