Page 42 of Creep
Moving to the desk, I take a seat in the chair. My body sinks into the leather and I groan at how comfortable it is. I could fucking sleep in this thing. Forcing myself to get up, I began yanking on drawers. None of them are locked, and I began sifting through papers, careful to put everything back exactly as I found it. I have a feeling Vincent is one of those people who would notice something like that and I don’t need him questioning anything.
Once I reach the bottom drawer, I pull it open and find only a single manilla envelope. Carefully pulling the top tab open, I grip the papers and pull them out slowly. I run my eyes over the top, but the only thing the top paper says is the name Vincent Lee Anthony in big bold letters. With my curiosity piqued, I meticulously place the paper on the desk before looking back at the stack in my hand. The next has a bunch of numbers scribbled here and there. Which is what I assume to be bank numbers and money transfers, but I wouldn’t have a clue. I’ve never seen a bank statement in my entire life.
But I do know what a balance of something looks like and from the looks of this, it seems to be many money transfers into an offshore account with the account holder name being Vincent Lee Anthony. Transfers of money from at least two hundred thousand dollars and up. My eyes bulge out of my fucking head the further down the paper I get. And it continues. I flip throughsixpieces of paper before I reach the last one. The last page has an ending account balance on it and when my eyes land on the number, the paper falls to the floor.
I scramble to pick it up, somehow managing to keep my wits about enough to gather them all and rush to the printer. Paranoid out of my mind, I keep skirting my eyes all over the place, terrified I’m going to be caught. I’m wary not to mess with the papers too much as I make a copy of each one. After they all print, I slide the original papers back into the envelope and put it back in the drawer.
I rush from the room and shut the door behind me. I turn the knob and push against it to be sure it's locked and then make a mad dash to my room. I pull my bed out from the wall enough to squeeze myself in. I roll the papers into the tiniest roll I can manage and shove them into the gap behind the headboard. I never would’ve noticed it if I weren’t tied to my fucking bed for an entire day.
I quickly push my bed back and then flop on top of it. My heart is still racing and I place my hand over my chest to feel it. A grin cracks across my face as I begin to feel elated.
I fucking did it.
I found something I can use against this motherfucker.
I can finally be free.
I crawl into bed as the music blaring through the house continues. The song playing now is “Fragile Minds” by Silent Theory and that’s the last thing I think about before I shut my eyes, the taste of freedom resting on the tip of my tongue.
19
Vincent
Unease has eatenat me all day long. I left Essa to roam free today when I left the house, something I never planned on doing, but I know she won’t be able to step foot outside of the house or even open the fucking door. I have a security system in place I’ve been using. I never had much use for it before, but now I’m glad I have it.
Last night when she brought up she was tired of being locked up and reminded me she’s been good, I thought about it. She has been good ever since I threatened to kill her.
I told her yesterday I have cameras in every room of the house, but that was a straight up fucking lie. I don’t have a single camera, only because, like the security system, I never needed them. I live in the middle of nowhere and no one even knows where I live—aside from Leo. I hope she believes me and keeps her ass in line.
I’ve been sitting at the fucking pub all goddamn day, wasting time waiting for Leo to get back from a run. He went with the usual crew to make sure things run smoothly with this new supplier. I offered to go with because I need something to fucking do, but of course he brushed me off and told me to hang out at the pub and relax. As if I need any more fucking downtime.
So here I am, on my fifth fucking bourbon and it’s only two p.m. I’m attempting to drown my sorrows, but much to my fucking luck, it’s not working. My mind keeps racing, Essa consuming every thought I have and it’s driving me insane. I’ve only known her for two fucking months.Two months.And yet somehow in that miniscule timeframe, she’s managed to crawl under my skin. I knew from the very beginning she was different, but this is something else entirely.
Whenever I’m away from her, at work, getting groceries, hell even outside doing fucking yardwork,I miss her. I fucking miss her and it’s eating me alive. I’ve never felt like this towards anyone in my entire life. Not even my own mother. But Essa? Fuck, I’m a goner. My blood aches for hers. My nonexistent soul rises from the deepest depths inside of me, crawling back into the light. My fucking monster now goes into hiding, only coming out to play when I allow him to.
Everything has done a complete one eighty and I’m still dizzy.
I’ve been struggling with how to handle my situation with her because it’s not exactly ideal. I love it, but I also know I can’t keep her ass locked in my house forever. Furthermore, I don’t want her to leave. I need to come up with some sort of plan as soon as possible.
Slamming back the rest of my drink, I lean my back against the counter of the pub. I rest my arms behind me and glance around the very same pub that saved my fucking life. Well, not the place itself but the man who owns it. I’ve come to find this place a comfort to me. It was a safe place when nothing in my life was remotely that way and still to this day I am forever grateful to Leo. I owe him my fucking life, therefore I do everything in my power to make his easier in every way. Hence why I take jobs he no longer wants to do. Not that I mind. He knows I enjoy it.
For a Thursday afternoon, it’s pretty busy. Almost every booth is full and there are a few people scattered amongst the stools along the bar. About three years ago, Leo decided to build on to his rundown pub and set up a kitchen while also remodeling the place a bit. It took about a year, but it’s been up and running for two years now and busier than ever. Now that it doesn’t look like a shit hole, many people stop by and even bring their families. The food may be greasy pub food, but it’s fucking good, nonetheless.
I turn around and signal to Andy, the bartender, to get me another drink and also a burger with fries. I haven’t eaten anything since the dinner Essa made the night before. She made this chicken pasta shit with broccoli or whatever the fuck. I have no idea what she called it, but it was delicious. My stomach rumbles when I think about it and Andy sets my refilled glass back in front of me.
I’m not exactly drunk, but I’m not sober either. My head feels light and my body sways slightly on the stool. I should probably slow down before I wind up too drunk to drive. I toss back the shot and push the glass away, shaking my head at Andy as he goes to refill it.
“No man, I’m good.”
“You sure? You don’t look too good.”
I rub the back of my neck as I contemplate my answer. I’m not exactly close with the kid, but he wouldn’t be here if Leo didn’t trust him. Deciding to go with my gut, I get a few things off my chest.
“I’m not. I’ve got this bitch back home I picked up a few months ago and fuck man. She’s under my skin and it’s eating me alive.” I keep my gaze locked on the slightly sticky counter below and rub my neck again. I have a fucking headache from all of this goddamn thinking—the alcohol doing the exact opposite of helping.
Andy whistles before grabbing the rag and wiping down the counters—not that it helps, they’re always sticky.
“Damn man. What the fuck? You’re the fucking Monster dude—that’s what they all call you anyway. Ruthless, merciless, fucking cold. And you’re telling me some girl has gotten under your skin? I need to write this down, let me grab my pen.”
