Orange Juice

Chapter Thirteen

 There was nobody in the garage. It was empty of people, and there would be absolutely nobody to put a bullet through his head if he were to just walk in.

 Finally; he had been waiting for the arrival of this opportunity ever since the day he had finally unraveled their location.

 The sun was soon to set, and he had not a clue what time any of them would be back. The unknowingness unnerved him, but it did not make an effort to hold him back from hunting down the traces of what he deemed belonged to him.

 For extra precautions, he picked up a small pebble from the ground, hurling it at the door and ducking back behind a bush when it clanged against the metal with an unsatisfyingly loud sound.

 He waited; one second, two seconds, three seconds, four, five, then six. No reply. He carefully and anxiously walked over, pressing his ear against the door for any indicator of sound or movement within. Nothing. He could hear nothing but the calming sound of birds chirping on wires above his head and the faint sound of vehicles zipping by out on the roads.

 Glancing around to make sure there was not a single soul in sight to witness, he kneeled down to the rustic lock, working his way through it with a pin. He tightly clenched his jaw when the lock showed difficulty in budging, his patience running quickly as his movements became less precise and fuller of aggression.

 He put the pin down for a moment, running his fingers through his hair before clenching them around the short brown strands. It angered him when things did not go his way or according to his mental imagery. Cussing under his breath, he grabbed the pin back up, still attempting to break the lock as he had practiced on a store-bought one before.

 With a satisfying click, the lock finally came undone. With one final wary double-check, he grabbed the handles at the bottom and lifted up the door with a slight bit of difficulty. Stepping in hurriedly, he shut the door back down after himself, flipping a nearby light switch at the entrance that illuminated the room with a bright warm glow.

 His white sneakers walked over the dusty floor where randomly scattered items sat; a pink guitar, a bag of torn cloth, and a few magazines here and there. The stained brick walls were covered with worn-out posters, randomly drawn scribbles, and vibrant spray paint.

 He looked over at the rusty orange couch that sat in the middle of the room. This is where she would sit, maybe even where she slept. He looked over at the remote that was placed down on that very couch, picking it up and grazing the surface where her soft fingerprints had been. He thought of how her thumb had pressed every button, how she would change the channels while watching television late at night with nothing on but a lacy red bra and pair of tiny pajama shorts.

 Placing the remote back down, he made his way around the rest of the garage, wondering if she had been living here since the day she had left.

 He reached an old door right behind the couch, the metal handle almost falling off of its screws. He twisted it down, pushing it forward and revealing a small room with two differently sized mattresses pressed together, a wooden drawer, and a large closet with a missing foot.

 Concluding that this was more likely to be where she slept, he felt a bit of heat rise up to his face. He walked over to the rustic drawers, opening one of them to reveal a pile of clothes that most definitely belonged to her. Picking up a rosy pink cropped top, he ran his fingers over the cotton fabric, bringing it up to his face and inhaling the scent so intensely he could almost feel it in his taste buds.

 It smelled of her. He could recognize that exact smell anywhere for it lingered deep in his memories and fumed his frustration in moments of emptiness. It intoxicated him, like a long-gone forbidden craving that finally made its way partially back into his hands once more. He picked up more shirts, smelling each individual one and occasionally rubbing it on his bare neck in hopes that it would stick with him and follow him home.

 He then opened the second drawer where he found more clothes and a few scattered makeup products. Those also likely belonged to her, he thought while picking up a tube of cherry pink gloss. He slowly twisted the cap before pulling out the product-covered applier.

 He brought it up to his nose, smelling in the fruitiness that he wished he could savor through her soft plump lips instead. He hesitated for a moment before applying a bit of the gloss onto his hand right under his thumb. He smelled that area for a moment once again before grazing his own lips there. He pictured what it would be like if it were her standing there instead, wrapping her own arms around his neck while he tasted the sticky lip gloss off of her.

 He wished he could take the entire drawer without notice. Instead, he returned the clothes and the lip gloss as they had been before he had touched them, keeping one single pair of white underpants for himself to reminisce about her when his mind galloped with the thoughts of her.

It excited him. Having a garment so private that had touched her skin in places he wished he could have sent a rush through his blood.

 Turning to the mattresses, he could not tell which one had belonged to her, but the idea of having two mattresses this close to one another spiked him with an unduly amount of envy.

 He fantasized about ripping apart whoever it was that slept so close to her, for he believed it was only him that deserved to lay next to her. Only he deserved to watch her chest rise and fall with every unconscious breath.

 It boiled his blood to even think about what she had been doing during those past years. Where had she been to, who had touched her, who had looked at her, and who had talked to her.

 And that girl...that other girl that fueled his nerves with gasoline. Why was she always with that other girl? Why did she laugh around her like that? Never had she laughed so beautifully and genuinely around him like that.

 The mere thought of having her love some man who wasn't him made him absolutely lose sight of all senses of morality, but the idea of her not only loving someone else but loving another woman made him want to burn the entirety of the earth down to ashes.

 He wanted the answers; Who was that girl? And who was she to his property? He wanted to know, but he only wanted the answers that pleased him, and he was ready to do everything in his power to make sure Lizzy would be his own enough to never bat a glance at another human being.