The water feels impossibly good on my skin, and I reach for some scented bath salts to give me another sense to focus on, something to ground me. Before I pour the salt into the water, I’m struck by the fear that whatever chemicals are in the salts will somehow seep into my body and hurt my baby.
Since I became pregnant, everything has felt like a life-and-death gamble. There are so many things I can’t eat, drink, or interact with. I scan the label on the back of the salt box, tediously combing through every detail and chemical name.
I determine that I should be fine as long as I use it in moderation since that seems to be everyone’s favorite way to excuse self-indulgence. I’m going to adopt that line of thinking as well.
I’m about to slip into a state of unbothered relaxation I haven’t felt in ages. I force myself to breathe, to imagine the oxygen filling up my whole body as I inhale, exhaling the essence of my confusion and anxiety.
I close my eyes, imagining the house I grew up in and the way the sun would shine through my bedroom window as it went down every night. I never even liked that house, but in moments of stillness, I find myself there often in the back of my head.
Just as I risk falling asleep in the water, I hear the elevator door open, and I feel a noxious combination of excitement and dread at the idea of seeing Viktor. It’s unavoidable. He lives here, but I thought I had more time.
More time for what?
Do I really feel that unsafe with him?
I decide to get out of the water anyway, noting that I’ve probably surpassed the amount of time that a pregnant woman should be submerged in hot water for. I reach for a fresh towel and wrap myself in it, too exhausted to try and slip back into my clothes with wet skin.
Stepping out, I find the air to be frigid against my wet skin. Viktor always keeps it a few degrees lower than I’d like it, but he usually offsets that with how warm his body is in bed. I intend to pull him close the moment he steps out of the elevator.
But any joy at seeing Viktor quickly turns to pure panic as I realize that the person in the elevator wasn’t Viktor, but Erik.
I nearly drop my towel. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” I scream, feeling the crushing weight of helplessness caving in my chest.
“I came here to talk you into your fucking senses,” he growls, stepping into the penthouse aggressively. It wouldn’t appear that talking was a part of his plan at all.
“Stay the fuck away from me, or I’ll fuck you up!” I shout, knowing fully that there are no weapons within my reach. I feel like a cat, forcing myself to look bigger than I really am to scare away a predator. It usually works for cats. I don’t think it’ll work for me.
“You’ll fuck me up? That’s adorable,” he says, a horrible smirk forming on his face and making me sick to my stomach. The fact that he can be so cavalier about following me here and breaking in has me under the impression that he’s not scared of anything anymore.
Not even Viktor.
“Nobody’s going to fuck me up, but you’re going to fucking talk to me, and we’re going to get you back at the club,” he insists, walking closer to me and backing me into a corner.
I should have just sprinted in the other direction as soon as I saw him. Now, all I can do is hope he shows some mercy.
Just before he’s about to grab me by the throat, the elevator opens again, and in walks Viktor.
“What the fuck,” Viktor exclaims, immediately pulling a gun from the holster under his suit jacket.
“Don’t shoot,” I exclaim, but as time slows to a crawl, I realize it’s too late.
Viktor fires three rounds right into Erik’s back and side as he attempts to turn around. Erik’s body slumps to the floor, and he lands on the carpet in an undignified, crumpled heap. He never even had time to see who shot him.
My first reaction is to fall to my knees from the fear and adrenaline coursing through my body, as if being on the floor would give me some kind of refuge. My legs fail me, and Viktor immediately runs over to assess me.
“How did he get in here? Did he hurt you?” he asks.
It takes me a full minute and a half of holding back sobs to answer him. “I don’t know how he got in here. I didn’t even know he knew where I lived,” I stammer, shaking so violently that I’m worried I’ll hurt myself if I try to stand on my own.
Erik writhes for a moment, and he begins to gurgle black blood from his mouth as he suffocates on it. The gasping is what gets to me the worst, and the way his eyes bulge from his head in pure terror as his body fails him. He knows he is going to die any moment, and there is nobody here to save him.
“Fucking bastard,” Viktor growls, aiming his gun at Erik again.
“Don’t!” I yelp, slapping the gun down.
Viktor shoots me a vicious look. “I have no mercy for anyone who comes at my woman like that.”
His woman. I guess I really do belong to him. He’s made that painfully clear.
My towel is coming undone now, but I’m too focused on not having a nervous breakdown that I don’t reach to fix it. Viktor reaches over and holds me close, holding the towel closed for me. Even though there was nobody there to see me, I appreciate that he wants me to stay warm.
“What the fuck are we going to do about this now?” I ask, looking over at Erik as he stops moving. “There’s blood all over the fucking carpet. What are you going to do with his body? Why did you have to shoot him?” I ask tearfully. I realize he can’t answer each question at once, but I need all of the answers right away.
“You need to stop panicking and realize that this person clearly came here to hurt you. I was acting purely in self-defense,” he begins, lifting me off the floor and carrying me into his bedroom.
“You’re not going to call the cops, are you?” I ask as he sets me down on the bed. I crawl under the blankets, and I feel like I’m hiding from the reality of what I’ve just witnessed.
I’m fine with it. I deserve to hide a little.
“Fuck no,” he says, almost laughing at my naivety. “I need you to understand that this is not the first person I’ve killed. I doubt he’ll be the last either. I know what I’m doing.”
He walks over to my dresser to find clothes for me and brings me my favorite hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It makes me feel an involuntary warmth to realize that he pays attention like that. Even in the chaos of the moment, Viktor never stops caring about me.
“Let me take care of this mess. You just hang tight,” he says as he places the clothes on the bed.
“Thank you,” I blurt as he starts to walk away. I don’t even know what else to say.
He grins over his shoulder at me as his hand finds the doorknob. “It’s my pleasure.”