Page 120 of I Know Your Secret
“Now, I know that I was right.”
“What? I haven’t… I wouldn’t…”
“When I told you the other night where I was and what I was doing, you didn’t shy away. You fucked yourself harder, thinking of me covered in another man’s blood. Admit it,” I growl, nipping her bottom lip, she has poked out.
“I—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, poison. You closed those beautiful lids of yours and envisioned me covered in blood, a blade in my hand, my cock hard for you. Didn’t you?!” My voice grows louder, my hand slamming on the glass beside her.
“I did! God fucking help me, I did,” she whimpers, her lower lip warbling as a tear blends into the water cascading down her face.
“Aw, my deadly girl. Don’t cry. After all, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
29
Greer
After Koen and I showered, he left. But not before watching the meeting I had with Agent Helms over and over on a loop and brooding through the cabin like a bull in a china shop.
I took a nap, woke up to the dark cabin, checked my new burner for updates from Koen, and then wound up in the kitchen. After cooking some frozen ravioli I found and pairing them with a meat sauce, I plop down in Koen’s living room, which looks ordinary despite his outward appearance and otherwise cutthroat personality.
There’s an L-shaped, overstuffed couch, littered with throw pillows that look as if they came stock with the piece of furniture. Its pristine light gray fabric makes me wonder how much time Koen spends out here.
A mahogany coffee table nestles in close, atop a dark, shag throw rug over the wooden floors. It gives the room a cozy feel. The room is rounded out by a massive floor-to-ceiling entertainment center, boasting a flat-screen, a surround-sound system, and what looks like a game station.
I click on the television to find there’s a cable connection readily available and land on the news.
“A string of disappearances has authorities perplexed. A local bar, nestled back in the thick cover of the Oakland National Forest, has come under fire. Sip, as the bar is so eloquently named, is known for its less-than-reputable attendees and has been under the microscope before. Years ago, when the Oakland Nightstalker was on the prowl, Sip was thought to be the place he was hunting, or even the place he was snatching his victims from. No word has come from authorities about this investigation, but we’ll keep you updated with every new detail as it unfolds. Back to you in the studio, Dan.”
The blonde woman standing in front of Sip, a bar I know well since becoming entangled with Koen, fades away as the screen pops back to a man behind a news anchor desk, pristinely dressed in a suit that looks like it costs more than my house.
I sigh and turn the channel.
It’s not until I land on some random late-night sitcom from the 90s that I realize my heart is racing.
My life since hitting Koen has been in tatters. I’ve been a shell of who I used to be since then.
Now, I feel as though I’m blossoming, becoming a version of myself that I thought lost the longer I’m with Koen. I also know I shouldn’t want to be here with him.
It feels as though last night I resigned to my fate, so I swallow my food and snuggle into the couch, letting worries be something I deal with another day, when more about my future is solid.
For all I know, I don’t make it out of this.
I might as well have fun.
At least, that’s what Allison would say.
I’m jostled awake by movement, and I gasp as I come to, flicking my eyes open.
“Koen?” My voice is meek, and I hate the fear that shakes within it.
“It’s me.” He lifts me into his arms. The room is still illuminated by the television show I’d been watching. My discarded dishes cover the coffee table. I glance back at them as he carries me towards the bedroom.
My eyes grow heavy again as the warmth of safety blankets me while a killer carries me to bed.
I nuzzle into his neck. “You smell like cigarettes.”
“I know. I’m going to shower in a minute.”
