Page 6 of Under Your Scars

I’m covered in my comforter and tucked into bed. It takes a while for everything to come rushing back to me, but when it does, my eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I see the Silencer sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall like he’s asleep. A plethora of first aid supplies lay scattered around him; bloody rags, alcohol wipes, and a sewing needle with fishing wire attached.

He’s got a large, nasty gash on his right bicep that he’s haphazardly stitched up himself in a jagged line that will leave him with a scar that only serves to make him appear more dangerous.

I untangle myself from the sheets and throw my legs over the edge of the bed. I brace myself as I experimentally poke his arm with my sock-covered foot. He doesn’t move. I rest my feet firmly on the floor and before I attempt to stand up, I poke him again, this time in the cheek with my index finger. His head sways slightly, but he doesn’t wake up. I sigh a breath of relief and sink to the floor on my hands and knees.

Wait.

What the fuck is happening right now? Am I dead, and this is just some fucked up purgatory?

The serial killer in my apartment tucked me into bed after I passed outandhe made sure to put my socks back on my feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

The hardwood floor digs into my knees and palms. I poke him again with my finger, making my touch a little firmer against his tactical pants. He’s still not moving. He’s either unconscious or he’s one hell of a deep sleeper. Though why he chose to take a nap in my apartment is a question I’ll have to ask myself later.

Before I crawl away from him, I make a decision to grab one of the many pistols he has strapped to his thighs. I’ll be damned if this psycho catches me off guard without a weapon. I quietly check the chamber. It’s already loaded.

Something is stopping me from moving, and I think I know exactly what it is: greed. One of the most notorious serial killers in the United States is unconscious in my apartment, and if I can press that tiny button on the side of his muzzle and give the police an accurate description of him, I could be a million dollars richer. It would be so easy for me to peek. He’d never know.

I bite my lip and my hand is unsteady as I reach a finger towards him to press the lock.

As soon as my finger touches his mask, his eyes fly open and he lunges for me with a growl, grabs my wrists, and flips me onto my back. He’s straddling me, his thick thighs caging my arms down by my sides. He has one hand cupped over my mouth to stop me from screaming, and another hand white knuckling a serrated knife that’s now pressed firmly against my jugular.He uses his boot to kick away the gun that I stole from him.

Tears prick in my eyes as he stares at me, wild and terrifying.

He takes three deep breaths and I see his green eyes soften. He lowers the knife from my throat, placing it back into his thigh sheath, followed by the discarded gun I stole. He’s got so many weapons strapped to his legs I don’t even know how he can move properly. He’s still holding me down with nothing but his body weight and his hand firmly over my mouth.

I watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. “I’m going to let you go. Scream and I’ll tape your mouth shut. Nod if you understand.”

I do.

He hesitates, but he lets me go and lifts himself off me, and I roll over and take in a huge breath of air. He’s standing now, while I’m cowering on the floor, and if he looked big before, he looks massive now.He’s got to be at least six-three, maybe even taller. He’s built like a truck, and I think he could pop a balloon between his pecs.

He looks down at me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Your curiosity almost got you killed.”

I eye him with confusion.Almostgot me killed? That’s actually a terrifying fucking point. Why the hell hasn’t he slit my throat yet?

My cheeks heat up from the intensity of his stare.

“Did you tell anyone I was here?”

I shake my head and finally work up the nerve to stand, scurrying to the kitchen. My apartment is so small that even though he’s by the bed and I’m by the kitchen counter, I could still touch him if I reached out a hand. “No. I can’t even if I wanted to. My phone is broken from Friday night.”

He takes a half-step towards me to close the gap. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll find out, so I’m going to ask you again.Did you tell anyone I was here?” He enunciates each word as if I didn’t hear him the first time, his voice low and gravelly behind that mask.

“No!”

He’s looking at me like he’s plotting my murder.God,why didn’t I just fucking run when I had the chance?

I notice his fingers poised over the guns strapped to his legs.

One wrong move, and I’m dead.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” I ask, letting out a trembling exhale. “Because I’ll fight back.” I grab the taser resting on my kitchen counter. He must have grabbed it from the alley. I turn it on and let it crackle with a charge. He takes a step closer to me until my hips are pressed tightly against the kitchen counter and my only way out is through him.

“You wouldn’t make it a single step.”

I hold out the taser to warn him.

His hands stay at his side, and he steps even closer to me, pressing his chest directly into the teeth of the charged taser. I look up at him, and he doesn’t even blink. Once the charge is finished, and he hasn’t moved, I drop the taser at my feet and gulp.