“I'm perfectly aware of where I stand in that department, my dear. The taboo is my specialty after all. Now, where do you get off telling me what to do?”
“I'm not telling, Lucas. I'm making a suggestion. If you don't like it, don't do it. I'm just trying to help. Make Clarice a murderer, make her pull the trigger, wield the knife, whatever. If you have shit on her, she has nothing on you. I doubt a princess like that would be keen on losing her lifestyle, no matter how batshit crazy she really is.”
“I'll think about it,” I tell Audra and then I hang up, my heart pumping furiously inside my chest. Yes, the monsters whisper, cooing and biting and snapping at my heels, you should do this. It only makes sense. It's the only way.
I toss my cell onto my bed and run my hands over my head, fingers getting caught in the few snarls that have developed overnight. Disgusting.
I get up and decide to shower, trying my best to think over this plan as I do. Even as my hand drops to my cock and wraps around the shaft, I'm imagining the best possible scenario. Take Clarice and Audra to this dump, find our prey, hunt him like a pack of wolves. The idea, the very thought of blood, gets me so excited that I loose my load almost immediately, coming on the tiled wall of my shower like a teenage boy in heat.
It all makes sense. Except for the inclusion of Audra. There's honestly no reason for her to be there at all. Clarice is much more likely to go along with the scenario if she's not in the picture. Somehow, though, it doesn't sound like as much fun.
“Fuck.” I climb out of the shower and dry off. My cock is already back to a raging hard-on that aches and cuts into my slacks. It doesn't help that as I'm buttoning up my shirt, I approach the window and see Robbie standing in her front yard. Her father is on the driveway, his car door wide open, and the two of them are yelling at one another. I sincerely hope this has nothing to do with me. She is beautiful though, isn't she? My hand drops down, unconsciously cupping the bulge in my pants.
Robbie's beautiful lips open and close as she says something I'm not privy to and retreats back inside her house. Almost as if he can sense me looking at his daughter, Mr. Carrell stops midway into the front seat of his car and climbs out. When I see he's coming straight for me, I curse and retreat back to my room for my suit jacket and tie. If I've learned anything in life, it's that it's a hell of a lot more difficult to argue with a man in a well-pressed suit.
Before Mr. Carrell even has a chance to knock, I'm opening the door and peering out at him.
“Can I help you?”
“Help me?” he asks, voice getting squeaky with barely suppressed violence. His blue eyes flicker every which way, and he won't stop running his hairy hand over his head. “You sure didn't give a shit about helping me yesterday morning when I thought my daughter was out there somewhere raped and murdered.”
“I was only trying to keep Robbie out of trouble,” I say a few seconds before his fist flies out. I snatch it up with my right hand and push him back, so that we're both standing on the front porch. “Mr. Carrell, I don't particularly enjoy engaging in fistfights on my own front porch. If you'd kindly leave,” I force myself not to grit my teeth on the word, “I'd much appreciate it.”
“You fucked my daughter,” he says, and the words surprise me. I am getting sick and fucking tired of being surprised. “You fucked my baby girl.” The words spewing from his lips send me into a sky high rage, one where I'm seeing swirls of red and violet that block off my true view of the world.
“She's hardly a baby,” I snap when all I should be doing is denying the accusations. “Legally, she's an adult.”
“Like hell she is,” Mr. Carrell screams, charging at my midsection. I manage to push him back, letting him fall to his ass without harming him in any way. I have to keep this tame for everyone's sake – especially Robbie's.
“And I didn't 'fuck' her,” I say, making quotes with my fingers. “All I did was keep her here until the drunk wore off.”
“She says she's in love with you,” Mr. Carrell snarls, wiping at his suddenly sweaty face. When he looks up at me, all I see is hate burning bright, the same hatred that spurs me to find men like my father, like Audra's father, like Mark and blight them from this earth. “In love. My baby. With a grown ass man. What is wrong with you?” His words cut me, even though I pretend they don't, that I don't care, that it really is possible to be a teenager again. As if I really could start over and have a fucking life.
“Dad!” It's Robbie this time, running up the steps with a red face and eyes blazing with shame. I know she didn't tell him explicitly what might've happened between us, but she did admit her feelings and that was enough for him to put two and two together. Love? She can't possibly feel that way about me. We may have lived next door to one another for years, but we weren't that close. Only recently have we even spent more than a few minutes together. It's not possible, not for her, not for me, and I feel sick to my stomach for even hoping deep down that it could be true, someday at least if not today. “What are you doing over here? I told you, he didn't lay a finger on me. I just like Luke, okay?”