Six(12)

Red dots.

Blood.

I stared down at them, all the fine droplets, my stomach rolling as their origin flashed through my mind. More tears fled from my eyes.

Everything was tainted.

I finished pulling off the rest of my clothes, suddenly happy for the T-shirt from the psychopath, and stepped into the disgusting shower. The moment the warm water hit my skin, tears streamed down my cheeks full force. There was no stopping the torrent flooding down my face or keeping the wailing cries in.

Every emotion poured out. So many feels, and no strength left to handle them.

The warmth helped to calm me some, to soothe me, but nothing could assuage the guilt or fear hanging over me. What was I going to do? How was I going to get away from him?

A fluke is the only thing that separated me from my coworkers, my friends. An ironic karma that stayed a bullet for a time.

When the water began to cool, I quickly shampooed my hair and made sure all the dye was off my eyebrows before I was forced to return to him.

I turned off the spray and grabbed a towel, drying my body before putting my panties back on along with the shirt he gave me. The bra stayed off, and I was too warm to put my scrub pants back on. Not to mention that I simply didn’t want to put the blood of my friends and coworkers back on.

The mirror was steamed over, obscuring my reflection, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the stranger, the ghost of me, anyway.

When I exited, Six was in a pair of jeans and nothing else, the play of light and shadows showing off his cut physique. The view reminded me of the night before and pissed me off that I was somehow still physically attracted to the son of a bitch who ruined my life.

I inched forward, setting my clothes on one of the beds. Staying silent seemed the best bet. I didn’t have anything to say anyway. The surrealness seeped into my skin, causing a floating-like sensation to crawl around my body.

His back was to me as he rifled through one of the bags. My gaze wandered around as I waited for whatever horror was next. I froze when I spotted the first sliver of an out I’d seen since he blasted into my life that day.

On the table sat his gun with the silencer still attached, along with a knife. It looked military, much larger than the average pocket knife, with the blade and handle being one piece. The tip curved up into a sharp point.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

That piece of metal could free me.

The gun I could f*ck up with, plus I didn’t even know if it was still loaded with as many shots as he got off, but a knife? Anything goes.

I glanced over to Six. He was still facing away, giving me an opportunity. There wasn’t much time, seconds, but it was enough.

I stepped forward and curled my fingers around the handle. As I turned, so did he, and I swung with every bit of strength I could.

His forearm shot out, blocking my attack, the blade tip slicing across his bicep. Before I could pull back and attempt another go, he grabbed hold of my wrist and twisted it, causing my fingers to open and the knife to fall down to the floor.

His lip twitched up into a snarl before he swung his arm out and connected with my face.

I landed hard on the ground, my head ringing as a pain began to throb at my cheek.

“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing?” His scream pierced through me, causing me to shake.

He stalked toward me, dead eyes watching as I scooted back until I hit the wall.

“Please…” My teeth started chattering as the fear took over.

“You want to live? Is that it?” he asked as he leaned down and picked the knife up.

Hot tears streamed down my face as I forced the sobs back and nodded, my face screwed up. He stepped forward and squatted down in front of me, staring at me.

“You know…” he trailed off and turned the knife tip toward me. He brushed the back edge against my neck, running it lightly against my skin. “One tiny nick, right here.” His cold eyes bored into me. “You’ll be dead in seconds.”

A knock on the door made his dangerous gaze narrow and the tip of the knife to press into my skin. “Not a peep.”

He stood and walked toward the door, picking up his gun from the table on the way and slipping it into his waistband.

I sat, shaking, biting into my hand to keep quiet.

“Yes?” he asked whoever was on the other side of the door, the chain only allowing it to open a few inches.

“Hi, sorry to disturb you,” a woman’s voice said. “My name is Diane, and my husband and I are on his great backroads trip to the Appalachian trail and, well, our car broke down here of all places…” she let out a nervous laugh “…and we’re staying in the room next door.”

With each word his muscles tensed. “And?”

“And, well… Is everything all right? I heard a woman crying and screaming.”

My eyes grew wide, and my heart started beating hard in my chest. Someone heard me. Maybe she could help me.

“Sorry, that was the TV,” he said without missing a beat.

“Are you sure? It sounded so real.”

My heart begged for her to believe the gut that lead her over, to call someone, to help me out of the nightmare I was in.

“Not all porn is girls begging for more.”

“Oh,” the woman said, but before she could say anything else, Six slammed the door and flipped the lock.

He remained where he was, listening. In the absolute silence I could hear her footsteps, her key jingling in the lock, the creak of the door as it opened, then closed with a thud.