Page 8 of Twisted Ties

I think of the rest of her too. Small yet strong. Soft yet hard.

I pocket the knife and gaze up to the window.

I should be heading back to Lowsky. He’s expecting me. Expecting to hear I’ve killed the girl.

But I’m lingering in the city. I can’t help myself. I can’t help but stand and look up at that window. Behind the glass I can see the dark figure of the Enforcer and somewhere in that room she’s there too.

Fuck, I can feel it in my stomach. I know she’s there.

I click the knuckles of my right hand, then the knuckles of my left, all the time my eyes locked on that window. The Enforcer is pacing. He’s been pacing like that for two days. Does that mean she’s hurt, dying?

I catch myself frowning.

I touch my fingers to my brow and tilt my head. Puzzling.

Dying is what I want. Dying is mission complete. Return to Lowsky and learn who the next victim to face their fate is,the next person to have crossed paths with Lowsky and the Wolves of Night.

But I don’t think dying is what I want. My eyes fall down to my stomach. Curious …

The professor – the one who had fought me alongside the Enforcer, the one who came for me a second time, the one who said he’d kill me for attacking the girl – has only come to the clinic once. And then only for a brief amount of time.

I peer up at the window, watch as the man in black moves away from the glass.

He hasn’t left her side.

What is his interest in the girl? What is the professor’s?

An unregistered, hiding out in the wastelands. Nothing extraordinary about her.

Except …

I peer down at my stomach a second time.

If he leaves, I’ll make my way to her room.

Not to hurt her. To pet her. To stroke that soft hair of hers. To suck in her sweet scent. Would she let me? Or would she scream and fight me again?

I smile. I like the way she screams. Like music. I can hear it in my mind. It makes me hard.

Curious again.

My eyes lower to the road and I watch as a car parks up and an elderly man climbs out, a bunch of daisies in his hands. A gift for some patient.

A gift. I liked sending my little rabbit gifts. Liked the idea it frightened her, had her shivering with fear, shaking on the soles of her feet.

I want to get her another gift. Not to frighten her. To remind her I’m thinking of her. To ensure she’s thinking ofme. To reassure her, we’ll be together – her and me. It’s meant to be.

The man reaches the clinic doors and they slide open.

Flowers.

I scoff.

I’m not gifting her flowers.

I’m going to give her a piece of me.

A lock of my hair?