would have. I don’t honestly believe I’m in danger. They’ll know I won’t make a reliable witness anyway. I had so much alcohol in me. We weren’t blind drunk, but no jury is going to trust a witness that downed more than ten shots of tequila before claiming she could identify a bunch of guys in the dark.
The cops must know that. Blake is fucking with me. Emotionally and mentally. I have less reason to trust him than he does to trust me. Is this some kind of reverse psychology they teach them in the academy, or is he actually just screwed up ?
Whatever the truth is, there’s one thing that’s abundantly clear to me now. I need to get out of here. I’ll go back to the hotel. They have my driver’s license number and picture on file, so I’ll be able to get at my clean clothes and money. Most of all I’ll be able to think. My laptop is there if I want to write. There’s security.
The hotel is probably safer than this building is now. In fact, I’m sitting alone in the café, on the ground floor, with no Blake around. If someone was coming for me, this would be the perfect place. That’s it, I’ve had enough. I motion to the girl behind the counter for the bill, and decide to let her keep the change. I take the last bite of my donut, wipe my fingers on a napkin, and make my way down the hallway.
I take big breaths as I wait for the elevator. I need to be mature and clear. I cannot let him convince me to stay. By now, I’m sure he’s calmed down and will be all ‘I’m so sorry for yelling.’ It’s not good enough. My clit may be betraying me but I’ve made up my mind. Sorry is not enough right now. It’s not okay to go all ‘bad cop’ on me without warning. I can’t handle any more surprises today.
The button pings and lets me out on Blake and Brenda’s floor. I get to the door and knock gently. He opens it up almost instantaneously. He must have been waiting inside for me. I wonder how much longer I would have had to stay down there before he came down to get me. This man is a control freak with anger and trust issues. But he’s so hot! I can’t help but notice his tight ass in those pants as I follow him into the room.
He turns to look at me. As expected, there’s regret on his face. I expect some groveling—either that or some serious professing of his love or something. The first words out of his mouth aren’t sorry. Instead, he asks if I’m hungry.
“No,” I tell him, and move away from him, towards one of the bar stools. I need to put some distance between us to deliver the news. “Blake, I want you to take me back to the hotel. Now.”
I’m firm. I’m not letting the seriousness of my demand leave me face.
“No, Carrie. That’s not a good idea. You’re in danger. You know those guys will be looking to tie up loose ends. You can’t be alone.”
I stand my ground. “I’m alone for most of the day anyway, you leave me here, and you come home and take your shit out on me. I want my life back. I want my shampoo. I want to wear my own clothes and I want to start pulling myself back together. Tell your boss whatever you want. Tell her to send an officer to my door. I don’t care anymore, Blake. I’m not staying here another minute!”
Now I’m the one yelling and I can tell that it’s working when his shoulders drop.
“You’re right. I’m sorry I lost it, there’s a lot riding on this case. I could lose my job. You know why I don’t trust the press.”
I shake my head at him. “Not good enough, Blake. Take me back now.”
I stand up, cross my arms over my chest and widen my stance. I’m still a couple of feet smaller than him, but it doesn’t matter. I feel strong. I need to get out of here before I’m pulled back into him. As I look up at him, a wall of guilt hits me hard. I start to wonder if he’s really at risk of losing his job over this. I want to be the person who doesn’t give a damn, but I can’t help it. Instead of anger in his eyes, I see fear.
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