The Hit List

Chapter 13

It felt easier to change the subject, easier to argue than to sympathize. Anger felt better than sadness.

"Instead of blocking my account. What was up with that?" I turned my body towards him, my knees grazing his in the close proximity.

His mouth drops open. "What kind of person do you think I am?" I let the pen go onto my skin, lightly scratching against me. "The kind you are. Interested in other peoples' suffering."

"If I was so interested in your suffering would I be doing this whole list thing? Answer me that." He looks cocky, as though he believed he had won. "Yeah, probably. Just prolonging the inevitable for your gain." My hand gripped the small notepad, the top few papers crinkling beneath my fingers.

"And yours. We're both getting something out of this. You're getting what you wanted and more, I'm not sure why you hate this deal so much." He laughs. 

"You don't seem very adventurous. And I'm probably right in my assumption..." He gives me a knowing look. "Your social media has been barren the last seven months. And I don't think people have even bothered to notice. You've pushed everybody else away, I'm all you have left." He's wagging his eyebrows, taunting me with something we both know to be true. 

"Oh my gosh. I hate you. I am not going to complete a couple of little lists just so you'll kill me. You are truly feral."

He laughs, deep and genuine. As though we were two people arguing about where we'd be eating dinner.

He gets up, heads towards the sink, and pours himself a glass of water. My mind is racing. The odds were leaning further towards him than ever before. And I was terrible at math. All of my thoughts end with me still being alive right now. I chuckled aloud, the type that would sound crazy to most. One that crushed my chest as it came out. Things were not getting better.

He took a couple of sips, the water going down his throat slowly. "You don't have to like me to do this with me. I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, more indifferent in feelings."

With my head resting back on the soft leather, I pulled my legs underneath myself. "So where exactly are you planning on staying for this? Do you live nearby? Gonna find the nearest hotel?"

He wrinkled his nose, taking another drink out of the glass. "No, the hotels here are horrendous. They look like they have more roaches than guests."

I allowed a breath to escape my nose as I fixed my gaze on the ceiling. "I'm sorry if they don't meet your expectations. I'll say it again. Where will you be staying?"

I turned my face toward him, tilting my neck as I heard him laugh again.

"Your couch seems comfortable enough. It's not a pull-out, which is a shame. If you were polite enough, you'd offer your bed."

I would have ruined my apartment with wine if I had any in my mouth. "I'm not offering you anything."

"Well, that's rude of you. Usually, when someone says they'll do a favor for you, you do one in return." He placed the glass on the counter, the liquid sitting low in the cup.

"Killing someone is not a favor." My fingers gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles turning a light shade of cream.

"Usually it's not, but I think this situation is a bit of an exception." He leaned his elbow on the countertop, the picture of homeliness.

"You're not sleeping in my apartment." I had few safe places in this world, I wasn't going to let go of a single one of them.

I had trouble sleeping enough at night, sharing a roof with him was a recipe for sleepless nights pushing me further into insanity.