Page 21 of A Very Killer Christmas
He has a knife.
I try to scream for help, but only silence pours out of my open mouth. The air grows thick, thicker than water, and even when I manage to free my legs from the muck, I can’t run any longer. It’s like moving through a paralyzing, blinding soup. It floods my lungs with every breath.
There’s a voice behind me, cruel and mocking, and I try to breathe but can’t, and he’s closer, and it feels like I’ll die from terror, but no, he’ll kill me first, his hands are on me now…
“Baby, wake up. Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. It was just a nightmare.”
I sit up with a muffled scream, eyes wide open, mouth panting. It takes me a moment to orient myself. I’m in bed, the sheets are tangled around my legs, and my body is drenched in sweat. I breathe hard and fast. My lungs burn.
The small nightlight in the corner fills the room with a muted golden glow. It’s not pitch black anymore. I can see. I can move.
“You’re okay,” he says, his hand gently stroking my hair. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
I look at Rowley, who has one knee propped on the edge of my mattress as he leans over me, his face serious and filled with concern.
“It was a nightmare. You were chasing me with a knife,” I tell him, but it’s not an accusation. I think my brain is simply processing everything that happened yesterday, andthat’snot his fault.
He freezes, not even his eyes moving. We stare at each other. The glow of my nightlight makes the contours of his face soft and dreamy. As my heart calms down, I realize I’m not scared anymore. Just… curious.
I’m in bed. His hand is still in my hair, and he towers over me. My face is turned up and open, and the air warms with a vague sort of possibility.
But the moment passes. His hand slides off my head, his knee off my bed. He kneels on the floor, and now he has to look up at me. His eyes are dark. I stare, confused and a bit appalled.
I know only one context in which a man kneels in front of a woman, and it’s clearly not it.
“What are you…?”
“I’ll always regret that I threatened you,” he says, voice quiet and strained with barely contained emotion. “I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day, and I promise to do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know what else to say. I stare at him until I realize my mouth hangs open, so I close it. He doesn’t make a move to stand, watching me patiently. I sort of shrug. I have no idea what to do with his overkill apology.
No one has ever apologized to me so seriously, like it really mattered. It’s… not unpleasant, just unfamiliar.
“I mean… It’s not like you really hurt me…” I begin, but then shake my head as anger pulses in my gut. What am I saying? He broke into my house, ordered me around, and threatened tokillme.
I’m a people-pleaser of a horrific magnitude, but even I have limits. My voice is low with barely contained fury as I stare at the man who I was sure would murder me.
“You know what, you’re right. You should apologize. How dare you hold a knife to my throat? How dare you threaten me?”
He nods. “I had no right. You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry, Prudy. If you only let me, I’ll make it right.”
My anger subsides to a low burn, satisfied when he makes no excuses. I cock my head to the side. “How exactly do you want to fix it, though?”
Because I can’t imagine how a person could even try to undo what he did.
He smiles, eyes glowing with determination.
“I’ll take care of you in any and every way you need. I’ll cook for you, do your laundry, massage your shoulders when they hurt. I’ll be your servant, Prudy. And I’ll do it all with a smile on my face. You know why?”
I shake my head, bewildered. My cheeks are hot, and my stomach fills with a light, tingling flutter. He can’t be real, can he? This isn’t happening.
“Because I’ll enjoy every second of it,” he says with a pleased, triumphant smile. “I don’t care whether you believe in soulmates or not, because I believe for us both. You’re it, baby. You’re my destiny.”
I blink, taking him in. He sounds surreal. For the second time since I met him, I wonder if he’s a character from one of my games. Maybe I’ve really gone over the bend.
“And I did it again,” he says, shaking his head with regret. “Look, I’m trying super hard to be careful, but it’s against my nature. I always go all in once I have a goal. That means I will woo you with everything I’ve got: my best cooking, attentive sex,hourly displays of affection, doing all the chores, frequent love confessions, and whatever else I come up with. I can’t help it. That’s how I’m made.”
