“You had me skip school this afternoon so I could see an empty apartment?” she mocks.
I squint my eyes at her and she squints back. “I’m moving, and you’re helping me pick out an apartment.”
“Oh. How many have you seen so far?”
“This one.”
“How many are we looking at?”
“I’m not really the shopping type so, this one.”
“Then it’s perfect,” she says, faking enthusiasm.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Jenna’s office. “I need to take this, go look around,” I tell Cereus and then go outside to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Ryan?”
“Yes, Jenna. You called my number.”
“I’m just checking up on you. I heard about the tragic accident at Grace Manor.”
I pace the small porch that borders the front of the apartment. “It wasn’t an accident. It was done with purpose of the end result.”
“Well, yes, I know. Unfortunately some patients with this kind of depression suffer major setbacks and a high number of them take their own life.” She sounds quiet, like she’s talking me off a ledge.
“Some people just can’t be saved,” I tell her and she breathes down the line.
“Are we talking about the girl or you?”
“I am saved, didn’t you know?”
“I want you to come in tomorrow. You could be in shock and I would like to see you.”
Damn, I thought I’d be left alone now. I would turn her down and tell her to leave me alone but the niggling inside me that wants to play with her won’t let me.
“Sure, what time?”
“Oh, hang on, let me look.” There’s rustling down the line from her flipping the pages on her calendar. “Two p.m?”
“Fine.” I end the call and go back inside.
Cereus is staring at the back wall of the living space when I enter. “So?” I ask.
“It’s the one,” she jokes. “I think you should paint a mural on this back wall.”
I stand behind her; the scent of apples from her shampoo tickles my senses.
“We should do one together.”
Her breath hitches from my close proximity. I move back and she watches me over her shoulder. “That would be really cool,” she murmurs.
“So, I can’t hang around tonight,” she grumbles, walking over to pick up her school bag. “Stacy is being a girl and making me watch movies and eat ice cream with her.” I raise a brow. This is not Cereus and I hate that she indulges Stacy with her crap. “She’s hurting over some guy giving her the brush off. She was really into him and she thought he was into her but he just stopped contacting her.”
She’s tragic. I hadn’t gone further than brushing her lips with mine once. How can she be broken up about nothing? I should never have bothered going through her to learn about Cereus.
“She sounds needy.” I groan making Cereus grin at me.
“She really is. He sounds like a creep to me anyway. She met him in her Dad’s liquor store. She said he was in there a lot and they got talking. She said he was thirty, so I think it’s probably for the best.” She shrugs.
I walk over, tucking her hair behind her ear and leaving the pad of my thumb to linger on her cheek. She’s so soft. The heat of her blush warms my skin. I can’t be sure if she’s blushing from the affection she presumes I’m offering or the uneasiness. We’ve become close but the line is fuzzy of what we actually are to each other. I don’t treat her like a child or my niece, I treat her as if she’s my equal and that’s a first ever for me.
Stacy took a guess at my age, as I never gave her that age or any age. I shouldn’t be disappointed, she took years off me, not that age really means anything to me.
“Why a creep? Is age that big a deal breaker? Your Dad’s older than your Mom,” I tell her.
She lowers her eyes and I move my hand away from her. “It’s more the fact he’s in there to buy liquor all the time and then leading her on. Men know an easy target when they see one and she’s . . .”
“Easy” I finish for her, and her eyes flash to mine. I break the stare and hand her the folder she placed on the counter when she arrived. She grabs it, causing some pieces of paper to flitter free and litter the floor. We bend down at the same time to pick them up, our hands picking up the same image. It’s a drawing of me; I’m standing in the middle of the subway and everything around me is in shadow, including the train. The only color on the picture is the red aura around me. The detail is amazing. The broken color around the focal point makes the image bold despite the black and white. Everyone and everything around me in the image is muted; it’s how I see the world.
“This is incredible,” I say honestly. I don’t offer praise lightly, or ever. I never really found anyone worthy of it but she’s beyond talented.
“Tell that to my art teacher because he gave me a C-.” She sighs. “That’s the lowest mark I’ve received from him and I know it’s because of those stupid rumors. Part of me wants to tongue Stacy in front of him and shame him for being a homophobic asshole.” She huffs and I want to go fuck him up the ass and then kill him. My first kill was after someone called me a faggot. It wasn’t that the word offended me; I don’t care if people think I’m gay or straight. I don’t care who people fuck or don’t fuck, it was him thinking he could insult me, intimidate me. He was a useless drug-dealing piece of shit who wasn’t worthy of my rage. I regret being careless that night but I couldn’t control the need in the moment. I’d suppressed the urge for so long. It’s a surreal moment when the only thing that makes sense to you is your own voice in your head telling you to kill.
“Ryan.” Cereus says my name and shakes my shoulders to gain my attention. “Where did you just go?”
“What do you mean?”
“I said your name four times and you were just staring into space.”
“Sorry. You know, homosexual relationships are banned in Iran, but the country carries out more sex change operations than any other nation in the world except for Thailand.”
Her brow furrows and she lets out an awkward laugh. “Okay?” she says.
“Come on, I need to get back to the realtors office and sign the paperwork.”
I walk around the empty space after signing the contract and paying a year’s rent in advance to make them look the other way when I couldn’t provide references. They happily gave me the key and the name of a removal company that give good rates. I don’t need a removal company; I have nothing to my name. I need to shop for basic crap and the idea of actually doing that makes me want to punch a wall. I have no clue about this shit, Cereus can have that job.
I take a trip to the address I found for Doctor Jenna, just to get a feel for what kind of place she owns. It’s a nice little two-story house with a white mailbox and a garden gnome. I pick up the decorative little man and debate taking him just because I can, but a glint catches my eye and I see a key embedded into his feet. Her spare key? She works in a hospital full of serial killers and rapists so she knows the danger of being so careless. I take the key to get it copied.
Isabella has been blowing up my phone, and the urge to call her and tell her to come here so I can slice into her some more is overwhelming, but I have to control these cravings. I’m being watched by Blake, and Jodie’s death will already be rattling feathers. It’s as if the world wants me to kill because my phone lights up again with Isabella’s number. It’s good to be out of that place. I feel almost normal, as normal as I can, anyway. A rap at the front door draws my attention. I’ve been here all of five minutes and only Cereus knows the address.
Swinging the door open I come face to face with a petite blonde. Her light green eyes look up at me expectantly.
“What?” I bark making her flinch.
She squints her eyes at me. “You need to move your car.”
I look to where she gestures and notice a red Ford nearly kissing my bumper with its own.
I bought a car so I don’t need to take the train anywhere. I hate using public transport; they’re peasant wagons.