BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Eight

"I uh, w-was getting my lunch," I stammer, my hands feeling clammy and shaky as I point to the storage room.

I've never been screamed at like this before, and the anger radiating off of this man makes it worse than I ever could have imagined.

He continues inching towards me until he's close enough for me to feel his body heat without touching me. He's almost a foot taller than me, the height difference allowing him to tower over me. I've never noticed how tall he really is.

"You didn't see a fucking thing," he whispers, a rasp in his deep voice. I nod quickly.

"Okay," I say quietly, my voice cracking.

"I want to hear you say it," he demands, raising his voice slightly.

The blood is still dripping, now down his chin and onto his black and white flannel.

"I- I didn't see anything," I shake my head, unable to break contact with his intense green eyes.

He smirks and raises his right hand to push my hair off of my shoulder, making me flinch. He leans down to my ear, his lips lightly brushing against it.

"Good girl," he praises, barely loud enough for me to hear it. "Now get the fuck out."

• • •

———

8:36 pm

———

I slam the door to my apartment once I'm inside and quickly lock it, sliding down against it until my butt reaches the floor.

What the fuck? Seriously, what the actual fuck?

This man is a god damn psychopath.

He didn't say one word to me for the rest of the day. He practically threw my tip at me and walked out before I had even finished mopping at the end of the night. He didn't have any clients for the rest of the day, so it was pretty easy to steer clear of him, thank god.

I just don't understand why he got so angry when he was the one doing drugs in the back room. If he didn't want anyone to catch him he should have gone to the bathroom or something.

I feel like I still haven't fully processed it yet, but I know for sure that wasn't a normal reaction to something like that.

I've had people treat me horribly in the past, but this is on a completely different level. The energy that this man carries with him is like a black cloud, raining on everything and everyone around him.

I've only known him for four days and I already hate him. I know hate is a strong word, but that's clearly what he feels for me so I don't really care.

What makes all of this so much worse, is that it had to happen today, of all days.

I feel tears pricking the inner corners of my eyes and I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, trying to stop myself from having a full-on meltdown.

I need to grow the fuck up and stop letting this control me.

I feel my body shudder as I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up the Photos app. I go to my albums and click on the folder labeled 'Family', photos of my mom, dad and little sister filling my screen. I scroll up a bit until I find my favorite one, just a few days before the accident.

It shows all four of us on the beach in Coronado, my mom's favorite place in the world. We're all laughing and smiling at each other while some stranger snapped the picture for us; we were completely unaware of what was to come.