Stalking the Dancer || 18+

Part Seventeen - Only a Man

A/N Sorry that it's been a while. I've been struggling (3 jobs and I'm just fucking tired all of the time lol, help) and haven't been able to write in a few months. Dorothy and Billy stayed in my mind, though, and I'm happy to get back to telling their story.

 "How is he so level-headed about all this?" Dorothy's voice is quiet, barely loud enough for me to make out what she's saying from where I stand in the hallway, eavesdropping my ass off. It's been a long day, getting rid of a body in an unfamiliar state isn't exactly easy, but it's also not impossible. Thankfully, we buried the fucker who hurt my woman before the clock struck noon. It never changes; the worst part of covering up a murder is the extensive cleaning list that comes afterward, and Dorothy's room was no exception. Flecks of blood were everywhere, and we had to trash some of the big things in her room, like her comforter and rug. Ideally, we would've burned all of that shit and made sure it could never be found, but Doe made it very clear to us that we were not supposed to light a fire anywhere near city limits, which limited our already-small pool of options. 

It's almost four o'clock now, Ray and I just finished replacing all of the things we tossed out, and for the first time since breakfast, I can slow down and listen to what she has to say– even if she's not saying it to me.

Since we started working this morning, the guys have switched off sitting with her; none of them felt comfortable leaving her alone. Neither did I, if I'm being honest. She's holding up well, all things considered. But something in her eyes is different, almost hollow. She needs our support now more than ever. 

Antoine's typically playful voice is calmer today, like he's trying not to spook her. "It's not my story to tell, but if you're really askin' me..." A long pause stretched between them, and I'd do anything to get a look at Doe's face right now so I can gauge how she's taking this. "He's seen worse, 's all I'll say. You should ask him sometime, if he'd tell anybody, it'd be you." They continue to chat for a few more minutes, trailing off into a conversation about horror movies and jump scares, but soon enough, it's quiet again. 

My skin prickles with the need to go to her, and I have to force myself to stay in place. If I didn't have freaky good hearing, I might have missed her voice come out in a whisper. "Thank you for coming today. I know it's not exactly convenient for you guys to drop everything and-" 

"Dorothy, what the fuck? You really don't get it, do you?" I'm more than a little jealous that he's the one giving her a reality check right now. I wish I could see her flawless face scrunching with confusion. "Get what?" Her voice is louder now, steadier, too. She doesn't like the way he's speaking to her, and she may not take his shit for much longer. That's my girl. 

"The second Billy told us to get here, we happily got our asses on the next flight. If he would'a told us on the phone what the hell actually happened, we'd have figured out a way to get here faster. You're one of us, whether you're with Billy or not. But those assholes are too damn respectful to ask you, so I'll bite the bullet." He sounds pissed, then his tone gets gentler, "Come home– if you'll feel safe there. We miss your commentary during football games. I've been dying to know what you think about basketball." The shitstain is talking about sports, of all things. 

Sniffles cut his pansy speech short, and I'm rounding the corner before I can stop myself. I'd hate to beat my buddy after he said all that nice shit to my woman, but anyone who makes my little demon cry dies, no exceptions.

 Fuck, maybe there's one exception.

Time could stop, and I'm not sure I'd notice. The scene in front of me pulls my attention like a magnet. Dorothy's arms are wrapped around his neck as she cries into his chest, and his arms are wound around her shoulders protectively. He looks like a deer in headlights.