This Is War, Baby - K Webster Page 0,29

of infection infiltrating my life at every turn, and painful, awful ideas of how others could die inadvertently at my hands flit through my mind continuously on one bloody, disgusting loop. The loneliness threatens to devour my soul with its cruel flames and leave my ashy remains behind.

I bought her in hopes that she’d save me.

“Baylee,” I say in a gruff tone, “my world is not one you’re used to. My world is awful—it threatens my life with every passing second. It’s empty and dull and devoid of anything joyful. You’re about to enter that world, filled with fear, hate, darkness, and disgust.”

She narrows her teary eyes at me. “I’ll listen to you. I promise. Just please don’t hurt me. That other man, Edgar Finn, he said he’d…he’d…” she trails off and sniffles. “He wanted to kill me.”

I sigh and shake my head, forcing thoughts of her bloody death out of my head before I begin obsessing over that too. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I vow. “Listen, I’ve never tried this before. If it doesn’t work out, that’s it for me. I’m at the end of my rope. You hold all of the cards now.”

And she does.

All fifty-two of them.

All the blackness of the clubs and spades.

All the blood of the hearts and diamonds.

All the sneers of the wicked jokers.

She is to be my reprieve from the darkness that ebbs and flows inside me—always threatening to swallow me up.

She stares at me with a clouded gaze, her eyes going distant—a mixture of relief, determination, and a slight lingering fear.

“You can’t ever leave, Baylee,” I say through a rush of exhaled breath. Her wariness of me blooms again and her eyes widen. “Look, I’m sorry but I need you for my own survival. Promise me that you won’t ever try to escape, and I vow I’ll never intentionally harm one hair out of the one hundred fifty thousand that exist on your head. Well, aside from the dead ones that keep dropping from your skull at a rate of two point oh six per hour. They’re dead anyway so it doesn’t matter. Edison will remove them from the car though. It’s not your fault. Your body just sheds them. And—”

“I promise,” she interrupts with a choked breath. Concern flashes in her eyes—reminding me of my mother when I was just a boy—and it punches me in the gut.

“Thank you.”

Edison buzzes from the front and his voice comes over the speaker. “Warren, it would appear that we’re encountering an accident on the expressway. The digital sign said that delays could be as much as two hours. I’m so sorry.”

Two hours.

All I can think about is her hair.

Falling and falling and falling.

Two hours added to the hour and a quarter means five point four three hairs at the very least. A familiar crawl begins to agitate my flesh as the Town Car draws to a halt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, bright blue eyes devouring me. It’s clear that she’s curious about me. She won’t find answers. I should know, I’ve been looking for them for over a decade now.

I blink one, two, three, four times before answering her. “Not really, no.”

She leans her head to the side and peers out the window. The frown traces over her features before she forces her eyebrows up. Those eyes seem to dance with a smile and I’m drawn to them. Well, as drawn as someone like me can be to someone like her.

“Those news people always dramatize everything. There aren’t many cars. I bet we’ll be out of here in no time,” she tells me in a shaky yet assuring tone. The corners of her eyes crinkle with what I hope is a smile. “Can you tell me anything about yourself? I’m really freaked out here and I know you said you won’t hurt me but I’m still afraid. You’re not a serial killer, or anything, are you?”

The itch blazes across my flesh and I crave to yank my suit jacket off to claw away at it. But with her in the car—without having been decontaminated—there’s a chance some particle or germ from her could fly onto me. The parasite would burrow its way into my flesh and hatch eggs beneath my skin. And what if it entered my blood stream? Fucking chaos would ensue, that’s what!

“War?” she whispers. “Tell me how old you are or where you live. What do you do for a living