Eluded (2 page)

I've never killed a woman before.
There were other ways of getting rid of them, like dumping them
back in their home country.
Americans.

As I looked around, I noticed
people carried on with the same routine as the crime rates in
London increased. No one was safe, and it infuriated me, but I had
been in a perpetual bad mood for the past fifteen years.

LAUREN

Two

L
ight raindrops tapped on
the window. The water left long streaks down the glass and formed a
small puddle on the wooden seal. I focused on it for a few minutes,
then stared at the streets below. The excess rain formed a stream
that flowed along the sidewalk. Though autumn in London was lovely,
it didn't touch Galveston . . . or maybe I was just homesick for
Texas.

In the kitchen, Henry washed the
dishes from our late lunch. He looked over his shoulder and the
corners of his mouth tugged upward. His love for me was obvious and
showed through his smile. At that moment, I should be the happiest
person in the world . . . but I wasn't. A hole that might never be
filled almost consumed me, but I swallowed it down. I constantly
hid my feelings to not hurt his.

Blue eyes seemed to see straight
through me, coaxing me to come closer. So I did. I stood beside
him, then he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. The situation
reminded me of a commercial that used to run every Saturday morning
between my favorite cartoons. It was a Folgers coffee commercial or
something, and the couple was young and in love. I constantly asked
myself if I was in love, but I could never answer the
question.

Looking out the window, I watched
the sunlight peek through the clouds. The engagement ring on my
finger sparkled from the light in the kitchen. I should be happy,
because the stars lined in my favor, but I felt there was something
missing. Hopefully I would soon discover the internal pushback
before it drove me mad.

My smile faltered just a tiny bit,
but Henry didn't notice. He hardly ever noticed those things. I
wasn’t complaining about him being a simple man who was highly
involved in his work. Some women really liked that. I did at one
time, I thought. Henry wanted a big house with a picket fence,
several kids, a dog, and even a cat. He needed structure, but I
think that was what scared me the most.

After I poured a cup of coffee, I
sat at the table and wrapped my hands around the porcelain, warming
my cold fingertips. I drank half of the cup as Henry finished the
dishes, then I walked back to the bedroom.

He would marry me tomorrow if I
would allow it, but I wouldn't. The part of me that wanted to get
lost in routine said he was the right choice. The other part of me
that wanted to just get lost encouraged me to run. As a child, I
was taught to grow up, get married, have kids, and make my husband
happy. The thought of it sickened me now. Those things didn't
express the person I wanted to be, and I was not sure they ever
would. Deep down inside, when I thought of what my life would
become, a little piece of me wanted to rebel, travel, and be free.
That little piece of my heart told me to live while I could, and I
wanted to listen.

I closed my eyes and twisted the
ring in circles on my finger as the panic attack built. I hated
that burst of adrenaline that coursed through my veins when I felt
trapped. It was almost suffocating. I counted to ten, and it slowly
vanished. When I slipped the ring from my finger, the invisible
chains loosened. A person shouldn't feel that way if it was meant
to be. It wasn't normal. It wasn't fair for Henry. And it wasn't
fair for me.

The vicious cycle roared, and I
began to question my motives and myself.

What the fuck was I doing
here?

Maybe I was having a pre-midlife
crisis. Do most twenty-five-year-olds experience that?

I felt like a square being pushed
through a circle mold. I knew that if my edges were ground to
nothing then smoothed, I could be a circle. But I would always be a
square at heart.

I did love Henry, and I truly
cared about him. We had been together since our freshman year in
college. But I wondered if I stayed because of habit? Habits. Those
were hard to break.

I questioned myself again, but
often the silence was too loud.

I had to get out of the flat. Any
excuse would do. I dressed in blue jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a
light jacket then put on my favorite pair of boots. When I walked
back to the kitchen, Henry was sitting at the table thumbing
through a stack of papers from the office. He didn't know when to
quit working, that one thing about him bothered me. I might not
have to compete with another woman, but when it came to his work, I
knew where I stood.

I opened the pantry and searched
for something that I could purchase at the store that was only two
blocks away. I would take any excuse to get out of the
flat.

Damn. We were fully stocked, other
than a loaf of bread that was half gone.

"I'm going to the grocery on the
corner. Want me to grab some jelly and bread?"

He lifted his head and smiled at
me.

I returned the gesture.

"Sure. Take your phone, just in
case you need me. Do you have your credit card and
passport?"

"I do. Do you need anything while
I'm out?"

"No, love. I'm good for
now."

Then he buried himself back in his
work. I turned the light off in the hallway and grabbed my keys
before leaving.

As I stood on the stoop, I sucked
in a deep breath of fresh air and soaked in the sounds of London.
There was nothing as wonderful as the smell of the earth after
rain. I looked up at the rolling clouds and could tell the rain
wasn't finished yet, but I refused to go back in and grab an
umbrella. I'd rather feel it on my skin—at least then I would feel
something.

I made a left and walked through
the crowds of people. Henry chose the busiest area in London—I
couldn't imagine living here for the next six to eight months, but
it was happening. With each step, I realized just how much I missed
Galveston and the salty brown water that went on until I couldn't
see. With luck, I'd be home before summer. With extra luck, I'd be
home before Christmas.

Only a few more blocks and I would
be inside the store buying bread and jelly that I didn't need. And
then what? I'd go back to the flat and hope to be set free again
tomorrow.

I felt like a caged bird or a
trinket—something pretty for Henry to look at, something pretty for
him to keep. I knew I couldn't continue on this way. Something had
to change.

