I smash her back against the tree, and then I’m on her. She’s expecting me to fuck her, not to choke her, and I expect no resistance. But that’s my mistake. My head is too foggy with the memory of her lips on my cock. It swings around between us, the cool wind sucking the heat from it, sobering me up.
“What are you doing?” she gasps as my hands constrict tighter around her neck, the sexy pink hue of her cheek turning a dark crimson.
“This has to stop, Amy.” My grip tightens, and she tries to gasp for air, her muted gulp urges me on, and my fingers close around her oesophagus. A quiet exit. Draw no attention to ourselves; no screaming, no mess. That will come later.
“Joe?” Her eyes begin to bulge and red floods her face as I tighten my grip further, and Amy realises what my intentions are. I don’t think she ever gave real thought to how far I am willing to go to protect the ones I love, like my mother and Annie and the girls, and even her I protected her – maybe she never knew how far I went. Or maybe she did.
She starts to struggle. Her hands come to her throat and she pulls at my fingers, trying to pry them off, but I tighten my grip. My heart thunders in my chest, violently ripping my insides. She wheezes and gurgles, the muscles vibrating under the force of my grip. The fight seeps out of her quickly.
In a last-ditch effort she slashes at me. Her nails rip into my neck taking some of my skin with them. “Fuck!” Sweat pours into the small nicks and stings. Now she has my DNA under her fingernails. The minute distraction has me releasing my grip slightly on her, she seizes the chance, kicking me full in the groin where my floppy dick still hangs in the cold.
I crumble.
I roll on the ground, clutching my cock as white pain burns inside my body, slashing its way up my spine and to the back of my eyelids. I groan and try to find air in my collapsing lungs. Amy bends over and sucks in deep breaths. She gags on air and dry retches, clinging desperately to the tree. Her gaze falls on my face, her eyes full of questions.
She sucks in another lungful of air. “What are you doing, Joe? That’s not funny.” Her voice is tainted with betrayal.
“It’s over, Amy,” I spit out in my hoarse voice, shaking in pain and rage. I can’t believe how badly I’ve managed to fuck this up. “We’re done.”
She glares at me, her eyes burning into mine before she straightens up, closing her trench coat. “I thought you were different, Joe, but you’re all the fucking same,” she hisses. “You want me to stay away? You want us to be over? Fine! I can’t wait to forget about you and wish I’d never met you.” She sneers then leaves me there like a turtle on his back.
Fuck.
* * *
Anxiety chokes me. It fills up every part of me like smoke as I wonder where the hell she’s vanished to. I stop over at her apartment, but buzzing the bell achieves nothing. All my texts go unanswered, as do my phone calls. My mind chugs back to the way her eyes grew large, slowly popping out of their sockets, her cheeks flooded with dark angry red.
I drive past the house. Annie’s car is in the driveway and the lights are on. I park my car out of sight down a side street and scour the house, searching for foreign movement.
I should have fixed that fucking window.
I lose track of time and my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. It’s the chief inspector. He never fucking calls. I ignore it, but it rings again and then a third time.
I get back in my car and hightail it to the fucking station.
* * *
Iam a dog with its tail between his legs, castigated and put to shame. There was no lying to Tom. My GPS put me where I shouldn’t have been and all my excuses were lame at best and pathetic at worst. At least he did me the courtesy of sitting through them. When he asked why I was bleeding, my hand flew to my neck, and I started a new string of lies. He stopped me, midway putting us both out of our misery.
Another talking to, another shake of the head, another black mark against my name.
The rest of my shift drags like a wounded snake pulling itself along a blazing road, and my anxiety runs my imagination like a motor. With each passing minute my nerves feel flayed and raw. There is no calmness, not while I don’t have any idea where she might be. I’ve been chained to my desk, no more patrol for me, only the station where I can be watched, like a child. Resentment takes its seat as a passenger to my dread.
I stare at the paper folders piled on my desk and think about Amy. “Fuck,” I say a little too loudly. I ignore the room and pick up a file, flipping it open at random. I stare at the page seeing nothing but my mistakes, my incompetence, and my teeth grind. My jaw aches with tension, and I bolt up, earning myself a few more looks. I sit back down, my hands gripping the arms of my chair, and all I want to do is rip them off and throw them at something.
I suck in deep breaths, reassuring myself, trying to convince myself that everything will be okay. All I have to do is find her, talk to her. She’ll understand. My body begins to believe my lies. The strain in my muscles dissolves and my grip softens. Until I close my eyes and see hers – angry and full of betrayal. I stand up, unable to ruminate in my seat any longer. Williams tracks my movements as I walk to the men’s room.
Leaning over the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror. My neck burns with the red scratch marks as it cords. “You fucking idiot,” I hiss at the reflection, then push off the sink and begin to pace the small space. Thoughts whirl inside my head like a savage tornado. I shake my head, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they persist. I suck in a few breaths and remind myself that I am a policeman. I am smarter and older than her. I have resources, and even though I can’t leave the station while on duty, I’m sure there are ways I can find her. I could go down to the IT department; Chris still owes me a favour. Maybe he can find her phone, give me a location.
I keep pacing, every step bringing more clarity, more calmness. Until it doesn’t. Until the room begins to feel too small and the air too thick and my lungs feel inadequate to hold any air, and I realise that even Chris can’t bypass the tracking and logs. “Fuck.” I growl into the empty room and find my reflection in the mirror. I glare. I stomp over to the sink, my eyes burning, my muscles tense. The angry beast holding me captive takes control of my entire being, and before I can help myself, I smash my fist into the mirror. The air is rent by the sound of fracturing glass. It holds together, and I stare at the multitude of eyes that stare back from the splintered mirror, my heart jackhammering inside my rib cage. “Fuck,” I whisper as I cradle my throbbing fist and walk back to my desk.
At the end of my shift, I bolt from my chair and rush to my car. If the chief saw me reckless driving, I would likely be suspended for good. I don’t care. My body trembles as I drive, my uncertainty becoming a tangible, living force that creeps over me like some hungry beast, gnawing at my core.
I slam the car door and rush inside. Annie gives me a sideways glance, her eyes momentarily settle on my neck, but the girls – having heard the door – come rushing towards me. I hold them in my arms as my gaze sweeps the kitchen. Everything is just the same, normal, and that makes everything somehow worse.
I jitter through dinner and ignore my wife through the movie she picked, deflecting her questions about my injuries, putting it down to a violent arrest. She remains silent, but her eyes sting with disbelief. My gaze constantly flicks to the front door or the back of the house. If Annie notices, she says nothing. I spend the night tossing and turning, listening to my pulse beating in my ears, blocking out every other sound.