“Look,” Tobin says cautiously. “I won’t seek Tom out and start asking him a bunch of questions because I can see you’re clearly concerned about that. It sounds like a private matter between the two of you and I don’t really think it impacts this case in any way. I know Tom. He’s a good guy. His personal life is his own business and so is yours. But if you think of anything else that happened that night or even that week before, that didn’t seem right, a random stranger approaching you, anything at all, just get in touch with me. Okay?”
“Of course.” Just leave.
We say goodbye, an odd tension lingering between us. I close the door and lean against it, my mind frazzled. Will Tobin keep his promise to not talk with Tom about us? Being Tom’s secret makes me feel dirty. Like I need a bath. A surge of anger washes over me, replacing the shame. I push off the door and grab my rain jacket. I need to run. Fuck Tom. Fuck everyone.
I lock up behind me and dart out of my building. The rain has stopped but the air is damp and heavy on my face. It’s bitter cold too. I welcome it.
Feeling as if someone is watching me, I glance around as I near the bottom stair. Right, left, then right again. Across the street, even up in the windows of the building directly on the other side. Nothing seems out of place. Ignoring the way the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, I break into a run, desperate to shed this growing agitation.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A strong arm wraps around my waist as something sweeps both of my feet out from under me. The breath is knocked from my lungs in a painful whoosh when my back hits the mat with a dull thud.
“You have to keep your opponent directly in front of you at all times, Tessa.” Tobin peers down at me, kneeling by my side. His expression is earnest, minus the hint of a smirk at the right corner of his mouth. “The moment you let someone come at you from the side, you’re done.”
Catching my breath, I try to ignore both the pain between my shoulder blades and the way my heart beats faster when he’s so close to me. I don’t care for either. “Yeah, well, that’s easy for you to say. You’ve got what, seventy-five, eighty pounds on me?”
“That’s true.” He pauses. His eyes gently take me in. I can’t breathe. His masculine scent of sweat intermingled with cologne teases me. He’s about to say something that will alter our dynamic forever. I sense it. I reach up and place a hand on his chest as if warning him to keep his distance. He glances down and his expression falters. I know what he sees before he says anything. Fuck.
I roll away, then scramble to my feet to put more space between us. I shove my shirt sleeves over my forearms, then brush the bangs from my face, hoping he’ll ignore what he just discovered.
Still on his knees, he leans back and sits on his heels. “What happened to your arm?”
I sigh. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
My eyes dart toward the other instructor and student on the other side of the gym, hoping they can’t hear our conversation even though our voices are hushed.
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I give him my attention.
“Why do you come here every other night, Tessa?”
“What do you mean?”
He takes a step closer. “I mean you come here and train with me. You work hard. You push yourself. You’re learning fast and excelling in training. But why? I think I know why, but I want you to tell me.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” His brow is set, determined.
“But I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Because I’m scared!” I yell.
Shocked by my own reaction, I glance again toward our other gym members who are now staring at us with wide-eyed, startled expressions.
“Don’t worry about them. Look at me.”
My heart gallops in my chest as I turn back to Tobin. “I come because this is the only place I feel safe. It’s the only time when I feel like I’m somewhat in control of my life. Every other moment is spent just trying to breathe. I would like to be able to walk down the street without thinking someone is following me. Without being scared out of my mind. Without self-doubt determining my every waking moment.”
His expression softens. “Why do you think someone is following you?”
My face contorts with confusion. “What? I can’t keep up with you. What are we talking about here?”
“I know what you’ve been through. How much you’ve suffered. But you never show it. Not really. I’ve been wondering how to talk to you, how to get you to open up that shell of yours. And then I see your arms, and it’s obvious you’re not coping nearly as well as I’d hoped. But now I want to know why you think someone is following you.”
“I don’t. I mean, I do…sometimes…but that’s not the point. I have all kinds of crazy thoughts these days. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I survived something horrible. I killed two men. Yet, I can barely stand to leave my house. I’m losing my mind.”
“You did what you had to do to survive. It was instinct. It was desperation. But it was bravery too. That’s what you’re still not seeing. Even after weeks of training, three nights a week. You still don’t see it. You may be scared, but you’re brave too. And if you honestly think someone is following you, then I need to know that. I can give you protection. I can make sure you’re safe until we find the man who hired your kidnappers.”
I cock my head to the side and gauge his sincerity. “You think someone could actually be following me? Maybe I’m not just paranoid?”
He gives a light chuckle. “After all you’ve been through? No, you’re not paranoid.”
Silence falls between us. A wave of stifling heat flushes over my body. The scabs on my arms start to itch. It feels good to have someone validate my fears, but in another sense it’s absolutely terrifying. I turn and walk to the edge of the mat, snagging my sweatshirt off the floor.
“Where are you going? We still have fifteen minutes left.”
I offer him a brief glance, but can’t hold it for fear of allowing him to see my growing anxiety. “I’m not feeling well. I’m done for tonight.”
“Tessa, wait.” He runs to the opposite side of the room to dig through a black backpack. When he returns, he has a yellow sticky note in his hand. “This is my cell phone number. If anything comes up, I don’t care what it is, someone looks suspicious, you hear a funny noise, doesn’t matter, you give me a call. I’m here for you.”
