✔️ SLANDEROUS INTENTIONS | +18

Chapter 29

HELENA

Today, I'm turning myself in.

I committed a crime a few days ago — unintentionally, of course. I didn't mean to throw the gun in the poor man's face, causing him to fall off the cliff.

I knew my husband took care of the body, giving me a big, fat kiss, telling me what a good doll I am for kicking the man to his death. The motherfucker was proud of me, even though I did it unintentionally.

Yet, my conscience tells me I am a bad person who needs to be punished by the law for taking a life. Listening to my morals, I've decided to do the right thing.

So, I left the mansion with Roman. There's literally no escape from this Hulk; it's as if we're attached at the hip. Of course, I couldn't tell him to take me to the police station.

So, now we're at the mall — on a shopping spree. We go from shop to shop. I want him to get tired, so he won't catch me when I run away.

"Haven't you bought enough? You hardly ever leave the mansion! Why do you need so many clothes?" he groans, struggling under the number of my bags, adorning his arms like big bracelets. "Are you making yourself chic for his books?" The motherfucker mocks me.

His mocking get me into the mood to buy more garments for him to carry. And, the more he carries, the more tired he gets, right? Then, he won't be able to chase me like the hunter he is.

But getting him tired, gets me tired as well. My feet are hurting from touring the mall. Therefore, I decide to give my escape attempt a shot, now.

"All right," I say with a subtle nod, glancing at him to see him glaring at me annoyed. "You might be right, but let me hit the bathroom before we head home."

Thank God we are on the ground floor, otherwise I would break a leg for sure. Groaning, he shoots another frustrated glare at me. "Can't you hold it until we get home?" he snorts, his tune laced with pure irritation.

"No," I reply firmly, shaking my head, and shifting from leg to leg to make it real, "unless you want me to pee in the car; my bladder is killing me, I need to use the bathroom."

"Fine, but hurry up! I'll wait here," he sighs with a defeated nod, before I head straight for the nearest restroom and vanish inside, away from those radar eys.

Once in the bathroom, I scan the room for an escape route, and my eyes land on a small window. I chirp with a clap of happiness. The universe is on my side; the place is empty. I advance over to the sink, step up, and push the window open.

"Please let this work," I mutter as I try to squeeze through. Everything's going smoothly until my hips get stuck. I gasp, trying to wriggle forward, but I can't. And I can't pull back either.

Panic sets in when I hear the bathroom door creak open. Is it Roman? Please don't be Roman. Please don't be Roman.

"Miss, what are you doing?" a woman's confused voice echo behind me. I let out a sigh of relief. The dreading sweat along my backbone, crawling on my skin, cools off. It's not Roman. It would be embarassing if he found me in that position.

Just as I'm pondering coming up with a plausible lie to explain my awkward position, I hear the bathroom door slowly squeak open, followed by footsteps. The fear rises again as I pray that it's not Roman.

"I'm sorry, madam," Roman's voice breaks through, sending a new wave of anxiety through me; getting caught red-handed in my escape attempt, my entire body tenses. "My sister has some... mental problems."

I gasp at the audacity of this con artist calling me mental. "I see," the woman replies slowly, and I hear footsteps walking away from me. Is she leaving? Words are stuck in my throat, and I shake my head. No, no, she can't leave me alone with him.