Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (29 page)

Walking up to the door, Jasmine hesitated a moment – nervousness becoming her, why did it thrill her so much? The idea of spending time with him, seeing him and holding him. The way that he made her feel was nothing short of incredible.

Was this what it was supposed to feel like?

She rapped on the door three times. No answer. That was strange. She hadn’t seen his bike out in the driveway, but the lights are on – maybe it’s in the garage? “Luke?” She called. She noted the dark yellow curtain that somewhat obscured the living room window. Inside, she noted, there was a massive flat screen playing some black and white horror show that she did not recognize.

On the other side of the door, Kayla’s stomach twisted into sickly warm knots – her heart beating fast against her chest. She should have put a note on the door, that would have made much more sense.

Come inside, come on. I’m going to carve you, you stupid whore.

It killed her inside, the waiting; her fingers coiled around the handle of the knife. There was a painful silence now as she listened closely for Jasmine; she was ready to hide in the coat closet just beside the door – which was purposefully left ajar.

Open it, Kayla repeated in her mind as though it were a mantra.

Fire shot through her veins freely. She took a tentative step forward, and then another – each silent footfall made her second guess herself; could she hear that? Did she leave?

No, no you would have heard her car.

Jasmine brought an ear close to the frame of the door. Chirp, chirp, chirp. The cacophony grew louder; there was nothing else to hear, nothing else to listen for. She stepped back and turned her head, a sense of unease cloaking itself around her. Was someone watching me?

Kayla crept up to the front door, stilled her breath and peered through the peephole.

There was only darkness. Black as pitch.

Chirp, chirp, chirp – the faint chorus of bugs was all that filled her mind and it made her skin crawl; it made her skin crawl to not know – where did she go?

She silently exhaled, smooth as smoke. Kayla then bit down on her lip, rewrapping her slender fingers around the kitchen knife and moving over to the window, which was partially covered by the thick, rustic yellow curtain.

Jasmine moved over to the window, peering as best she could – what was that? It was blurry and dark; it definitely moved. Her pulse quickened. “Hey,” she called out, tapping twice on the window pane with her knuckles, “Luke?” She paused and listened, keeping alert – she was certain now that he would pop up any second and scare her half to death.

But that did not happen.

Jasmine padded back over to the front door and considered a moment before slipping her hand through the gap in the iron door handle. She was starting to get annoyed, figuring that if it was locked, she would go home – if the door was open, she would chew the man out for not saying something.

She pressed her thumb down on the small button of the iron handle. Pushing forward, the door opened slowly – golden light escaping between its crack. Jasmine called out again, opening the door all the way now and taking soft, calculated steps forward. Where the hell was he?

There was only the monotonous drone of the TV and the chirping of crickets.

Jasmine clutched the six-pack of bottled beer in her hand, moving forward another pace and looking around. She glimpsed that the closet door was open maybe two inches, and craned her head.

Shivers ran through her bones all at once, her flesh becoming nothing more than goosebumps – hairs sticking up. She called out Luke’s name and dubbed him king of asshole mountain; trying to push out the weirdness and closing the front door. Jasmine decided that if she could not find him, she would wait several more minutes before taking her leave. One step, and then another.

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. There was a burning sensation just behind her head and above her neck, no larger than a penny – and then, the susurration of feet against floor.

Jasmine twisted, catching sight of two icy eyes and a blade.

Oh god! No! The knife swung down.

Red spurted and a sickly heat bloomed in Jasmine’s right shoulder.

The pain came next, like agonizing needles punching her skin a hundred times over. Then the wail; she heard the bottles of beer crash to the floor before falling backwards.

Kayla fell along with her, grunting as she collapsed on top of Jasmine. Her face was still messed up, flecked with jagged little bits of dark red.

Jasmine exhaled sharply, something horrible escaping the depths of her voice. The knife slipped out, coated in red – a fresh torrent of pain assailing her body.

Ff-huck. “Get
off!
” Jasmine shoved at Kayla with all of her might, pushing her onto her ass.

“You stole him from me,” Kayla wailed, “you
ruined
me!” Crazy fucking bitch.

Jasmine’s heart thumped hard and fast. She desperately clawed at the floor, crawling a couple of inches – each snaking motion sending fresh stabs all over again. She wanted to strangle the life out of the woman and watch her eyes glass over.

Kayla clumsily found her footing and motioned a wild stab.

Stinging in her eyes, Jasmine gave a hard kick to the woman – throwing off her aim; the edge only grazing Jasmine’s knee, drawing a thin line of red.

Kayla’s shorts became wet from the beer and blood, fingers of glass raked along her thigh as she twisted to recover, a yelp escaping her.

Scrambling to get away from her, Jasmine crawled another couple of feet – an ice overcoming her. She pushed herself up to her knees and started to climb to her feet.

Her hand shooting out to catch Jasmine’s foot, Kayla brought the knife down hard.

Jasmine yanked her leg with a great force, only narrowly escaping the bite of the blade. Jasmine redoubled her efforts, a laborious breath escaping her and regaining her footing; her heart was hammering in her chest and when she glimpsed back at the door – she knew that it was too risky to try and move past the psycho.

The knife shaking unsteady in her hands, Kayla started to get to her feet.

Jasmine’s eyes settled on a thick, crystal ash tray resting on the coffee table. Her hand quickly snatched it and she scanned the room for the nearest door – her vision falling on the open bathroom door. Jasmine’s muscles betrayed her, they refused to move, save for the shaking of her legs. Move, move, please god just go!

Kayla found her footing. “Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t prettied you up yet,” She taunted, spying the chunk of crystal and lunging forward.

Jasmine threw the heavy ashtray as best she could at the crazy woman’s head, sprinting hard for the bathroom door.

