The Hit List

Chapter 26

I wait for him to go until a quiet unease begins to grow inside of me. I'm still resolving a few things from that evening and the following morning. And he hasn't said anything negative about me at all. He is aware of my sense of disorientation. Around him, I haven't kept it all that secret.

He said he wanted to smoke one more cigarette before we left. It's his turn. He's kept me in the dark as to what we're doing today.

This brings me here on the couch, in a loose black shirt and dark blue yoga pants.

Hitch hasn't told me any details besides that today will involve physical activity.

My stomach argued against breakfast, but Hitch insisted I consume some form of protein. The only thing filling my stomach was a mixture of protein powder and juice. The drink coated my mouth. I know he thought the sugar would help it go down easier, instead, the flavors come together in a sickening tart chalky concoction. I took another sip, holding it in my mouth as I struggled to swallow it down. I walk over to the sink, watering it down with the faucet.

"How much powder did you put in this?" I ask as he comes back into the apartment. He is probably wondering why I'm not finished with it yet. The cup was still filled to the brim after multiple sips.

"Half a cup figured you could use the protein," he says, meeting my gaze directly as he casually pops a ginger candy into his mouth, a recent addition from his last trip to the grocery store. "I don't want you collapsing today. I want you to be set up for success," he adds, his tone reminiscent of a personal trainer, reciting words with a blend of care and determination.

I grimaced, wrestling with the task of stirring the murky concoction with a silver straw. "You need to try this. Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you find any redeeming qualities in this drink."

He stares at me in confusion. "How could it be bad? It's just juice and powder." He jokes.

I watch him take a drink, immediately rushing to the sink and spitting it on the silver. He coughs a couple of times, his spit coming out in the same shade as a brick.

Once done, he straightens up, rolling his eyes and shrugging. "It wasn't that bad."

My jaw falls slack. "It's not!" He lounges on the couch, casually slipping a tennis shoe onto his foot. "You're just being overly dramatic," he teases, chuckling as I eye the liquid still clinging to his teeth. "I mean, it's pretty awful." I cut in, pointing at my teeth. He watches me a second, before running his tongue along his.

He bares his teeth, making a slight humming sound. I nod at him, giving the thumbs up. "Thank you. Yeah, we might have to throw away that powder, I think it's unsalvagable." He takes my drink back into his hand, dumping it alongside his spit.

He searches my coat closet, moving boots around the shelf, lifting and shifting them aside. At last, he comes out with my white hoodie in one hand and a pair of black tennis shoes in the other. "Put these on, we've got to get moving soon," he teases with a playful wink. Since that morning, there's been a peculiar sense of ease that's developed between us. He carries them over to me and places the sweatshirt on my lap and the sneakers on the floor in front of me.

The weather outside is better than it's been the past few days, the rain has finally gone from the sky.

It's cloudy though, and I hope today won't involve another climb. I can already picture my feet sliding on the ground underneath me. "Please tell me we're not going for a damn run," I caution, my tone laced with a hint of desperation. "I'll spew up that protein juice in a heartbeat," I blurt out, the words escaping through my parched mouth as I struggle to maintain composure.