Page 49 of Redd

Chapter Nine

Bijou

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Redd didn't ask meany more questions. He stewed.

Pacing the trailer, he walked up and down the hall, stepping through the living room and into the kitchen. He'd circle the table, then follow the same path back, all while he scratched his head, mumbling to himself, and moving his hands through the air.

I let him stalk by me, moving my feet out of the way and lifting them up onto the couch. I didn't dare say another word about Diablo or the danger we were both in. I had said enough, obviously from the stark expression on his face, I made my point.

Finishing my sandwich, I folded up the napkin and wiped my lips. Redd made his third pass by me and I took the opportunity to ask for something to drink. “Can I have some water?”

“Yeah,” he said, waving his hand towards the kitchen. “Help yourself.” His response was short, barely a conscious thought as he spoke. I felt like I could have asked for anything right then and he would have agreed.

He's going to drive himself crazy tying to figure this out.

Stepping over a fallen picture, I glanced down, and was met by the colored kitten smiling up at me. Bending, I picked it up, shaking off small bits of glass. In the very bottom corner, hidden when it was behind the frame, was a blocky signature.

Victoria.

I shouldn't have said anything about his sister being targeted too. I freaked him out.

No. He wanted to know, I told him the truth. Not saying it would have been worse.

Placing it on the end table by the door, I softly dragged my hand over the messy wax strokes. I felt bad about what I had done to his home. I had torn it apart, not thinking about what it was or who it belonged to.

But I had panicked, completely losing myself in a flurry of agitation. It was like a tsunami had hit me full force, turning my head upside down and pulling the rug out from beneath my feet.

I didn't think about anything but my father.

Walking into the kitchen, my heel stung and ached. Holding the counter, I lifted a foot off the floor and looked at the bottom. Small slits in the skin were slightly swollen and red, surrounded by dried blood.

Using my finger, I ran it gingerly over the cuts, checking for broken glass. They seemed clear of any shards, no sudden surge of pain or sharp edge was felt.

Picking up a cup off the counter, I filled it with cold water from the sink. The liquid quenched my dry throat, and all I wanted to do was stick my face under the faucet and let it fill my stomach.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a full glass of water or the freedom to use a sink. Drinking two tall glasses, I looked around at the mess I had caused. In my moment of hysteria, I only had one thing on my mind—find the phone.

At the time, it seemed like the right choice, to tear the place apart and find a way to contact the outside world. But now, I felt ashamed for my reaction.

Diablo was still out there and Redd was right, I didn't know if my father was alive or dead. I couldn't let myself fall prey to fucking my own mind. I had to be strong, I had to stay focused until this was all over.

Will this ever really be over?

I wasn't sure if my brain could ever let it go. There would be nightmares, there would be moments of regression and trepidation. Nothing would change, I would never be able to heal. . . Unless he was gone completely.

I have to end it.

I have to finish him.

Picking up a box of cereal and a few packages of noodles, I started cleaning up the kitchen. His sister would be coming home from school at some point and I couldn't let her walk in and see this mess.

I was a guest in their home, and I wanted to stay that way—I needed to stay that way.Because right then, I had no place else to go.

“What are you doing?” he asked, startling me, and causing me to drop the noodles from my hand.

I hadn't heard him walk over, lost inside my own mind and thoughts. “I'm cleaning up, what does it look like?”