Page 53 of Archer
I didn’t think it was possible, but I had this desire to make her life better. But not in any dramatic or unrealistic way. All I wanted was to either make things more comfortable for her, by giving her a cozy place to live, to read, to be whoever she wanted to be without her dad controlling every move she made. Or, I wanted to be by her side, sharing her experiences with her. I wanted to take her to a pub, or sports games, amusement parks… anywhere she was never allowed to go but wanted to. She was such a beautiful girl, inside and out, but so deprived of experiences.
All I wanted was for her to be happy.
Lowering my face to look at the sand, I leapt off the boulder, deciding to head home. Much to my displeasure, in my route were the horny scorpions still doing their weird mating ritual. Sneering at the desert dwellers doing the deed right in the open, I slumped my shoulders and moped to my bike. Taking one last look at the boulder I had shared my intimate vulnerabilities with, I kicked off and roared down the highway back to town.
Feeling a little better but not really, I prayed Rose would be up and ready to talk by the time I got back. Though, it was past one in the morning. If I knew Rose at all, she’d be pretending to sleep by now.
The midnight air grew colder, the usual layer of fog rolling in, blurring the once vibrant Milky Way. The “Welcome to Mascid” sign was difficult to read due to the haze, creating an eerie feeling as I cruised by it. Sensing a storm rolling in, I sped up, not wanting to have a literal rain cloud following my blue mood.
Turning the corner to my street, I felt myself grow nervous, a steady anxiety building within me. I tried to ignore it, telling myself Rose would be asleep so there was no reason to worry about winning her back that night. When I pulled into my parking lot, I hopped off the bike. Still feeling weighed down, I slumped toward the exit.
Unconsciously, I looked up Rose’s window on the top floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
My body turned to ice.
Rose’s bedroom window was smashed open.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rose
Maybe I was being melodramatic, hugging my knees in the shower, sobbing through the water that was getting colder by the minute. I had been in there for at least forty-five minutes, replaying the whole day in my head.
“I lost my virginity…” I wept into my knees. What made it harder was that losing my virginity wasperfect. Beyond perfect. When Archer told me once that sex wasn’t like the big romantic scenes in the novels I read, he was wrong. It was better. I never thought I would change a single thing about it.
Lying in his arms, giggling, him even making me feel better after I ruined his sheets. “Why?” I cried out shakily, wanting to turn back time.
How did something so perfect end up hurting me so badly? How could I have been so stupid, trusting Archer with the most intimate thing I had in me? It wasn’t like I could get that back. All he was was a selfish, arrogant, jerk who probably just considered me another notch on his bedpost and my dad just another dollar in his wallet.
I should have just followed my initial instinct. He was a bad guy. At least when I was sheltered, I wasn’t filled with heartbreak. This hurt so, so much. Sure, it was the kind of pain I knew I’d recover from, but oh my god. I never wanted to hand out my heart again.
“I really like him…” The words blended in with the water, hardly able to hear them myself. But they held so much truth. It had been true for a long time. Probably ever since we drank together. I was so enamored by his dimples. I remembered in my drunken stupor, repeatedly reminding myself it wasn’t a good idea to kiss people when you’re drinking, because god, I wanted to.
But… he was the sleazeball I always thought he was. He wasn’t doing this to help me or my dad, just to get laid and take some cash. I was such a fool.
There was a clatter in the kitchen, and I felt annoyance and sadness bubble inside me simultaneously. Not even an hour had passed since Archer left and he was already back? Didn’t he have somewhere else to go hang out? After all, he was the one who was allowed to leave and party all night if he so desired.
I turned off the shower and stood still, trying to hear him walking around. Everything was silent, aside from the dripping of the tap. Narrowing my eyes at the door, I shook my head. I must have been hearing things. I wrapped a towel around my hair, squeezing and absorbing as much water as I could before hanging it on the hook. Combing my fingers through my hair, I looked in the mirror and frowned at my puffy eyes. I looked awful.
Well, things with you and Archer are over, so it’s not like it matters.
Nodding in the mirror, I thanked my subconscious for the optimistic thought.
In the kitchen, I heard another noise, like a single step, and my heart stopped. Not wasting anymore time, I pulled on my long flannel pajama pants and baggy sweater, seeking comfort for my heat. I put my hand on the doorknob, prepared to face Archer when I heard what sounded like “Shh.”
That’s not Archer.
I didn’t know how I knew, but I just did. It could have been the wind, but I knew better than that. From the few horror movies that I had seen, I learned that the characters who believed things were the wind wound up dead. I could sense another presence there, not in a weird, ghostly way, but I could just tell. Archer wouldn’t walk like that. He was loud and seemed to stomp his feet everywhere he went or slammed cupboard doors, coughing, opening beer bottles… I always knew immediately when Archer was home.
Mentally kicking myself for leaving my cell phone in my bedroom, I scanned the bathroom for some sort of weapon. The closest thing was a toilet bowl cleaner, which would be gross but not dangerous. Heart thumping, cold sweat dripping down my neck, I tried not to panic, thinking of a plan. That was when I noticed a spray can of bathroom cleaner. On the can, it read “contains bleach” and had multiple warning signs at the bottom.
Good enough.
When I grabbed the doorknob again, I silently prayed that it was really just the wind. I cracked the door open and I hadn’t even completely exited before the intruders made themselves known. A haunting chill crept up my spine and my shoulders slumped when I heard a slimy, unfamiliar voice speak from the kitchen.
“Ah, dammit. She’s dressed.”
Closing my eyes for one second, sighing like I had been defeated, I pulled my head up. Leaving the hand holding the aerosol can hidden behind the door, I turned to them. The lights were turned off, but I could see two silhouettes. One silhouette looked average in size, a little over six feet, and the other looked only a little taller than me, but about twenty pounds less.
