| |
ONE WEEK EARLIER...
The day after Vega was released from jail—for beating Kelli— I wasn’t feeling well. The flu had been going around, so I left work early. With my head pounding, I had quietly made my way into the house, and then upstairs to my bedroom. My cat, Oscar, had followed closely on my heels but hadn't purred like his normal self. If I had been feeling better, I probably would have made more noise and alerted Vega, who was stuffing my great grandmother’s jewelry into a backpack. He had drunk a bottle of my Stolichnaya and a second partially empty bottle was sitting on the dresser by the door. Stoli martinis were my go-to drink and Vega had already polished off a months’ worth.
Vega had suddenly turned, hatred and madness visible in his bloodshot eyes. He had stumbled toward me and slurred, “You bitch. I’ll make you pay for turning Kelli against me.”
Before he could grab me, I had pulled my stun gun from my purse and pressed the metal prongs to his chest. The instruction booklet and video that came with the stun gun had demonstrated the effects of holding it to an assailant for one-to-two seconds, versus three seconds. One-to-two seconds was recommended. Three seconds could cause loss of muscle control, balance, and disorientation. Just to be safe, I had continued to press, but I had lost count after three seconds.
He had collapsed to the floor and twitched a bunch. The alcohol could have intensified the effect. For a moment, he had looked like he was possessed by an evil being, flopping around the way he had and then he was out cold. It had really creeped me out.
I checked his pulse to make sure I hadn’t killed him—it was still going strong. That was sort of a relief. I figured, I only had one choice, to put Vega in the basement until I felt better and could think straight.
He wasn’t a large or particularly muscular guy, but he was dead weight. I had grabbed a bedsheet from the hall closet, and after a lot of struggle rolled him onto it. I grabbed the edge and pulled him a few inches toward the stairs when his arm had fallen off the sheet, got caught on the base of a floor lamp, and toppled it over. Luckily, it hadn’t broken—the lamp not his arm.
I slid to the floor, my heart raced and I hadn’t even moved him a foot. It seemed like an impossible task. Knowing I had to get his loser-ass down two flights of stairs, and into the basement bathroom before he woke, propelled me a foot at a time. Halfway down the stairs, I lost my footing, and with the momentum of me falling back, pulled Vega halfway on top of me. I kept chanting, “Skittles, Skittles, Skittles,” the whole time, but if I cursed, I considered it justified.
His chest crushed the breath from me and both arms flopped off the sheet. He smelled of Aqua Velvet. They still made that stuff? I wiggled and squirmed until I was free. My chest heaved from the exertion. I unwound the silk scarf I had slipped around my neck before leaving the bakery that day, and clumsily tied his wrists together so they stayed out of the way.
Vega moaned once and my heart had stopped, but he hadn’t woken. The shot of adrenaline propelled me into action again. The thunk of his head over each step, gave me a little satisfaction, though not a lot because I wasn’t a mean person.
My father had sent me a pack of cable zip ties and several rolls of duct tape for Christmas last year. He joked that someday I might need them. As it turned out, they had come in handy.
Once in the bathroom, I gathered what little strength I had left and rolled Vega off the sheet. I removed the scarf—I burned it later—secured Vega’s hands and legs behind his back with the cable zip ties, plus plastered duct tape over his mouth and around his head for good measure. I couldn’t fathom where the strength came from, but if Vega had gotten ahold of me, I shuddered to think what he might have done—he was a mean son-of-a-bitch.
After putting my jewelry away and picked up the bedroom, I popped two over the counter pain meds, crawled into bed, and immediately fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning feeling much better. My fever was gone, but Vega wasn’t. The night before hadn’t been a fever-induced nightmare after all.