The Halloween Massacre

Chapter 5 ~ Amira

I'm drowning in you, mi amor. 

I am unable to hide the blush on my face. 

I'm drowning in you. 

Erik has never said anything like that before. I could get used to it. Not by Warren, though. I don't even know him. 

"Amira," I say back, "My name is Amira," He looks at me like he's assessing. 

"Amira," he echoes, saying my name as if tasting it on his tongue, "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," The amount of times he has gotten me at a loss of words is uncountable at this point. 

"You're a very forward man. Is this what it's like for all your women?" I inquire. 

"No," he replies right away, "you are the only one I'm talking to," I study him intently. There's something going on behind this flirtatious mask he wears. There always is. And I intend to figure out exactly what that is. I'm about to say something when the waiter comes up to us. 

"I'm your waiter, Jacob. What can I get started for you?" Jacob looks to be a college student at most, with dirty blond hair and eye brows a light chestnut color. He recently went blond. 

"We're actually ready to order," Warren announces. What the hell. I haven't even glanced at the menu yet. Jacob fully turns to him. 

"We'll share the surf and turf, thanks," he continues on.

I love surf and turf. 

Jacob writes that down on his pad of paper. 

"And to drink?" he asks. I tell Jacob I'll have a cranberry cocktail, something I've never tried before, since I did manage to look at the drink menu, and Warren just asks for water. When he leaves to tell the chef our orders, I turn to Warren.

"How did you know I like surf and turf," I say, more like a demand than a question. He shrugs.

"Lucky guess," 

"You said the same thing about the flowers," I accuse, so quickly I practically cut him off, "What's your angle, Warren," I've never said his name out loud before. He shrugs again.

"No angle, just really good at guessing, I guess," He winks. I'm unsure what to say back, so I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding in and lean back into the seat. The conversation is mostly small afterwards, with a good few awkward silences, which he's had to fill each time. I'm relieved when the food comes, until I remember that Warren made it very clear we are sharing the dish. I almost regret coming. This feels like cheating. Poor Erik. If I tell him, he'll be furious, but if I don't I'll be keeping a secret from him, which might be worse, especially if he finds out later on.

I'm about to start eating at the meal in front of us when Warren asks me a question, 

"Are you enjoying yourself, mi amor?" A sly smile plays at his lips. He knows I don't want him to call me that, and maybe even that some part of me likes it when he does. What am I thinking? He's a total stranger. I don't even know what his favorite color is. 

"What's your favorite color?" I blurt, effectively avoiding the question. 

"Green. You?" He doesn't look bothered by my change in subject. 

"Green, also," At this point my mind is racing at all the coincidences with him in one night. 

"Hmm.. I never would have thought," he says, in a way that makes me think he definitely would have thought. Instead of saying something back, I start picking at my food, not wanting to fully eat in front of him. I still don't know what he's about, and until I do I need to be extra careful. That includes not shoving lobster tails down my throat, no mater how silly it sounds. 

We eat in silence for the rest of the meal, which I'm grateful for. Warren leaves a $50 tip to Jacob, even after he insists on paying for the whole meal.

"That was nice of you to leave a gracious tip like that," I comment on the drive home. It comes out a little sarcastic sounding and I feel bad right away, but I'm not sure he noticed. 

"I have the extra cash to spend from my most recent paycheck, so I thought I may as well,"

"And what is it you do for work that pays you so abundantly?" I tease. 

"That, mi amor, is a conversation for another day," 

"What makes it so secret? Are you a spy or some shit?" He chuckles at that.

"Something like that," he utters, almost a whisper. 

This man keeps getting more and more mysterious the longer I'm with him. The rest of the drive is pure silence, take for the sounds of the bustling night. Teenagers who definitely aren't of legal age to drink are sneaking into clubs, random couples going for a nightly stroll, Salem has everything a regular big city would, but with the added Halloween spirit. 

Before I know it, he's parked in front of me and Erik's apartment building, ready to part ways, but instead he walks with me right to the door of our room. If Erik walks out, he'll see me lingering in the hallway with a random man twice my height, and things sure won't look pretty. 

"Well, here we are. Floor 4, room 122," Warren remarks. He says 122 like one-two-two. 

"Thank you for clarifying my room number to me, I never would have thought," I repeat his words to him, hoping he'll falter and I can unveil he's been stalking me or something. Warren reacts in no way.

Then he does something unexpected, and reaches out for me. I flinch, expecting a hit, but he stops, worry lining his eyes, when I do. He pulls his arms back, then realization hits him.

"He hits you, doesn't he," He says it as a declaration, but his voice is soft, "that's why you have the black eye," My eyes go wide. I put concealer over my black eye before I left. How did he know? 

My breaths start coming quicker and I don't respond. My chest feels tight and I shake my head. I want to tell him no, that he doesn't hit me, that I'm happy, but it's not true. It never has been. I want to tell him that he doesn't like hitting me, that it was an accident, or even that it's none of his business, but nothing comes out. 

Warren's eyes light up with anger, the same kind of look that Erik gets before he strikes, and I flinch again. His look falters for a minute, then comes right back in the same second, and Warren pushes through the door. 

"Amira where the fuck have you..." I hear Erik's voice as the door opens. He's yelling. Then it gets cut off and he exclaims, "Who are you?" Erik has always been defensive, especially so right now.

 Then someone gasps. 

I peer inside to see Warren holding Erik at gun point.