Page 68 of When Sinners Hate
He came for me.
The tatters of the dress hang from my frame, and I do my best to cover myself and be patient, banishing the shake that’s set in from the mix of fear and adrenaline.
He seems unable to calm, though, pacing the room, going back towards the bathroom and staring inside before heading back out. My apology – my explanation – and the need for him to believe me build in my chest, desperate to escape and be heard, but I stay silent and watch.
He pauses outside of the bathroom door and then enters. Sloshing noises and a thud follow, and then silence.
“You. Don’t. Ever. Touch. What’s. Mine!”
The crack of something solid hitting repeatedly punctuates each word, making me wince in my seat. He’sbeating on a dead body, still furious. I can still see my husband’s vicious face looking down at the drowning man from before, but now … I don’t even know what to do with that thought, so I keep staring towards the bathroom and watch as a red shadow of blood and water creeps across the carpet.
A knock from the other side of the main splintered door forces Abel from the bathroom, and Dante comes in. He looks over the situation without a word, then to his brother as he paces, and finally at me. His face is harsh and intimidating, and it keeps me from saying a word until I’m spoken to.
“What the fuck?” he cusses, as he enters the bathroom.
“Don’t fucking start. Deal with it!" Abel roars in his face. “I want him gone. I want it done, and I don’t want to answer a single fucking question about why!” I feel myself shrink, still unsure if Abel believes I slept with the guy or not.
The throb on the side of my face begins to lessen, but I can still feel that man’s hands around my neck. The pressure’s almost still building in my face from when he restricted the blood flow and my breathing in his attempt to rape me.
Dante looks between us, a question in his eyes as he starts pulling supplies from his bags. Plastic sheeting, gloves and … tools are unpacked. “Help me with this shit.” He looks to Abel, who’s looking out the window, his head tilted skyward. “Abel?”
“What!” he barks, storming towards Dante and squaring up to him.
“You’ve got to cool the hell down.”
One hard shove sends Dante stumbling backwards. “You back the fuck up, or I’ll keep going. Get this shit done.”
“Abel, please,” I interject, hating that he’s screaming at his brother, who’s come to help him with a dead fucking body.
He spins and points at me. “I told you to sit and be fucking quiet.” I nod and drop my eyes to the ground.
I sense more than hear footsteps approaching after a while and see worn boots, not the smart style shoe Abel prefers.
“Lexi, look at me.” Dante’s voice is surprisingly calm. I raise my gaze and look at him. “What were you doing in a hotel room with that scum?”
My eyes flit between him and my husband standing guard, still staring at the body. Finally, I look up at Dante.
He looks me dead in the eye. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No.” I shake my head vehemently and wrap my arms around myself. “This looks bad, but I didn’t come here freely. And if Abel hadn’t come when he did…” I don’t finish the sentence and leave it up to Dante to put the pieces together.
“Has he spoken to you?”
“Abel? No. Told me to stay here and be quiet,” I whisper.
He nods and looks away.
I watch him approach Abel and lay a hand on his back. He flinches, shoving it off, and Dante steps out of view.
Pulling my legs up beneath me, I block out what’s happening in the room as Dante makes a phone call. I know my father has had people killed. I’m sure the Cortezes have, too. But seeing it, and hearing it, is sobering. The items Dante came in with are what they’ll use to dispose of his body, but I’m not sure how they’ll get rid of the blood. It’s in the tub, on the floor and seeping into the carpet, tarnishing everything like a rotten stain.
I shut my eyes and breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose, blocking out the noise. Block out everything.
A man I don’t know arrives a while later. He whistles as he pushes the door wide, breaking my spell of hiding in my head, then looks over the scenario laid out in front of him. Abel just stares, not trying to hide what's happened here in any way. There isn’t a body to be seen anymore. But there’s no hiding the remnants of blood still staining the floor.
“Someone’s been having fun,” he says as he closes the door and walks in. He looks me over, and I watch as Dante steps in front of me. “Who did it?”
“Me," Abel snarls. “Let's call you dealing with this room a favour owed.”