Killing Sarai

36

Sarai

They've been in the bathroom for a really long time. But it's none of my business what they do. I left the room right before Samantha started stitching Victor up, resolved to come to my senses and let it go. I feel like I should've stayed to hear the things they talked about at least, since I'm pretty sure some of it was about me and I have a right to know, but it was too intrusive. And I admit, I didn't want to see them together.

Despite feeling some jealousy for Victor, which I realize is only natural given the extraordinary situation I've been thrust into with him, I know that he could never be interested in someone like me, or in anyone at all, really.

Except Samantha and others like her, I suppose.

Regardless of their age difference, I know they've been intimate before. I heard her say it right before I left the room and I like to think I'm smart enough to put together the rest of the picture on my own, knowing what little I do know. Whatever their past relationship I feel like even though she's attractive and obviously a kind and smart woman, those probably weren't the things that brought him here. And it wasn't just the sex, either. It was that Samantha knew all along that sex was all it would ever be.

I'm no expert, but it's just what I believe in my heart. Samantha is like him, maybe not exactly in what roles they play in their secretive world of crime and danger and death, but she knows he's too disciplined and unemotional to become involved.

Victor could probably never trust himself with anyone on the 'outside'. And when it comes to comparing me with them, I am the epitome of the outside.

I stare off toward the curtain-covered window in the spare room where Victor left me earlier. It's pitch black outside even though it's not even nine o'clock yet. I lay on my side on the bed, one arm bent beneath my head underneath my pillow. My feet are cold, but I don't care to get up and break apart a pair of socks from the package Victor bought me, so I press my feet together at the ankles and slide them underneath the blanket.

Victor walks into the room. He leaves the door open to let the light from the hallway filter inside instead of flipping on the switch. I get the feeling he thought at first I might've been asleep.

He's dressed from head to toe in refined sophistication, more-so than I've ever seen him and I can't help but stare across the room at his dangerous beauty. His tall form moves through the path of light at the door and then is bathed in shadow when he approaches the bed where I lay.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes," he says and sits down beside me, his back straight, his hands resting along the tops of his legs.

"Are you going to come back?"

It takes him a moment to answer. He keeps his eyes trained on the window out ahead.

"It will probably be best that I didn't," he says.

My heart lurches. I swallow.

"When Javier is dead, either Samantha will take you where you need to go, or I'll send Niklas for you."

The back of my throat is beginning to burn, the top of my nose, just between my eyes is starting to itch.

I force the tears back.

I don't want him to go at all, much less never come back. I want to stay with him, though I don't know why.

"But what if others know?" I remind him, hoping to change his mind without him knowing the real reason why. "What about John Lansen? What about all of the other men I saw? Victor, they might know and maybe Javier won't be the last to come looking for me." I really don't care if they do. That's not what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of Victor walking out that door and never seeing him again.