Statistic (22 page)

“Aurora, little did you know… but the first time you met me, you became mine. From that day forward you would always be mine. Just like my wife was. No one ever got the picture that they were mine. Just like you, Aurora. I don’t see why it is so difficult for you bitches to understand.” he lets out a deep breath and starts to walk around the couch. My body tenses, because I instantly think this is the end of my life. He is going to strangle the life out of me, just like he did to that poor girl he threw away like a piece of trash on the river bank. Or at least that is what I assumed when those news stories start to flash through my mind again.

It wasn’t a random crime. It wasn’t a coincidence. I was right all along. He was a killer and now I would be his next victim.

“I’m sorry, Brent. Thing’s could be different.” I say to him with a glimmer of hope in my eyes. False hope I am giving him. Praying he will spare me. I hope that he will take some pity on me because of the time we have shared together as friends, parents. Two people doing our best just to try and bring our children up the right way. I can’t help but worry about Max and what will happen to him once Brent is finally caught for the laundry list of crimes he has been committing. Thinking the law is never going to catch on to him.

“We could be a family. Us, Liam, and Max.” I say, hoping that will buy me a few moments for him to take pity on me. But it doesn’t.

“I would never let my son have a WHORE for a mother.” He snaps, lunging across the couch in my direction. Before he reaches me, I roll off the sofa and onto the floor. My head cracks against the glass coffee table, pain surges through my body, and I can feel the blood begin to pour down my neck and back. Shit that hurt, but the adrenaline is coursing through my body so fast I could be hit by a Mac truck right now and not even notice what happened. As I scramble away from the table with him only inches behind me grabbing and reaching for my leg, I remember the hammer only mere feet away. The same one I had been using to hang up pictures, as I reflected on my life before he interrupted my peaceful evening.

Would this be how I die?

At the hands of a man I mistakenly built a friendship with. A man I met on one of those dating websites I had been dead set against using for all this time. A man who had such little regard for me and my child that he would murder me in the home that we share without a shadow of care in the world. Would Brent make me a statistic?

I round the side of the couch, eying the front door and wondering if I could make it out of the house. Another possible escape, a way to save my life since the hammer seems too far out of reach to lunge for without him noticing me. Someone in the neighborhood would be bound to see what was going on and come to my rescue, if I could just make it to that door. Looking at Brent and then back to the one chance of freedom I have. I say a silent prayer and make the choice to bolt for the front door.

My legs don’t carry me as fast as I want them to and as I pass by the couch, Brent jumps over the backside of the sofa, tackling me to the floor. My injured head thumps against the hard wood floor and instantly I throw up. The horrible smell makes me continue to gag, but doesn’t faze him at all. The trauma to my head is too much for my body to take, but Brent doesn’t care. He isn’t fazed by the vomit and he presses my body to the floor. His legs straddle my chest and I begin to struggle to breath.

His weight on my body is just too much for me. I can’t move my arms to even try and free myself from his grasp. I struggle and he does nothing but stare at me with clouded emotion and pity in his eyes. I stop struggling with the one idea of saving my energy to try and catch him off guard. Even with a haze setting in, my judgment remains somewhat rational.

Survival is my only goal. Living to see tomorrow, raise my son, teach him to ride a bike or graduate high school. But, the thoughts of my future don’t last long at all. Soon they are replaced by the certain death I face.

It is amazing how clear things become in the moments before you die. Your life replays like a small movie screen with everything from your first memory to the biggest regrets you have lived with. An eerie calm falls over you and gone is the concern you feel about everyone else in the world. Only replaced with the spiritual journey you are about to embark upon. In my mind I forgive those who have caused me pain.

My mother is forgiven for the shitty childhood I had once my father walked out on us. Colin is forgiven for his infidelities and his nasty words. The mountains of hurt he caused, and the insecurities he caused in me, I know I would never be able to overcome. The doctors who botched my delivery with Liam are forgiven and the last person I lay on the floor and begin to forgive is the same man who is about to take my life from me.

As Brent’s hands wrap around my throat, the room begins to darken. I can hear his heavy breathing and sniffles as if he is crying as he begins the short process of taking my life.

I can only wonder what goes through the mind of a killer as they kill their prey. But, not knowing is probably my only saving grace at this moment.

In my last effort to save my life, I whisper the three words I am thinking in my mind.

“I forgive you.”

And the room goes silent.

My eyes fly open as I begin to gasp for air. The brightness of the room burns my eyes, but I feel like a weight has been lifted from my body. Like someone just virtually shocked the life back into me. I let out a scream and I hear a loud bang echo through the living room. At least I am pretty sure I am still in the living room of my new home.

I try to sit up, but I can’t move. I blink to see what is keeping me from moving and that is when I see the full extent of the scene in front of me. And I can’t help but scream bloody murder when I see Brent’s lifeless body laying across my legs.