I stare at his outstretched hand for a few brief moments of contemplation before I reach out and take the note. “Thanks.” I turn and walk as fast as I can out of the gym.
After lingering in the locker room for what seems like forever, hoping I won’t run into anyone and have to be social on the way out, I decide to head home. It’s quiet in the hallway, but the lights are still on in the gym, so I slink by and sneak out the back door.
Rain is pouring down in sheets. It’s as if the sky has opened up and unleashed its fury. Swearing under my breath, I hide under the thin eave and wrestle my way into my sweatshirt. With my hood pulled over, I duck my head and dart around the building to my car. My foot slips on the slick cement. My arms flail out as I stagger-step to regain my balance. Still upright, I’m more careful with my footing as I rush to the car. Not that it will matter. The icy rain is already soaking through to my skin.
As I approach the curb, I reach into the front pocket of my hoodie for my keys and find only lint. Shit. I turn and scan the sidewalk to see if they fell out on the way. Nothing but a crushed latté container lying in a puddle. Tracing my steps, I head back to the gym. I’m surprised to see the main overhead lights are now off. Only the hallway lights filter in through the doorways. An odd sense of disappointment fills me as I realize Tobin is already gone. Why does this make me sad? I just ran from him in humiliation.
Baffled and disgruntled, I scurry across the empty gym, over the mats, and through the nearest opening into the brigh
tly lit hall. The squeak of my wet sneakers bounces off the walls as I make my way to the locker room. I push the door open and breathe a sigh of relief when I spot my keys lying on the bench by the locker I’d used tonight. Thank god.
I snatch them and hurry out the door. Something about being here when everyone else has left gives me the creeps. Then again, I know someone has to be here still because the building hasn’t been locked up for the night yet. That thought doesn’t make me feel any better, so I pick up the pace.
When I shove the back door open again and step into the night, I’m pleased to find that that rain has stopped. The door thuds closed behind me and I tip up my face toward the sky. I take in a cleansing breath. Nothing smells better than Washington air after a rain.
The sounds of an argument interrupts my brief reverie. I clutch my keys tight to stifle any sound that might signal my presence. Voices of a man and a woman echo down the alley. Goosebumps raise over my flesh and I tuck my hair behind one ear so I can hear them better. Traffic down the road muffles out the details. I can’t make out their words, but their tone is angry and threatening. My inner voice whispers, turn around and mind your own business.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. I want to listen to that persistent little voice and turn and escape to my car. But something pulls at me. Maybe it’s the way the man’s tone barks and bullies. Maybe it’s the way the woman’s tone cajoles and cowers. Trying to soothe the bear. I can’t help myself. I tiptoe along the edge of the wall, then peek around the corner. They’re about twenty yards away, just in the shadows of the building, away from the streaming beam of the streetlights, amidst what appears to be a small construction project. Long and short two-by-fours are stacked neatly in rows, organization amongst chaos. One wall of the building behind the gym is torn away.
Among the mess, a man and woman face one another in a standoff, not even a foot apart. He towers over her small frame with a finger jutted in her face. Though she’s in the shadows, I recognize her from class. She had been the other student tonight.
Just back away. It’s none of my business. Breathe in. Breathe out. I’m screaming on the inside. Leave. I need to leave. Just walk away. I feel dizzy.
He slaps her hard across her right cheek. She stumbles to the side to keep from falling. He grabs her by the shirt and hauls her to her feet, only to shake her until I imagine her teeth rattling. “Fucking bitch. I’ve told you a thousand times not to talk to me like that.”
A flush of anger floods from my core to my limbs and zings through my fingers and toes. I lunge forward and break into a sprint. Wind whips up my hair. Wet strands lash across my face. As I approach full speed, the man turns his head and glances over his shoulder. His face contorts with a mixture of hostility and confusion. “What the fu…”
His sentence trails off as I leap onto his back. My legs wrap around his waist like a vise. One arm wraps around his neck while the other lands blow after blow to his temple. He stumbles around to compensate for my weight, trying to reach around to grab me at the same time. The woman is crying and screaming. Thoughts race through my head faster and faster. Blood pumps through my veins. I know what I’m doing is insane, but I’m already doing it and it doesn’t matter. I’ve crossed a line that I can’t go back on. I keep punching over and over again. My hand throbs. Every cell in my body zings.
He manages to reach around and grabs a fistful of my hair. My mind flashes back to all the times Jake pulled my hair, and how it disempowered me. How it angered me. He yanks so hard that tears spring from my eyes and I lose my grip around his waist. I release my legs and scramble to find footing, knowing that he will turn and unleash his wrath. His arm jerks back hard just as my feet hit the ground and I tumble to the asphalt.
I roll to my stomach and crawl as fast as I can to get away. I hear him coming. My knees scrape against asphalt through my pants as I scurry across the pavement toward the object I have my eye on. My right hand wraps around it as his fingers encircle my ankle and drag me toward him.
