Until Trevor (Until, #2)(54)

“So you thought that you would come here, tie yourself up, and when Trevor got home, he would see you in bed and screw your brains out?” I ask, looking at the knots on her ankles, realizing that someone else must have tied her up, because her hands are tied the same way, and just as tight.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers, looking at the door. I think she’s in shock or something; this girl never stops running her mouth and now she can’t even form a few words.

“Don’t act like you don’t know that I live here.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” The anger in her voice makes my eyebrows go up.

“I wasn’t supposed to come home to my own house?”

“He doesn’t even want you!” she yells, her body thrashing around on the bed.

“You do know that we’re getting married, right?” I cross my arms over my chest, looking down at her.

“He will come back to me.”

“Wow,” “You are completely insane!”

“How do you think I got tied up?” She stops moving and smirks; I can’t help but to laugh at how stupid she is. Then I think about it; if I would have dropped Kara home and come in later, her plan might have worked. And that thought pisses me off even more.

“For someone who has so many stalker tendencies, you don’t know much,” I say, looking around the room, noticing her bag on the dresser.

“I'm not a st–stalker,” she sputters out, looking around, pulling on her wrist and trying to get free.

“Really, are you sure? Because I'm almost positive that this is the kind of thing a stalker does.” I open her purse, find her phone, and go to her text messages. Finding exactly what I'm looking for, I press call.

“What are you doing with my phone?” she yells. I take the blanket from the end of the bed and toss it over her, with a self-reminder to burn all the bedding when she leaves.

“Hi, Mr. Carlson. Jen is here at Trevor’s and is going to need you to come pick her up. Oh, and if she comes back again, I will be pressing charges for breaking and entering.”

“You f*cking bitch! What the f*ck is wrong with you? Are you crazy?” she screams, thrashing harder than before. I knew she wouldn’t like that; she’s a daddy’s girl all the way. Plus, her daddy pays for her school, and whatever else she needs, so his anger affects her bank account.

“I'm going to say this one last time, Jen. Trevor is mine, and if you insist on doing things like this, I will insist on making your life a living hell.”

“I'm going to tell everyone in town to stop coming to your store so that you’re forced out of business!” she yells.

“You can do that, and I'm sure some of your minions will listen; but that won’t change the fact that Trevor is mine.”

“He will be back. They all come back, eventually,” she says, making my anger skyrocket. I look around, seeing the scissors that I used this morning to cut a tag off a shirt laying on the dresser.

“What do you think about girls with bangs?” I ask, looking her over.

“What?”

“You know, bangs,” I say, making a slashing motion with my finger across my forehead.

“No one wears bangs,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You have always been a trendsetter, right, Jen?”

“Are you out of your mind? You want to talk about hair and clothes? Fucking untie me!” she screeches. I pick the scissors up off the table, and walk to the bed. Jen’s eyes go wide, looking at me then the scissors in my hand. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? Please don’t kill me.” I can’t help the evil smile that slides into place; her eyes get huge, and I lift the scissors close to her, speaking very quietly.

“You’re going to want to be very still, Jen. You don’t want me to give you crooked bangs or to cut you, right?” I ask, gathering a large chunk of hair from the front of her head.

“Don’t you dare,” she growls, but doesn’t move.

“Be still,” I repeat in a sugary sweet voice, before I open the scissors over the large wad of hair, and begin to cut; the noise that the scissors make is music to my ears. When I'm done, she has bangs that are so short, that ninety percent of her forehead shows. “Wow, I never noticed how big your forehead is. Too bad you don’t like bangs; they could help to cover that shit up,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I'm sure your dad will be here soon; I better go,” I say, dropping her hair in the trashcan by the bed, taking the scissors with me.

“I'm going to f*cking kill you.”

I shrug and walk out of the room closing the door behind me. Trevor is standing against the wall his head back, looking at the ceiling. Jen starts yelling from the other side of the door to untie her, so I yell back that her dad can do it when he gets here, causing her to start screaming at the top of her lungs. I have one last wicked idea.

I walk over to my purse where I had dropped it by the door when Trevor had carried me inside. I grab my phone, walk back into the bedroom, snap a few pictures of Jen, and grin when she thrashes around on the bed so hard, I think her wrists might snap. “There,” I say. “You’re always taking selfies when I see you and your posse in my store and at the bar. These will be a nice addition to your collection you no doubt have on Facebook. Don’t worry; I’ll tag ya.”