A pool of blood grows around the spot I stay planted in on the floor. Seeping through my jean shorts, and into the white accent carpet I had just put down that morning. Instead of worrying about the dead man laying in my lap, I look at the carpet with pity. My body and mind have completely disconnected from my emotions and I stare blankly at the scene before me.

It doesn’t register with me that this man just tried to kill me. Strangle the life out of me in my own home. The swarm of police officers decend on the room from all angles. Some run in through the front door, others make their way in through the french doors that lead into my back yard. In the middle of everyone stands Jackson barking orders at all the men. As if he was somehow in charge of this operation. The crime scene my living room has just become.

I look down again, seeing Brent’s lifeless body laying across me and that is when I realize there is actually a dead or dying man laying on me. Pinning me to the floor.

“GET IT OFF OF ME! GET HIM OFF! HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP ME!” I shriek through the crowded room. My delayed reaction stunning some of the men surrounding me to help. After the parade of police officers starts a group of emergency medial technicians. All surrounding me first, pulling my body in every which way that will get the weight of Brent off of my legs and to some kind of safety.

I can’t keep it together anymore. The hysterics begin with a steady stream of silent tears which turn into a loud sob only moments later. As the medical team surrounds me, checking all the bangs and bruises all over my body and carefully examining the cut on my head, I can feel a familiar touch. Arms wrap around my body that are so familiar to me. But in my state they are also so damn far away. I struggle to process everything. To understand what exactly is taking place. Who would do this? Why would this happen? Why would this man target me? What did I ever do in my life to deserve this kind of attack? Did I really deserve to die?

The questions keep coming and I have no way of answering a single one. I am shocked that I remember by name when one of the medics asks me.

“Aurora. Aurora Alexander.” I whisper.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise you that.” I turn my head towards the familiar voice and I see Jackson sitting on the floor next to me with his arms wrapped around me. I lean my head against his chest, and wrap my fingers around his hand while the strangers swirl around the room like a tornado of investigation.

“Miss Alexander, can you stand?” one of the medics asks. I shake my head yes in reply and slowly try and get on my feet. My body aches all over. I can feel all the places that were injured when I finally decided to fight back. Fight for my life. But for what? To live with the constant memory of everything that has happened to me now? All because of the fact that I wanted to meet men. I met a man alright. The man that almost fucking killed me.

I can feel my emotions beginning to shut down. All the opening I have done over the past year and change disappearing like it never even existed.

An older gentleman with a police badge follows myself, Jackson, and the medic to the back of the waiting ambulance.

“Officer Revere is going to accompany you to the hospital. If you can give him a statement on the way, that would be extremely helpful.” the man says, before turning away and whispering something into Jackson’s ear.

“Officer?” I ask in shock, looking at Jackson. I would push him away, but I just can’t move my body. My arms are too heavy, and all I want to do is fall asleep.

“I’ll explain everything. I promise Aurora.” But, it is too late. I don’t want to know or even care at this point. One thing I know for sure is that when I finally return to the house, once I can cross that bridge, the happiness I finally had let into my life, even if it was just for a brief moment in time, would be over.

And the worst part of it all is… I really just don’t care.

“Colin won’t be bringing Liam back tonight. He knows that Mommy is sick and is in the hospital. He is content staying with Colin and Jillian for a couple extra days and Jillian is off for maternity leave so there is someone to watch him.” Miss Pam said, standing on the other side of my hospital room next to a vase full of flowers she brought.

I never realized simply seeing flowers in a glass vase would become such a trigger. But now, all I can think about is Brent breaking into my house and trashing the flowers that Wesley sent me after our date.

The laundry list of visitors has been non-stop.

Jackson has been here a dozen times. But I am just not ready to talk to him. Other officers have come and gone, but no one wants to take my statement but the one officer that has been working this
case
for quite some time apparently.

The injury I suffered when I either hit the coffee table, or when Brent tackled me onto the hard ass floor has done a bit of damage, so I am stuck in this bed for two days at the least. Concussions aren't fun by any damn means. All I want to do is go home. Home as in the house I once shared with my ex-husband who is not shacked up with another woman in. It is the only place I can remember feeling safe in. The only place that has been somewhat of a home to me. Since growing up, I never lived anyplace long enough to make a home with my mother.

The same mother who will no doubt call me a couple times pretending to be concerned now that Pam has called her and then stay on the other side of the country because it would be far too inconvenient for her to make anymore of an effort than dialing a phone.

“I’m gonna leave you to rest a little bit. But I will be back here in the morning. Maybe if you are lucky I can spring you outta this joint.” Pam laughs as she presses a kiss to my forehead and makes her way to the door. Outside, I can see the uniform of an officer guarding my door. I roll my eyes and think about Jackson.

And speaking of the devil, the door to my room opens once again, and he walks in. Before either of us speak, he holds his hands up in defense and speaks.

“Please hear me out. I don’t have a lot to say, but everything is the truth. I promise you that.” Jackson says, as he sits down in the chair next to my hospital bed. There are so many emotions I feel right now, thinking about how he lied to me. So many lies. Our entire relationship was just one big lie based on his undercover case.