With a long two-by-four in my grip, I flip to my back and bring the solid piece of wood around in a long, dangerous arc, like a batter swinging his bat for the first game of the season. Just a little shaky, but with a ton of power behind it. He tries to duck back, but the slab of wood connects with his skull before he can get far enough away. The sound is dull and sickening. My stomach quivers, but I leap to my feet while he falls to the ground in slow motion. Dazed, he grabs his head and goes down to one knee. He wobbles, then falls forward face down on the concrete.
“Oh my god, Oh, my god. You killed him.” The woman kneels to his side, her face pale.
I’m trembling. With fear. With adrenaline. With a little bit of excitement. I’m wild. I’m alive.
The man mumbles and groans. He’s alive.
I look at the woman, expecting her to cry or scream or threaten me. She glances around nervously. “Hurry, leave. Before someone sees you.”
“What?”
Her brows draw together and her lips purse tight. “I said go. When he comes to he’ll be angry but he’ll be embarrassed too. He won’t report this. You’re a girl. He’d die first. And he has no idea who you are. So go. I won’t say anything. You’ll never see me again.”
I hesitate. This feels wrong.
Sirens echo in the distance. I know they aren’t coming our way, but still, maybe someone heard the commotion and called the police.
The man groans again. She steps forward. “Please. Just go,” she begs.
“But what about you?”
“I’ll be fine. He won’t do anything. Not tonight. Besides, I’ve been dealing with him a long time. I know how to handle him.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be.”
She nods. The look on her face is resignation. “I know. Now, please go, before he comes to.”
Images of police and a jail cell taunt me. Knowing it’s my best option, I turn to look for my keys. They lay close to a pile of wood. I snatch them, then turn and run. Around the corner. Down the alley. To my car. All the way home I replay the events over and over again. Adrenaline courses through my body. Parts of my body begin to throb and I know where I’ll have bruises in the morning. On the right side of my skull, a deep ache pulses from when he grabbed me by my hair. Fresh rage washes over me. I swerve into a parking spot half a block down from my building. Shove it into park, turn the key. Swing the door open and slide out, slamming it behind me as I bolt up the sidewalk and up my front stairs.
Inside my apartment I march with purpose to my bathroom. Flick on the switch. Ignore the woman in the reflection and dig through my drawers. Shuffling through each one, I grow more agitated and hell bent on my mission. I know they’re in here somewhere. My fingers hit metal and hook through the handle of my hair scissors.
Finally facing the woman in the mirror, I lean forward over the sink and start hacking away. Large clumps of curly hair fall away, easing the weight on my soul with every snip of the scissors. I can’t seem to cut fast enough. Cut. Cut. Cut. Get rid of this fucking hair. I’m breathing so fast I feel close to hyperventilating, dizzy and euphoric. I let out a dark moan that starts deep in my chest. As it rises in my throat, it escalates in pitch and decibels as I decide to let it evolve into a full-fledged scream. My neighbors probably think I’m being murdered or losing my mind. I don’t care. It feels good. I scream again and again, watching the way the scissors dance around my scalp, trimming and hacking without reserve. I snip and slice until I have nothing more than an inch and a half all over my head. It’s choppy and messy and no one could possibly get a grip on it. No. One. Ever. Again.
I stop and stare at the woman in the mirror and barely recognize her. Her eyes are wild. But I like her so much more than I liked the other woman. This woman isn’t afraid. This woman will fight for what she believes in. This woman has fire in her eyes.
I stare at her for another few moments and let my senses settle. Slowly, my muscles relax, the tension oozing from each cell in exquisite release
. My breathing returns to a normal pace. Calmness eases in, an unknown sensation.
I slip out of my clothes and hop into the shower, relishing in the way the hot water seems to wash away the woman I used to be. When I’m thoroughly cleansed, I step out, dry off with a large white towel, and crawl into an over-sized t-shirt. I’m calm. I’m not anxious or afraid. I have no desire to cut myself tonight. I feel…sleepy.
I get into bed, turn off the light, and close my eyes, knowing that I’m going to sleep better than I have in months.
***
A bang, bang, banging wakes me from a deep sleep. Face down on my bed, I raise off the pillow and glance toward the clock, smacking my dry lips together. It’s nine a.m. I blink and stare longer. There’s no way that can be right. I haven’t slept through the night in longer than I care to think about. Definitely haven’t slept in this long either.
Bang, bang, bang. “I know you’re in there, Tessa. I saw your car out front. Open the dang door.”
Terin. I roll to my back with a sigh and run my fingers through my hair. A moment of realization passes over me when my fingers brush through my short, choppy cut. Memories of the night before flash before me and I have to stifle a laugh. Feeling lighthearted and oddly happy, I throw back the covers as Terin pounds out another round of persistent knocking. My body is achy and sore, but I still feel better than I have in longer than I can recall.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Chill your motorboat, woman!”
I shuffle to the door and prepare to face my best friend.
It’s fascinating to watch her expression shift so quickly from exasperation to confusion to shock as she takes in my appearance.
“Holy mother of God, woman! What in the hell happened to your hair?”
I reach up with a smirk and run my fingers through it again. Feels nice. “I cut it.” I turn and walk away, leaving the door wide open for her to come on in. “I need some coffee. Do you want some?”