The Hit List

Chapter 31

"Are you sure you don't want me to see if there's a bathroom you can change in instead?" Hitch's voice rings through the cracked window.

"I'm fine!" I call back, struggling to maneuver around the backseats. "Just keep watch. I don't want to flash anyone!"

This is the first time we've spoken the entire ride. Now we're outside a church, Hitch watching as guests trickle in. His hands nonchalantly crossed behind his back.

I scan a couple of bruises on my legs, making a face as I slip black tights over them. Careful not to rip them as I pulled them up over my midsection.

The fabric is tight, but not unbearable. I run the cheap velvet of my dress between my fingers, before slipping one leg through the neckhole.

"Fuck." "What? What happened?" Hitch asks, turning his neck slightly, but not looking through the darkened glass.

"It's shorts. This dress has shorts. What dress has shorts?" I continuously spout expletives from my mouth, slipping my other leg through the unnoticed second hole.

"No dress has shorts. It's not a dress. You didn't bring a dress?" Hitch asks, scoffing as he listens to me struggle to pull the long sleeves over my arms.

"No. I didn't bring a dress." I swing open the door, accidentally hitting his back in the process. "How did you not know it was a dress?" He asks, slightly bent.

"Sorry about that," I apologize sheepishly. "Honestly, I have no idea," I admit with a dry laugh. "I bought it in one of my manic episodes. I didn't even try it on in the store. It's been sitting in my closet for three months. I'm honestly surprised it fits." I smooth the velvet underneath my fingertips, the sharp rocks of the parking lot digging into my feet.

Hitch's raised eyebrow suggests he's simultaneously amused and bewildered by my words. "Well, it's certainly making for an interesting start to this evening," he remarks dryly.

I nod in agreement with a smirk. Interesting feels like an understatement.

He finally straightens up, his eyes falling on the black velvet. He pauses, scanning it repeatedly. His expression is unreadable.

He tears his eyes away as I sit down in the backseat, grabbing a black heel adorned with flowers off of the floor of the car.

Shoes I bought for my grandmother's funeral and haven't worn since. I attempt to do them up, struggling with the small clasp.

As I hold the shoe in my hands, memories of my grandmother flood my mind.

"Let me help you." Hitch crouches down, his face lowering to my feet. He takes the clasp in his fingers, nimbly slipping all the pieces together.

"Thank you," I speak quietly, handing him my second shoe. He takes it with a light smile, his eyes shining beneath the falling sun. "Let me fix your hair." I run my hands through his short locks, smoothing some pieces over. My nude nails ran themselves lightly over his scalp. A favor I felt like I needed to do in return.

He stands up, my fingers falling away from him. I replace the feeling of his hair with a short necklace of pearls that I grip tightly. I don't want to ask him for more, but I know it'll be easier with help. "Do you mind?" I stand up, holding the white strand out to him. He nods wordlessly, motioning for me to turn around.

He takes the necklace from my hand, gently draping it around my neck. The irony isn't lost on me. The hands that will eventually end my life, are so delicate in this moment. His fingers light as they touch my skin. His touch is cool. Leaving me quickly as he hooks the necklace closed around my throat.