“She is not like other girls. She is so very clean, sometimes she is clearer to me than glass...”
What the hell is he talking about? I don’t know but I don’t like it and I lash the chains over him again and this time I do it so hard that he’s unable to even make a sound.
“You are the reason why I lost a lot of money Mr. Sorkin,” I tell him, dropping the chains and I bend down, picking up my t-shirt before pulling it on. “It would be easy for me to kill you only because of that. But it would be even easier to kill you if I even for one second suspected that you love Lyla and that you think she loves you back.”
His eyes flare with restrained hostility. “And what if she does? You seem to c...care about her.” He says it with difficulty. “How will you explain to her that you killed someone she loves?”
“She does not love you and I won’t explain it. She will never know.” I take a step closer to him. “Mr. Sorkin a button of yours was found in Lyla’s bed. She says she never invited you to stay in her bed.”
At first he hesitates but then Sorkin shoots me a grin that reminds me of a hyena. “Maybe she waslyingto you,” he sneers, all full of himself and with the speed of lightning I pick up the chains going in for the kill when I hear a voice calling,
“Alec? Alec, where are you?”
She must’ve woken up in the middle of the night, wondering why I’m not by her side.
I drop the chains, noticing that Sorkin has gone white as a sheet and he opens his mouth to scream but I shove a rag that’s laying by the bed into his mouth. He drops to the floor, swinging back and forth as if grieving and I turn around, clenching my fists and my aggression only rises the more Lyla calls for me.
What is happening to me is uncontrollable, everything is hurting me, even my breaths. Sorkin hit a nerve and I want to roar in fury as I steer my steps out of the basement with his words pounding in my head.
Maybe she was lying to you...
15
Lyla
I wake up with a twitch, looking around the room in confusion.The night is as dark as if it’s been pained in ink and I must’ve accidentally fallen asleep, my knitting material on the table beside me and there’s a blanket wrapped over me. My lips pull in a smile at Alec’s thoughtfulness and I stretch my neck, expecting to see the big shape of him under the covers but he is not there.
The bed is made like he didn’t even go to sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn, getting up. I’m only in a pair of flimsy, cotton shorts and a tight top that I bought for ballet but then ended up just using it for sleeping and I wrap a thin, grey robe around me.
Maybe Alec has gone off for work, but usually he tells me in the evening if he’ll be leaving so that I don’t wake up and feel disoriented about him not being there. I know it’s a little dramatic of me but sometimes when he’s gone, I feel lost.
Not literally lost, but lost on the inside.
And especially in a house like this one, that sometimes gives me the shivers and I throw a look out the curved windows at the garden, the view of the Hudson River making me feel a little bit better. With my hand tracing the banister, I walk down the staircase, calling Alec’s name.
There’s no answer but this place is so dang big that it doesn’t surprise me. Rounding a corner, I walk through the hallway where the kitchen is. I figure that maybe Alec has gone down to grab a glass of water but to my surprise he comes walking out of a wooden door.
I frown when I realize that I don’t even where that door leads. I don’t even hang out that much on this floor, usually I’m up on the second or the third and I wrap my robe tighter.
“Alec,” I say in a careful voice when I notice that his body language is different. He is holding himself like he is close to detonating, as if something that has been brimming inside of him for a long time is about to bust.
Swatting his head towards me, I freeze at the look in his eyes. Dark, molten hunger that reminds me of an abyss. I inhale, my fingers reaching for the wall as if I am looking for something to hold on to. My arms and legs feel weak and I let out a whimper when he starts stalking towards me.
The shine from the moon rips over his cheekbones, the light giving his lips an almost cruel beauty and his muscles ripple under his t-shirt. He usually never wears them, only when he works out or at other times.
Other times such as the one when he came home and threw his t-shirt into the washing bin and I picked it up the next morning and found blood splats. My stomach drops. What was he doing behind that door...?
“What are you doing?” I say, licking my lips and suddenly I’m thirsty, my throat dry.
“What are you doing?”
Answering a question with a question. His voice is husky, his accent thicker than ever. He’s dressed in black but then again he’s always dressed in black.
“L...looking for you.” Now I’m stuttering, but I’ve never seen Alec like this. Usually he’s icily controlled. He usually doesn’t let me see inside of him. Usually he’s always closed off if even a little.
“Why are you backing away from me?” he asks and I raise my brows as my mouth starts to quiver.
“I’m not backing away from y...you.”