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learn.

My hand grips the shampoo harder. I want to run. I don’t want to hear anymore. I can’t. But my feet are planted firm on the ground. The need to know more, overwhelming.

No, no. One more night. I just want to watch for a bit longer. That dirty bitch. You would think she fucking realises she is going to die and I’m not untying her so just shut up. Stop your incessant whining.

I glance over my shoulder at this man, his face looking over the bleaches in the aisle. Bile is rising in my throat and the room is getting smaller. Oxygen becoming sparse. Dammit, I better not pass out again.

He must sense me looking and catches me. Quickly, I look away.

Look at her, she is asking for it, too. If I didn’t have one locked up already, she wouldn’t be so smug, sitting there in my basement. Slut.

I put the bottle back on the counter and scurry towards the door.

No, I am going to kill her tonight. I am going to take her again, she loves it. Then I am going to slit her filthy throat.

I almost lose my footing as his words penetrate my mind until the door closes behind me. My breathing heavy and heart pounding. I’m too close to the door. I don’t want to be here when he comes out. So, I race further down behind the corner of the building, but still able to monitor the door.

I want to run, to go home. But the things he was thinking. I mean, if they were true then he has some poor woman locked up and is doing God knows what to her.

In my rush to get out, I forgot about the other voices. They flow in.

The amulet goes straight back on, stopping me from being overwhelmed.

Do I call the police? And say what? They will think I’m nuts. I rub my hands over my face and try to calm my shaking fingers as he walks out the door. He faces the other direction and walks. I follow. This I can do. I’ve done this so many times my muscle and mind memory kick into action.

Keeping a safe distance behind him, I see him pull out keys from his pocket. By my calculations he’s heading towards the carpark where I’m parked. That works out well.

I put my sunglass on and get my phone out. Pretending I’m immersed and not paying attention. But my eyes are locked on him.

He’s parked three rows away from me in a lime green Toyota Corolla, which will be easy to follow in traffic.

I quicken my pace to get to my car before I lose him. My brain is telling me to stop, get the registration, call the police and that’s it. But I can’t risk them not taking me seriously, to not take action straight away. Then what happens to this poor woman? My heart skips a beat. Oh no, maybe even a young girl. If something happens, then it’s on me. That can’t happen. I jump in my car, throw the bags in the back and I follow the deranged monster.

I can’t stop drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I keep a two-car buffer between me and the man from the store. My heart is thumping hard and I’m finding it hard to keep still. All I think of is some scared young woman, hurt and afraid. It leaves me with a sinking feeling in my gut.

I’ve been tracking him for over an hour now through the city. I check the time again on the dash. Seven-thirty pm and I’m sitting here backed up in traffic on South Road. The complete opposite direction of the hotel. There is no way I will make it back by sunset. Which, thanks to daylight savings, is eight-fourteen tonight. Maybe that’s why my leg keeps bouncing around, too.

I should have called Topher to let him know I was going to be late. But then I probably would have told him what I heard and what I’m doing, and I know he wouldn’t be happy about that. It’s easier to say you’re sorry than to ask for permission sometimes. Or, hopefully in this case, make him worry for no reason. Well, there could be a very murderous reason for him to worry. But what choice do I have? How could I live with myself if I just walked away? No, this is the right thing to do, the only thing to do.

After a small break in traffic, we drive further down main South Road. His right indicator blinks, heading left off the expressway. Shit, where is he going? I follow suit and pull up a few cars behind him stopped at a red light. My phone rings. I glance at the time: eight-ten pm. I bite my lip. Now I really want to vomit.

“Hello,” I answer.

“E, hey,” Topher says. “Where are you?”

“Um, I...” I’m not sure how to answer that.

“Leo is asking where you are. He’s pissed.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m going to be late. Just tell him something came up.”

“Late? Something came up? You are out of–” His voice gets muffled.

“Elita,” Leo’s hard voice bellows through the phone.

Crapity, crap, crap. “Leo,” I say.

“Where are you?” He is very calm.

“Hey, I’m all good.” I go with the ditsy card trick in my deck of diversion tactics. “I’m just going to be a bit late, just finishing up a job.”

“Ok,” he grits out, “I asked where you are, not how you were doing.”

Yep, he’s mad. I look around. “Just at the lights, on main South Road, heading onto the expressway.” I hold my breath, waiting for an explosion.

Silence.

Then the phone goes dead. I furrow my brow and look at the phone. The call ended.

“Rude much?” I throw the phone on the seat. “What the hell is his deal?” I say out loud to no one. That settles it, no more answering the phone and just concentrating on what I’m

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