I know if I don’t stop her, she’s going to kill me. And that is a scary thought. But the one that haunts me more is knowing she wouldn’t stop with me. It’s not Eli I’m worried about—between the two of them, Eli would come out on top. But she’salwayshated Graham. And he’s always hated her.
She will go after him once I’m gone just to spite me.
And I can’t let that happen.
40
Stay With Me
Eli's Search History: how to tell your girlfriend that you're never leaving her side again?
Eli
“Angel?!”Iscreamintothe phone, but there’s no answer. The call ended.
My bike skates across the tarmac, taking corners at speed, blowing through red lights. None of it matters. Only her.
I try calling again. Nothing.
The muscles in my jaw tighten and pulse. A cold sweat lines my skin.
As soon as I’m close enough, I slam on the brakes, not even making it into the drive before I’m throwing myself off the bike, letting it slam to the ground as I take off running.
Fuck. My keys are still in the bike.
I kick my way through the front door, letting it explode off the hinges.
But then I’m coming to a horrified stop. My entire bodybecomes impossibly still as I take in the sight in front of me with wide darting eyes.
Destruction is everywhere. Picture frames hang askew. Drawers are thrown open. A vase smashed.
But it’s the blood that has my own turning to ice.
“Angel!” I cry out again, my legs unfreezing as I follow the path of crimson spatter into the kitchen.
Red liquid pools by the cabinets, streaks of it marring the counters.
My pulse roars in my throat.
Back in the hall, the blood leads upstairs.
The house is entirely silent. That has my legs turning to lead, each step an arduous task as the weight of fear seeps into my bones.
At the top of the stairs, there’s more destruction. A table overturned, a plant pot tipped over, dirt smudging the carpet.
And more blood.
I take a step and then hear a very distinct meow coming from the main bedroom. I jiggle the doorknob. It’s locked.
The mewing grows louder.
“Watch out!” I call, before I’m kicking at the door.
Wood splinters.
Then Graham is leaping at me. I catch him, clutching him tightly to my chest. “Where’s mummy?” I ask him, stroking his head while I scan the room. It appears untouched, save for the cat scratches marking the walls and flooring.
Keeping hold of Graham, I back out of the room.