CHAPTER 7: The Criminal in My House
(Betty's POV)
"There is no going back now."
His words echo in my skull.
I stand in my living room. The police just left. My hands are still shaking. My heart is still pounding.
Adrain is leaning against the bathroom door. Pale. Sweating. His hand pressed against his side.
The bandage is red again.
"You need to sit down," I say.
"I am fine."
"You are not fine. You are bleeding. Again."
He looks at me. Those dark eyes.
"You are shaking," he says.
"I am fine."
"You are not fine."
I almost laugh. A criminal is telling me I am not fine. In my own apartment.
"Sit down," I say again.
This time, he listens.
He walks to the couch. Slow. Careful. He sits. He leans his head back. He closes his eyes.
I grab my medical kit. Again. Like this is my life now.
I kneel beside him. I peel back the bandage.
The wound is angry. Red. But the stitches are holding.
"You got lucky," I mutter.
"I do not believe in luck."
"Then you got something else."
"Maybe."
I clean the wound. Slow. Careful. I apply a fresh bandage.
My hands are steadier now.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks.
I look up.
"Doing what?"
"Helping me. After what I told you."
I hesitate.
"Because you are bleeding on my floor."
"That is not an answer."
"Because you are a criminal sitting in my house." But I did not say that, instead.
"It is the only one you are getting."
He watches me. I feel his eyes on my face. On my hands. On the way my jaw is tight.
"You are scared of me," he says.
"Yes."
"But you are still here."
"Yes."
"Why?"
I open my mouth.
A key turns in the lock.
My blood turns to ice.
Adrain's eyes snap to the door.
The door swings open.
"Betty! I know you said not to come, but I was worried and I brought food and if you are lying to me about being sick I swear—"
Taylor stops.
Her eyes land on him.
On Adrain.
On the blood.
On the bandages.
On the face she has seen on every news channel for the past week.
The bag of food slips from her fingers.
It hits the floor with a soft thud.
Her mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Then—
"BETTY!"
She screams.
Loud. Sharp. Terrifying.
I move before I think.
I lunge at her. I grab her shoulders. I push her against the wall.
"Taylor. Taylor, stop. Listen to me."
"Let me go!" She is shaking. Her eyes are wild. "That is him. That is the guy. The one on the news—"
"I know."
"You know?" Her voice cracks. "You know and you let him stay here?"
"I can explain—"
"Get off me!"
She shoves me back. Her hand goes to her pocket. Her phone.
"No," I say. "Taylor, do not."
"Give me one reason."
I look at her. My best friend. The person who knows me better than anyone.
"Because I am asking you to trust me."
She stares at me.
Her hand is still in her pocket.
The phone is halfway out.
"Please," I whisper.
She looks at Adrain.
He has not moved from the couch. He is just sitting there. Watching. Bleeding. Saying nothing.
"You saved his life," Taylor says.
"Yes."
"You lied to the police."
"Yes."
"You could lose everything."
"I know."
She pulls her hand out of her pocket.
Empty.
I almost collapsed.
Taylor looks at me. Her eyes are wet. Her face is pale.
"You are in love with him," she whispers.