No Escape | Book 2 of Possessive

FIFTY-THREE

Jack's POV

I was awoken by Gabby gently nudging my arm and the sound of my alarm, which progressively got louder.

I realized that I was naked as I felt around the comforter, searching for my phone then soon realized that the sound was coming from the floor.

I groggily got up to retrieve it and pressed "STOP" once I reached it.

Once the noise stopped, Gabby burrowed herself back into the covers and closed her eyes again.

Today was Saturday, which usually meant that I would go on my morning jog or go to the gym, but I felt way too exhausted for all of that.

I got back under the covers with Gabby and wrapped my arms around her.

"No morning workout?" She muttered.

"I'm too tired for all that today." I answered before closing my eyes as well.

"You really wore yourself out yesterday, huh?"  She said playfully.

"Yeah, it was a lot." My eventful night replayed in my head and I thought back to my bloody shoes.

I let out a deep sigh "Well, maybe I should go ahead and go to the gym or something." I said as I sat up.

"Ok, well have fun." She mumbled, already dozing back off to sleep.

I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed before grabbing my briefs from the floor and slipping them on.

I walked over to our dresser to get a clean pair, then picked out a black t-shirt with a pair of black sweatpants shorts.

I slipped on a pair of slides, then headed downstairs to the kitchen.

I searched under the sink for the bleach and grabbed a worn out rag from the garage before heading out to my car.

I set the bleach and rag on the floor on the passenger's side and headed out to a park near our house. I know that not too many people go there, and I can't just clean these shoes in the garage or the driveway.

I drove around the park, looking for a secluded spot where I could sit down and clean off these shoes. When I finally found one, I parked my car, stuffed the shoes in a plastic bag and sat down in the grass.

I scrubbed each shoe for about ten minutes, realizing that a lot of the blood on the heel of the shoes, laces, or fabric inside were not coming out.

"Shit," I muttered to myself as I tried to drench them. I didn't plan on wearing them again anyways, but it would be so much easier if I could dump these while they were clean and white.

I let out a deep sigh before stuffing my shoes back in the bag and taking my gloves off so I could shove them in there too.

I sat in my car for a second, trying to think of stories, alibis, or even a place to hide the evidence. My stomach increasingly became more unsettled and I had to stop myself from thinking too hard so I could focus on not throwing up.

I scrambled to open up my car door, and as soon as I got it open, I threw up on the concrete and grass.

Everything from last night was really starting to set in. In the moment, I wasn't phased by the amount of blood at the scene, but looking back at it, the literal blood on my hands made me sick to my stomach.

I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach, leaving me weakly leaning out of my car door while I dry-heaved.

When it stopped, I sat there, coughing and groaning in pain.