Was I Ever Here? ; jenlisa ff G!P

6

Jennie Pov

I close my apartment door with a soft snick. I can still feel the tremor in the tips of my cold fingers as I lock the door. And then the deadbolt just to be extra safe.

I watched the sun rise from the dirty slatted windows of Sammies while the cops interrogated me about Ian. I had to call them...how else would I explain his disappearance to the rest of the staff? Rosè especially.

They tried to access the cameras installed throughout the place, only to discover that the footage had been wiped clean. It made it that much easier to lie. What else could I say but half-truths anyway?

No, I couldn't remember their faces. No, I didn't remember any distinct features. No, I hadn't known Ian was hiding from dangerous criminals.

The last one was the truth at least. What the hell had Ian been running from for these people to find him and threaten him like that? A deep shudder wracks my shoulders.

I'm exhausted.

My body can't stop shivering and I keep getting annoyed by it like this is all an overreaction. As if I didn't just witness a woman deliver cold promises of a painful death to my boss. I mean, Ian wasn't the best of dudes, but he didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

I choke out a sob, heavy tears falling over my cheeks and down my neck. I need a shower. If only to wash away the memories of last night. I slink over to my small kitchen first and grab a half empty bottle of wine from the fridge. It's not even seven in the morning but I currently don't give a fuck. I take a large swig straight from the bottle, making a left into the hallway before closing the bathroom door behind me.

I peel off my clothes and chuck them straight into the trash. I don't want a reminder of last night anywhere near me ever again. I turn on the water, the steam from the shower billowing out as I tuck the bottle of wine under my arm and climb in. I stand under the scorching water, breathing the humid air into my lungs. My head hangs limp as I watch the water spill over my body, before lying down at the bottom of the tub, the wine at my lips and my eyes closed.

While in the company of the cops, I was unwilling to let my mind wander but now, in the somewhat safety of the shower, it's hard not to. I don't want to think about the other thing.

I can't help but to conjure up the memory of her face. If I could have told the truth without the fear of being found and killed, I would have answered yes. Yes, one of the kidnappers did have a distinct feature.

The one with the blonde hair. The one who looked like she'd seen a ghost when her light brown eyes had finally bothered to land on me. After she had promised Ian a slow painful death that sounded like revenge.

My body shudders again at the thought and I let out a long sigh. She had a dapper elegance to her gait, a strange contrast to the sharp edges of her tattoos peeking out of her white blazer and onto her hands.

Her blazing stare had both made my blood boil and freeze over again. Had peeled off my skin and stitched me back up in the span of half a glance. She seemed almost desperate to speak up when her friend held my face in her hand, but said nothing instead.

Yeah. That one.

Even here under the hard spray of the water, I can remember that distinct feature clearly. A scar slashed across her neck, as if her throat had been slit—and somehow survived.

But I didn't need the scar to remember her. I'd easily make her out in a crowd—if I ever had the misfortune of coming across her again, that is.

Now that the shock has worn off, my brain has gone fuzzy. But the image of her hasn't. Even her friend, who clutched my face in her hands and spoke words so cold it froze my spine, feels hazy compared to her. No, that face haunts me, even now.

I shake away the thought, standing up and stepping out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself, the bottle of wine tucked under my arm as I pad towards my bed. After changing into the coziest clothes I can find, I fall into the covers. My wet hair splays around me, soaking into the pillowcase.

Like I care. I polish off the wine, wrap myself tight under the covers and fall into a fitful sleep full of threats and menace.