stands outside of my door as I stare out the front, then Batty grabs the seatbelt and latches it for me with a sigh.
I don’t move. I don’t think the whole ride home. The same reel keeps going through my head. Laughing, asleep . . . my mind won’t accept anything else than asleep.
Batty’s face, without the mask, brings me back to the present; he’s unlatching my seatbelt. I look around.
“You’re home,” he says unnecessarily. But I don’t have my keys. I tell him.
“Don’t you have a spare under a rock or something?” he asks impatiently.
I look around my yard. My mind not able to process. A rock?
Batty’s hand on my bicep gets me moving to the front porch. The light is on, so Batty leaves me to start kicking over first the front mat, then rocks in the yard.
“It’s shit.”
Batty keeps kicking rocks down the front of the house, ignoring me. He seems to be getting madder he goes along.
“It’s in the shit,” I call after him.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. He’s pissed. Why? I point to the center of the yard.
“I don’t have a yard. That pile of shit is a hide-a-key.”
He stalks over to it in the dark. “I’ve been doing this for ten minutes and you tell me now?”
“Ten minutes?” I ask, not believing it’s been that long. Didn’t we just get here?
“Jesus Christ,” he growls, throwing the plastic crap over his shoulder and walking past me to the door. He walks right into my house, and I follow. I watch him put in my security code.
“What the fuck?” I ask, some life coming back to me as I watch him.
He turns back to me, again walking past me to the kitchen. “I’m not blind. You put in the code right in front of me. Should probably change that shit.” He’s slamming cabinet doors. “Don’t you have any booze around here?”
I shake my head. “I’m an addict.”
Batty stops and looks at me. “You aren’t an addict.” He says it like he knows for certain.
“Yes I am. Have the rehab graduation certificate to prove it.” I lick my lips and look around the room, not really seeing anything.
“Sadie?”
My head turns but he doesn’t say anything else except my name. I raise my eyebrows. What does he want?
“Well, I was going to give you a shot to bring you out if it, but it looks like I don’t have a choice?” he says as he stalks over to me. I have enough sense to back up. The side of the stairs stop me.
“Choice?” I ask
He reaches for my wig, the tiara clattering to the ground when he takes it off. Next is my mask, but it gets caught in my hair, since the band holding it up was put on before I put my hair up. He patiently unbinds my hair.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
Those eyes. They meet mine, and I’m swirling in them, instead of my own thoughts. “Finding you.”
His lips move against mine, closed, but only briefly. He opens them, effectively opening mine with them and slips his tongue inside. Batty’s tongue coaxes mine out, lifting it, sucking it until I come to play. When his hands grab my face, then move into my hair, pulling on that edge of pain, I stop seeing Rachel for the first time.
I lunge for it. Desperate to leave the day’s events, I twine my fingers through his hair and return the favor. He groans into my mouth and I catch it, swallowing the sound deep in my throat. One of Batty’s hands stays in my hair, pulling hard while I fight against it to keep the sting. The other goes to my ass, gripping hard, pulling me into his erection. I grind against him, frantic to keep this feeling.
I feel the digging of the stairs fall away when he pulls me deeper into the house. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care.
He picks me up with that one arm. I fully appreciate the gesture, wrapping my legs around him seconds before he sits. I open my eyes, first seeing his lips, a brief glimpse
I don’t move. I don’t think the whole ride home. The same reel keeps going through my head. Laughing, asleep . . . my mind won’t accept anything else than asleep.
Batty’s face, without the mask, brings me back to the present; he’s unlatching my seatbelt. I look around.
“You’re home,” he says unnecessarily. But I don’t have my keys. I tell him.
“Don’t you have a spare under a rock or something?” he asks impatiently.
I look around my yard. My mind not able to process. A rock?
Batty’s hand on my bicep gets me moving to the front porch. The light is on, so Batty leaves me to start kicking over first the front mat, then rocks in the yard.
“It’s shit.”
Batty keeps kicking rocks down the front of the house, ignoring me. He seems to be getting madder he goes along.
“It’s in the shit,” I call after him.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. He’s pissed. Why? I point to the center of the yard.
“I don’t have a yard. That pile of shit is a hide-a-key.”
He stalks over to it in the dark. “I’ve been doing this for ten minutes and you tell me now?”
“Ten minutes?” I ask, not believing it’s been that long. Didn’t we just get here?
“Jesus Christ,” he growls, throwing the plastic crap over his shoulder and walking past me to the door. He walks right into my house, and I follow. I watch him put in my security code.
“What the fuck?” I ask, some life coming back to me as I watch him.
He turns back to me, again walking past me to the kitchen. “I’m not blind. You put in the code right in front of me. Should probably change that shit.” He’s slamming cabinet doors. “Don’t you have any booze around here?”
I shake my head. “I’m an addict.”
Batty stops and looks at me. “You aren’t an addict.” He says it like he knows for certain.
“Yes I am. Have the rehab graduation certificate to prove it.” I lick my lips and look around the room, not really seeing anything.
“Sadie?”
My head turns but he doesn’t say anything else except my name. I raise my eyebrows. What does he want?
“Well, I was going to give you a shot to bring you out if it, but it looks like I don’t have a choice?” he says as he stalks over to me. I have enough sense to back up. The side of the stairs stop me.
“Choice?” I ask
He reaches for my wig, the tiara clattering to the ground when he takes it off. Next is my mask, but it gets caught in my hair, since the band holding it up was put on before I put my hair up. He patiently unbinds my hair.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
Those eyes. They meet mine, and I’m swirling in them, instead of my own thoughts. “Finding you.”
His lips move against mine, closed, but only briefly. He opens them, effectively opening mine with them and slips his tongue inside. Batty’s tongue coaxes mine out, lifting it, sucking it until I come to play. When his hands grab my face, then move into my hair, pulling on that edge of pain, I stop seeing Rachel for the first time.
I lunge for it. Desperate to leave the day’s events, I twine my fingers through his hair and return the favor. He groans into my mouth and I catch it, swallowing the sound deep in my throat. One of Batty’s hands stays in my hair, pulling hard while I fight against it to keep the sting. The other goes to my ass, gripping hard, pulling me into his erection. I grind against him, frantic to keep this feeling.
I feel the digging of the stairs fall away when he pulls me deeper into the house. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care.
He picks me up with that one arm. I fully appreciate the gesture, wrapping my legs around him seconds before he sits. I open my eyes, first seeing his lips, a brief glimpse
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