Page 15 of Tormented & Tulips

I head down the trail. Soft turf base turns into steps made from railway beams. The roaring of water on rocks lets me know I’m getting close. The main path hairpins right. I pause at the turn to scan through the trees. A small deer track cuts through the soil off the main path. I follow it through the woods, as I’ve been doing the last few months. Shouldering my way through the branches, I emerge on the wooden bridge centered just below a cascading waterfall.

Looking up and closing my eyes, I soak in the sounds of the waterfall. Mist and droplets grace my face from where the water lands on a rock. After allowing myself a few moments to enjoy the serenity of this place, I begin to picture exactly where I’ll be placing my flower tomorrow night.

Leaning over the wooden railing, I manipulate the wood, checking for signs of vulnerability. Confirming the absence of rot, I pull my keys out and drag them across the wood. The thin dark veneer of the wood peels back, exposing the light meat underneath. With markers in place, I pull the hand drill out of my bag. Slipping my gloves on, I place the drill against the railing and begin to crank—drilling just deep enough to set the eye screw securely in place.

Halfway through my preparations, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I don’t need to look through the trees to know I’m being watched like a bug under a glass. I fucking hate that.

Gritting my teeth, I crank the drill until it’s the correct depth for my eye hook screw. The gloves make pulling the screw out of my pocket more difficult than it should be. Fitting it in the starter hole, I turn until it’s set in place. Packing away my tools and blowing the wood chips off the bridge, I turn to see the sun set.

The sun kisses the main path leading around the edge of the mountain. So peaceful. On a deep inhale, I raise both hands in the air to give a double bird to the whole mountain. When no one steps out, my ears begin to ring.

“Pussy!” I shout as loud as possible, before lowering my hands.

I shoulder the branches as I make my way up the path. The sound of water rushing in the distance is broken by the snap of a branch along the forest floor. Freezing in place, I turn, trying to pinpoint where it came from. My eyes widen at Mr. Blue Eyes working his way through the trees.

“I’m just going out on a limb here. You wanted to talk to me. Correct?” he asks mockingly as he waves his hand toward the bridge. His arms cross over his chest.

“Who the fuck are you?” My voice rises, probably a bit too much for the situation.

A smug smile crosses his lips. His brows tip up in amusement.

Is he fucking amused at me? This fucking guy.

“Again. Who the fuck are you?” I throw my pack to the ground, freeing my arms from constraint.

“I was hoping we could consider ourselves colleagues…” His blue eyes trap me in place. I narrow my own in response. “But judging by the look I’m getting, which is very scary by the way, I guess you can call me a disgruntled neighbor.”

He takes a slow step toward me, bringing himself into a pool of light from a break between the trees. The accent carries in his deep voice. My mind weaves through the memories of the past few months searching for some hint of the last time I heard that accent. I’m fairly certain I don’t have any British victims. Clearing his throat, he uncrosses his arms. I can’t help but scrutinize every movement. Seriously, this guy?

“…well…as I was—” he says, shifting on his feet.

“British? I honestly didn’t know what to expect. But I didn’t expect you to be British.” I shake my head and widen my stance.

“Yes, well. Here we are.” His arms sprawl wide. He’d look good tied to a tree in that position.

Where the fuck is my drill? I look at the pack sitting at the base of a tree. Ugh.

“Yes, here we are. What do you want?” I take a cautious step toward him.

“Quite simply, I want you to leave.”

Oh yes, sure, I’ll get right on that. Yes. Mm-hmm. I’ll throw two years of work out the window because the big man tells me to. Go fuck yourself, asshole.

“No.” I spit the word out through gritted teeth.

“You’ve done amazing work here. Your garden of flowers is as breathtaking as it is gruesome. But you’re encroaching on my work. A bit territorial, I know…but…”

I can’t hold back the smile that crosses my face. This couldn’t possibly be true. I mean, really. He’s joking, right?

“You mean, this whole thing is because you never learned to share? What, were you sick when they taught that in pre-school?”

His back straightens, allowing him to seemingly grow several inches taller. My voice breaks into a cackle at the absurdity of the whole thing.

“Oh my god.” I continue to cackle. “Let me guess…is someone a wittle jelly?”

I wipe the tears from my eyes and struggle to catch my breath. All humor vanishes as I turn to face him. “You’re just going to have to suck it the fuck up. I’ll leave when I find the man I’m looking for.” I place my hands on my hips and square my shoulders.

“Ah!” He raises a finger. My resolve not to kill him grows weaker by the second. “That’s the other thing. See I’ve been watching you for some time. Turns out I’m searching for him as well. You were just the most immediate issue I needed to deal with. And just for the record – I did learn to share. I didn’t like it. Still don’t. It’s a personal flaw, I admit,” he says bringing his hand to his chest.