Page 67 of Executing Malice

He doesn’t respond.

He hasn’t made a sound in over an hour. Part of me is relieved. The crying and whimpering only serves to feed the monster. I can almost understand why Dad and Everett loved it so much. It’s satisfying hearing them beg.

Even though I hate it.

I hate this part of myself. I hate that I am capable of this kind of harm, and I don’t hate it at all.

He touched what was mine.

He smiled into her face and walked off with her like he had some kind of right.

Maybe I overreacted.

I’m beginning to think maybe I ... I should have thought it through more clearly. I started to. My brain focused for a heartbeat, but then he put his hand on her back while leading her through the doors of the bakery and...

What was I supposed to do? Let it go? Turn the other cheek? What man would simply sit back and allow that?

Sure, he didn’t know she belongs to me. That’s not his fault. Honestly, none of this was his fault. He was collateral damage in a fucked up game. If anyone is at fault, it’s Leila. She knew exactly what she was doing. She’s pissed at me, so she used this shmuck to test my loyalty. Test to see if I truly would burn the world down for her.

Now, I’m dressed in this nameless man’s blood because she put him in my path.

It’s fine.

Accidents happen.

Every recovery has its bumpy road. I just need to remember my breathing next time.

I push to my feet. The bedsprings jingles faintly with the absence of weight. I brush my palms down my cargos and glance down at the dark figure curled up in a ball across his bedroom floor.

This is why having locks on your doors is so important,I think. If he had locked his doors, I wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t need a cast for his arm or a new face. Lessons were taught and learned today.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. This won’t happen again,” I assure him.

He understandably doesn’t move. Though, I do have to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed for him. Buddy didn’t even try to fight. He dropped to the floor before I even reached him. And that’s the man Leila wants? How does she expect him to protect her? He’d simply show his belly and let something terrible happen to her. I did her a favor.

Not that she’ll see it that way.

I exhale and roll back my shoulders. I reach for the titanium bat buddy kept in the closet I’d been waiting for him in, rub off the blood and return it where I found it. Then, I simply walk out the back door and into the night. Into the trees. Not a soul to spot me.

My feet move with wide, even strides over the winding path cutting through the neatly kept yard with its glass patio set and cute flower garden. I reach the back fence and slip through the latched door the same way I got in.

I take my time walking to Leila’s house. The fresh air and lengthy hike calms some of the fire that had been raging in my chest for most of the afternoon. I want to make sure it’s mostly out before I return to her. While I would never hurt her, I don’t want to lose control by accident, either.

The house is still and silent when I slip in through the back door. Shadows pool across the hallway and dance with a faint halo of gold spilling from the living room doorway. I keep an eye for movement as I unlace my boots and remove them. Both get hooked on my fingers as I creep along the wooden corridor to peek inside.

Leila lies in an unconscious sprawl across a mound of blankets. The firstHalloweenfilm plays on low across the screen. The sight of it tugs on my heartstrings and I find myself watching the scene unfold the way Leila and I used to every Halloween. I even bought aMichael Myer’smask just for her and a rubber knife.That night had awakened something in both of us that I never could shake. We may have been young, but we had seen and done things that would horrify a grown adult.

This being one of them.

It had been raw and dirty, a filthy and depraved game she conjured and I delivered.

Jefferson knows a version of Leila I didn’t grow up with. This sweet bank teller façade is nothing to the little demon I know she is beneath it. Granted, she’s done a really good job hiding her true face, but watchingMyersbutcher his first kill, I know she’s under there still and this proves it.

Silent as a ghost, I set my boots down and pad to where she lies, face lost in her pillow, one leg kicked out and bent at the knee. My gaze flicks to the bottle of wine I laced earlier this afternoon. The empty glass sits next to her makeshift bed.

Thecloverleafas it’s being called on the streets won’t hurt her. It’s a muscle relaxant that doubles as a sleeping aid. The drug was created for people with insomnia due to joint pain, but sicko perverts started buying them to use as a substitute for roofies. I got my baggie from some prick I locked in on, online a year ago. There were rumors going around he was drugging women in clubs. The next time he went out, I was waiting for him. Knocked his teeth down his throat before liberating his stash.

I tossed most of them but kept one pouch of the powder that I emptied in Leila’s wine earlier this afternoon, after her little stunt because some habits never die and Leila likes herMyersand junk food when she’s had a rough day.