With an arm coming up to deflect the object, Kayla turned her head away and grunted as the crystal crashed against her; disorientating her a moment. She spat out a curse.

Hands clinging to the walls as she ran, Jasmine found the bathroom, glimpsing Kayla moving towards her as she slammed the door and hastily locked it with unsteady hands.

Bang. The door rumbled against the weight thrown upon it. “You think this is going to keep me out?” Kayla screeched from behind the door.

Jasmine tried to steady herself with a deep breath, retreating several steps backwards before bumping into the sink. She reached for her phone. Shit, shit where is it? Her searching became frantic, the blood rolling down her arm. The pain continued making its presence known, every second sending another fresh wave against her person.

Her heart sank in her chest as pandemonium set in. Somewhere along the way her phone must have fallen from her person. Mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, she turned and looked over the sink mirror – she hardly recognized the frightened face staring back.

Jasmine brought her fingers to the mirror and opened up the medicine cabinet; hastily rifling through the rows of medications. Mostly just vitamins and other junk. Another couple of bangs resounded against the bathroom door. I don’t want to die; the words swam in the dark mire that was her mind. She screamed at the top of her lungs, for someone, anyone, to come and help her. The sound of dark laughter filled her ears at that.

Heart jumping, she noticed the thing of gauze and plucked it from the cabinet. How can you not have peroxide? She spun on her heel and caught something by the end of the bathroom’s tub. A bottle of whiskey; a lighter and a partially filled black ashtray.

Quickly moving towards the tub, there was another bang on the door – another series of threats. Jasmine picked up the honeyed whiskey and looked it over; it was still half empty. Glancing back at the door, she swallowed hard – the first thin lines of sweat forming along her body, soaking into her clothes. If I could just get home, I could suture this up.

If
I get home, she reminded.

Jasmine downed a swig of the liquor, its fiery contents flowing down her throat and settling hard and deep within her stomach. She screwed up her face and pulled the bottle away, taking off her top and sitting on the rim of the tub.

Another bang. This time the door buckled beneath the force. It won’t hold much longer, she thought.

She turned away, keeping her bloodied shoulder steady as she could, the lip of the bottle hovering above it. Just get it over with, she tipped the glass over and howled as though her skin were being melted away.

The door buckled a second time.

Easing her deathly strong grip on the bottle, Jasmine sat the whiskey down and had to fight not to pant. Her eyes stung, their ends welling up with liquid. The image of Luke’s smile danced across the surface of her mind; she would
not
die here to some animal of a human being. Jasmine looked over to the lighter, and then to the whiskey. Heartbeats passed as she considered, craning her head over to the shower curtain. Getting up, she moved over to the curtains as the door slowly but surely continued to give way, she pulled them over once and then pushed them back, her eyes fluttering.

Jasmine grabbed the lighter and the bottle and fled back inside of the tub, the curtains making noise as she slid them from end to end – hiding herself away in a veil of dark red. She waited several moments, trying to be brave.

Like thunder booming, the door finally came down. Jasmine’s heart tapped hard and quick against her breastbone, she could feel Kayla’s eyes already on her – could feel the murderous intent. This’ll work, she thought, just be calm, be calm. Jasmine brought the lip of the bottle to her mouth and tilted it back; she then brought the lighter close to her face, her finger wrapped tightly around the black trigger.

Silence hung in the room, every heartbeat but another tightening of the noose around Jasmine’s neck. Hyper focused on what was in front of her, the sound outside of the bathroom came and went. When the curtain shot to the side and Kayla showed her face, the knife readied in her hand; Jasmine pursed her lips together and squeezed down on the trigger of the lighter, blowing out the liquor. She heard her name being called out.

The liquor ignited and a small cloud of red and orange and blue enveloped Kayla’s face. She dropped and the knife and yowled, cursing between screams, her hands covering her face as she fell backwards and down to her ass.

Exhilarated, Jasmine winced and stepped over the rim of the bathtub, hearing her name called out again – and as she got out, Luke came in.

Luke turned to face the two, his eyes wide and wild with anger. “Jesus Christ, Jasmine!” He shouted, running to her and coiling his big arms around her lithe body. “Your shoulder,” he gasped, “what happened to your shoulder?”

“Luke!” She sobbed, digging her fingers deep into his club jacket and burying her head against the warmth of his chest, her body still shaking and her wound trickling a small, thin stream of blood. “I was so scared,” she confessed, willing herself not to cry openly – willing herself not to look weak. “It needs treatment,” she breathed, “but it didn’t hit an artery.”

“It’s okay,” he said, “I got you,” he repeated the words in her ears; she thought them to be the most beautiful things that she’d ever heard, along with the sound of the man’s thumping heart. Luke looked over at Kayla and cautiously let go of Jasmine, pushing her back behind him.

Kayla’s brows were partially singed, she stood there confounded – seemingly unsure what she should do or say. Jasmine thought that she looked frightened and weak, like a strong wind would threaten to knock her to the ground.

Luke stepped forward, but Jasmine’s hand caught his – prompting him to crane his head back.

She shook her head mouthing ‘don’t’. Jasmine didn’t want the man to go away for murder, not for a pathetic creature such as her.

The man pulled his hand free with a measured violence and made his way to Kayla, placing his boot on the knife. He looked her straight in the eye, “Kayla—“

“Luke I—“

His voice became a deadly shout, “No!” he narrowed his eyes, “Don’t even open up that ugly mouth of yours,” he lifted the woman up by her collar, pressing her against the wall. The whip was in his cruel, low voice, “You’re going to become a ghost,” he said, his face dark and hard lines, “a horrible, horrible little memory that I’m going to do my damnedest to never look back on; you? You were one thing, junkie bitch: a mistake.”