ABBOT

Three

I
downed three shots of
tequila. It mixed with my blood quicker than normal because I
hadn't eaten since breakfast. The waitress strutted her ass as she
walked to me with that devious smile that said she would rock my
world over and over again if I'd let her. Her tits burst out of the
top of her dress, and I wanted to take her in the back and fuck her
senseless. She handed me a shot of absinthe, and I downed it with
hopes of seeing the green fairy. No such luck. The only way to get
the real shit was to find the moonshiners, the people who made the
old recipe in secret. She ran her fingers up my stomach and through
my hair, then teased me with her mouth. The charade continued for
minutes.

I grabbed her by her wrists and
pushed her away. Fuck, maybe I was becoming jaded to it all. "Don't
fucking touch me." I didn't want affection. I pulled a handful of
money from my pocket, slammed it on the table, and stumbled out the
door. The sun would set within the hour, and I didn't feel like
driving. I needed to walk. I needed to clear my fucking head before
I lost it completely. Instead of calling a cab, I headed home
through the crowds of people. My building overlooked the hectic
part of the city that drew the tourists in, took their money, then
spit them out.

My city breathed as if she were
alive. I smiled when I looked out at the horizon and saw the soft
glow and reflections of surrounding buildings. London. My home. My
city.
Mine.

I continued to walk down the
street as drops of rain fell on my jacket and rolled off. I didn't
care, though. I looked up at the sky and stared at the large
raindrops. Each bead stung my face like pins and needles, but the
pain made me feel alive. This side of London was older, with pizazz
and attitude. The city and I were like old souls
reunited.

The two knives that I kept on my
body at all times rubbed against my skin. The feel of them was
comforting. In less than five seconds, I could pull the knife from
its sheath and protect myself from harm. I almost felt
invincible.

Just as the clouds warned, the
bottom fell from the sky, so I found refuge in the grocery store on
the corner.

When the entrance bell rang, the
man behind the counter nodded his head at me. My face might as well
be plastered on a billboard, considering how many people knew who I
was and what I did for this city. Abbot, the murderer, the Gang
Leader, they said. I've heard people whisper in the streets and
witnessed them pull their children close. All the locals knew I was
dangerous, and I didn’t hide it.

The man behind the counter knew
me. He knew who I was and what I was capable of. He knew I'd killed
people with my bare hands, but he didn't say a word. He didn't ask
me to leave. Why? Because the men I terminated were monsters. They
were the men who raped and harmed women, the ones who stole
identities and kidnapped foreigners. No one missed those pieces of
shit. Not that I was picture-fucking-perfect, but many people
tolerated me. Like I said before, London was my city, and I cleaned
the fucking streets. I ridded them of filthy fucks who tried to
destroy it and take it from me. I might be a rotten apple, I might
be destined for hell, but I killed so my city could have a sense of
peace. Wasn't that fucking ironic?

I looked at the breads while
waiting for the rain to subside and remembered I needed a loaf. Why
were there so many fucking choices? I rolled my thumb in little
circles on my index finger. I seemed to do this when I was nervous
or undecided. When I realized I was doing it, I stopped instantly.
Nervous ticks like that were a sign of weakness. I wasn't fucking
weak.

The little bell above the door
rang, and I heard a soft voice speak to the man at the counter. I
looked over my shoulder and saw brownish-red hair pulled back into
a tight ponytail. She was slender. Genuinely pretty. American. The
accent immediately gave her away. Instantly she looked at me, but I
looked away.

I pretended to look at the bread
in front of me while she thanked the man and walked to where I
stood. She stopped right beside me, so close I could feel her body
heat radiating from her.

"Why are there so many choices?"
she mumbled. She read my mind.

From my peripheral, I watched as
she turned her head and looked at me, but I didn't react. Instead,
I took a few steps forward and picked a loaf of freshly-baked wheat
bread, then walked away.

"Wheat. Good choice," she
whispered.

I slightly turned my head and saw
her pick the same. I paid the cashier and was offered a thin
plastic bag. I had to get out of there. I had to get away from her
before I did something I’d regret.

Instead of continuing down the
sidewalk, I rounded the corner and waited for the woman to exit.
She didn't have an umbrella, and I watched her look up at the rain
as it fell down on her face. She didn't rush through the shower but
rather took her time walking down the sidewalk. I sucked in a deep
breath and released it. She was peculiar, different, and I was
intrigued.

I caught sight of an engagement
ring on her finger and knew that some man had claimed her. Rings
were funny like that. They were a way for dicks to mark their women
so the whole world would know to back the fuck off. Unfortunately
for fiancés, rings didn't stop me.

I followed at a close distance
behind her to make sure no one took her. The shitty plastic bag
that held my bread ripped, so I quickly stopped to throw it in the
trash. When I turned, the American woman was standing beside me
doing the same.

I didn't speak, only stared into
her green eyes. Her pale skin and reddish-brown hair captured me.
Freckles spread across her nose, and when she swallowed, I thought
I saw the hint of dimples. There was something about her that I
wanted. If she were smart, she would have kept walking. But it was
already too late for us both.

I knew she would be snatched up as
soon as they saw her, and I had to make sure that didn’t
happen."

LAUREN

Four

H
is wild blond hair dripped
rainwater from the tips. He didn't speak to me as I stared into his
hazel eyes, but I still turned away. The way he searched my eyes
and lips was intense, almost too much for me to handle.

Before I walked away, I tucked the
loaf of bread into my jacket and stood there for another minute,
staring at the low-hanging clouds. The sky slowly darkened while
the clouds tumbled and rolled above. They somehow described every
emotion I had about going back to that flat—anger and
resentment.