My boyfriend's Cuckoo Roommate

4. That's a better souvenir if you ask me

As I delve into Jake's thread of messages, I start losing the voice of the jerk behind me spouting judgments about my standards. I blank out to the messages I'm reading. The last one says, "I am in Portland, baby. I've been looking everywhere for you, I'm scared. Please tell me you're fine. I came back, Amelia. Tell me you're fine."

"s**t!" I breathe, swallowing. It is then I revive from the mental lapse and look up, finding that guy standing way too close.

"Considering you're the kind who gives strangers a one-night stand to have a place to sleep, and in the morning, makes up tactics to e*****e men with your 'I am a virgin' game card, but that, I didn't buy." His lip is curled up. His eyes dance with insolence, while he crassly makes that point as if he knows me like a book he's grown up with.

"Who are you to say that about me? You're so insensitive to the things you speak. If only you showed these behaviors earlier, no one would want someone with a dirty soul. I regret ever meeting you. I'd rather have slept on the street than ever getting to know you. Your good car and good home did you no good. Look at you, all alone in it. You're so dirty; you disgust me in every aspect." I spat, but he only has this nonchalant smug expression that I want to slap off so badly. But only God knows what he's capable of.

"Get out," he exclaimed instantly, even my cells reverberated at the force of his voice.

So earlier, it was the calm before the storm!

"What?" I gaped.

"I said get out of my house, or are you deaf?" He gritted, snatching my arm.

Fear grips me. What psycho had I brought myself to?

"What are you doing?" My voice cracks. His grip is so tight around my arm; it might have stopped the blood flow, all my limbs were numb.

"Your level of craziness has reached attacking people?" I grumbled, squirming to yank off, but he dragged me without breaking a sweat. "What are you going to do?" I shuddered, fighting to hold back my tears.

What if he locks me up, and no one will ever know I am here? What if he r***s me? Butcher me? Different possibilities creep in, as all the serial killer behaviors that I read from a book in high school align with the conduct of this man, whose face I don't know.

"Okay, please stop," I begged.

He wasn't listening. He is in full villain mode; there is not a flicker of compassion in him.

"I am begging you." I tried resisting, but he was too strong.

Something buzzed in my hand; I flinched in fear, and there was a thud.

My phone. It was my phone.

Jake.

I only have to turn on my data, and Jake will know where I am. He will come to save me.

"Let me go," I scream, and with all my might, I bit into his skin until I tasted blood.

"f**k!" He screamed, releasing me from the pain. Panting, I sprint for the phone that fell.

My heart is racing.

I am almost there. Three steps left. Two steps. One.

A hand circled around me, detaching my feet from the ground just as my middle finger made contact with the edge of the phone.

"Put me down. Let me go." I yelled, tears streaming down my face. I am done for. The house is so huge; no one will hear my cry for help.

I can only help myself. I wiggle my body, swinging over his shoulder. I slap his back, even though it is my hands that feel the pain instead.

He wasn't budging; he kept walking. And then I saw the stairs.

I swear I am done for.

What should I do? He's unfeeling, he's cold. I take my teeth to his neck, sinking them into his pulse.

"Bitch." He tossed me down suddenly; I could see the place bleeding. He took his hand there to confirm the blood too.

When he saw the red substance that followed his hand, the expression on his face reached the limit of the boundaries I'd pushed him to. He will kill me.

As I take two steps towards my ringing phone, I feel a grip on my neck, choking me, and pushing me back. My heart is knocked into its cage. Luckily, the hold doesn't last long; he moves it up to my cheeks, squeezing tightly, and my face must be red.

"You're a bat," he grits his teeth, his eyes a weird green. I'd say stunning if he wasn't busy exposing how ugly he is inside.

Even if I wanted to talk, I couldn't; he's clutching my cheeks too much, and my lips are pursed out.

He learned. Before I can process what he's doing, his lips take mine. It isn't a kiss as I could wish; he bites me back. I taste the tang of metallic seeping into my tongue. The bastard bit me, and it hurts.

I slap him, hit him, but he won't let go. He grabs both my wrists, his sharp teeth, and fangs digging into my skin like razors.

"Shush! Only you can hurt someone?" He whispers in my face, his tongue rolling across his lip, licking off my blood dripping at the corner of his mouth.

"You're sick. You really are," I spat, spitting in his face.

His eyes close for a while, but then he chuckles and wipes his face.

"What's wrong? You bit me, I bit you back? Or do you want Princess treatment instead? Oh, Princess, that wouldn't be fair." He chases me backward with each of his forward steps. "But this? Is the best souvenir I've ever exchanged with anyone." His hand comes behind me, and the door opens, fresh air hitting my skin. "We might never meet again, but think of the wonderful time we had last night whenever you remember my painful kiss." He winks, taking forward steps, while I back away.

"Sorry, but I like this linen so much."

"What—" My brows knit.

I don't get to process what he meant when he pulls the cover from me. I stumble off the porch, my bare ass hitting the scorching hot sand.

"No no no no." I run after him, but he's already shut the door in my face, leaving me outside his house, naked and humiliated.

This is the level of disgrace I've never thought possible. He set the bar of evilness so high, not possible to reach for a lifetime.

"Open the door!" I knock, slam, and kick the door.

"You will only break your bones," something speaks. I look around; there's a camera and a speaker at the far end of the door.

"Just give me back my things. Please. I am naked," I cried, embracing myself to cover up.

I've never been in this horrible situation.

He chuckles at the speakers. "Find something to wear, the doormat, or leaves. Get creative, Princess. Back then, Princesses were smart. What happened?"

The audacity.

Groaning, I flip my fingers at the camera. "f**k you."

He continues laughing amusedly. I am glad my distress is bringing him contentment. "This is so satisfying. I'ma make some cereal for me and come watch."

Asshole.

I look around. The house is so big; that I can't see the neighborhood, so it guarantees 50 percent that I wasn't being filmed or crept on by pedestrians. Still, if someone comes over to visit this douchebag, then I am done for.

My eyes meet something that might be of use—a shovel on his lawn. Crossing my arm across my chest and my hand over my front side, I tiptoe on the heated concrete and then the wet lawn.

He's still laughing, munching on what's likely the cereal he mentioned earlier. "You have a cute bum, though. But I do not do girls twice. I would've opened the door," he remarks, entertained at my situation.

He thinks only he is insane. I will show him how dark I can get.

I smash the camera with the shovel.

"Hmph," he whines in the speaker. "Maybe I should call the police and report you for the destruction of my property."

"Please do. I have a lot to file against you too. Stupid jerk." I kick and slam the door with the shovel.

"What are you doing?"

"You haven't seen anything yet." I go for his potted plants, but I don't have the courage to damage the innocent things. "Arghh!"

The walls.

"Chill!" I hear him plead, nervous and clueless about what I am doing.

"You are bad, okay? You want it branded, Isn't it?"

If only he knew.

With the shovel, I carve on the front wall who he really is, for everyone to see. Asshole.

That's a better souvenir if you ask me.