CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sitting before the computer, Molly sighed, "And, so, I won't run anymore. You…you don't…can't. You. Can't. Ruin. Me."
With this, her mobile buzzed loudly on the table. Lowering a brow, she disconnected it from the computer to see the text waiting for her.
Greg: TOBY
Molly lowered her brow. Hadn't his mobile run out of battery? Well, he must have plugged it into the car or in the lobby.
Then there came a calm, paced knocking at the door.
Molly stood, knowing that he might have a nervous conniption if she was late for answering the door. Especially in a time like this.
She unlatched the door, letting it swing open with a slight breeze.
Confusion hit her in the face on the other side of the door like a brick wall. She lowered her brows at the mass of red hair on the other side.
"Collin?" She asked blinkingly at the ginger techie. "What're you doing here?"
He smiled breathlessly, elation in his voice as he spoke. "Hey there, Kitten."
Molly's blood froze in her veins as the earth moved beneath her feet. "Why…why did you call me that?"
Then, like lightning, behind her head, she made the connection. Memories flashed through her brain, crowded rides on the Tube, his face stuck in the crowd; walking through Bart's down to the morgue with him covered in a shadow, passing him in the bakery and not thinking anything of it. It suddenly clicked as her throat dried out entirely.
He smiled. "Come on, Kitten, he's gone for now. We have time to get away."
She tried to slam the door back in his face, but found it stopped.
"More games, Kitten?" He asked, chuckling slightly. "Just 'cause I sit at a computer all day doesn't mean I have no muscle, dear. I did boxing in secondary school, remember? But – okay, I'll play – you've got ten seconds."
She slammed the door, switching the lock. Running backwards, Molly ran to the kitchen island.
"Knife, knife, knife, knife." She looked around, blinking madly. "Where are all the bloody knives?"
In her quick sweep over, she couldn't find any knives. There were plates stacked neatly, several cups, and a spatula. Nothing of use.
"Time's up." Collin's voice rang through the door. The lock clicked, and he slid through.
Molly dropped down below the island, trying her hardest not to breathe.
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Collin sang.
Oh, God. Molly thought, wanting to squeeze her eyes together and make it all go away.
From the reflection in the oven, she could make out Collin walking nonchalantly around the cabin, hands buried in his pockets.
"This is actually a really nice place, I'll give Greg that much. Maybe we could come here for our six month, Molly. I know it might be a bit much a bit early, but why not rush, right? We'll be together forever, so it won't ruin anything."
As he looked around, Molly thought she saw something familiar in the way he moved. The way his eyes darted around. He looked oddly similar to Jim. She began to shake.
No. No. No. It's not him. Not the same.
"Remember when we first met? At Bart's, in the cafeteria? When I went to say good-bye to Shaelee? I didn't really understand what you meant back then. Don't think you did either." He talked, moving a gloved finger over a painting, checking for dust. "But, you know, when you grabbed me, wanting someone to save you from that stupid chav Morrison chatting you up, I felt something. I couldn't believe it when I realised you did too."
The memory flashed in Molly's brain. Talking with Billy Morrison in the cafeteria line. She couldn't remember Collin there at all. Wait…she had bumped into the person ahead of her in line, hadn't she? All she remembered was bright green eyes.
Another memory came to mind: the pet shop, when she'd discovered her cards stopped working. The stranger who'd helped her, who'd given her cab fare and paid for the cat litter. He'd had freckles and wasn't a stranger at all.
Collin's face formed in her head. Bright green eyes, short red hair, sprinkling of freckles.
Oh, God. I've ignored everything.
Collin continued. "I've missed you, Molly. It's been unbearable. Just sitting in London, knowing you're up here with that deceitful wanker. Knowing that I can't do anything about it. I've seen his game. Isolating you. Trying to take you from me."
His reflection disappeared from the oven.
Molly held her breath, and slowly, crawled on her hands and knees to try and peek on the other side of the island.
"Found you, Kitten."
She screamed, spinning around to see Collin's face centimetres from her.
Breathe. Flatten your palm. Push up on his nose. Molly moved swiftly as the thought. Conserve energy.
As he withdrew from the hit, she slid over the island, knocking over stacks of plates, running towards the door.
She almost made it out when a set of hands pulled her back. Molly jabbed her elbows as hard as she could into his stomach. He recoiled and she made a run for it. But by then it was too late. Collin blocked the door, hunched over.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to keep her voice even.
"How can you ask that?" Collin said, appearing almost genuinely concerned. "You're in danger."
"Actually, I gathered that." Molly said, backing away from the man opposite her slowly.
"No, no, no." He blinked. "You don't understand. I'm trying to save you."
"Save me? Save me from what?"
"From him." Collin said plainly. "Oh, my God. He got to you, didn't he?"
Molly blinked.
"He's switched it around, hasn't he?" Collin groaned. "Oh, Molly – Kitten, he's the stalker. Not me. You love me. You said it. You meant it. Remember that time we went to Venice together? And you said you'd always love me? It was after that fight about price of hotel rooms."
"I've never been out of the UK." Molly said softly, slowly inching towards the window.
"I knew it." He said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I knew he got to you. I thought my emails – thought I could remind you of all the good times we have. Granted, your opening the door after I tapped into his phone should've told me as much. Remind you how much I care about you. And about how much you care about me."
Molly shook her head, and tried to muster up the courage she had while talking to a web cam, only minutes earlier. "I don't know you."
"You know, Molly. I should be rightly brassed about you whoring yourself out like this. But, it's probably not your fault – see, I like giving you the benefit of the doubt. I like it a lot more than I've liked it before. I've had a change—I'm a lot more understanding than before. Even when we just started dating – I'm better now. Remember that in our future together."
He paced around. Molly looked around herself for something. A fork, even. Something. Anything.
"And don't try to lie and say that you 'didn't do anything.' I'm not that stupid. Remember when I said I wasn't filming? Yeah. I lied. Well, technically I didn't. Did you catch the double negative? Got quite a dirty little video on my memory stick now, you little slut."
Molly's heart skittered, threatening to jump through her chest.
Why did it have to be an electric fireplace? She'd never wanted to see a fire poker more in her life.
"That old bastard probably made you do it, didn't he? Held you down? Don't worry. We can take care of him real soon. I've got a guy, you know – he can get me the craziest drugs you wouldn't dream of surviving. Completely mind-blowing."
Molly looked around. Grabbing a vase on an end table, she threw it at the window. Glass shattered. She tried to pull through it, the shards ripping through her skin. Embedding inside and making her bleed. She was almost through. Then, somebody pulled her back.
"What'd you do that for, Molly?" Collin asked, a firm hold on her arm. She tried to rip it away, as John had taught her, but found herself woozy at the sudden sight and scent of her own blood. "Oh, you've made a mess now. I hate it when you make messes, Molly."
So much blood. How could a window cause so much blood? She looked around, and saw the switchblade in Collin's other hand. She swayed where she stood, knees giving out, and falling into his arms.
"You know. It was torture – fucking torture – to sit there and listen to you scream his name." He shook his head, paused for a moment, and then his lips grew into a twisted smile. "But, don't worry. You'll be screaming my name soon enough."
She tried to shriek, one last time, hope Greg—or anyone was close enough to hear, but Collin took a handkerchief, and shoved it in her face. No sooner had she inhaled than everything went black.