Crimson

I remember thinking how handsome he was the first time we met. An old client of mine had introduced us. He was very clever. Funny too. He wasn’t much taller than me but he was fit, strong. You could tell just by looking at him that he took good care of himself. Patrick had the best smile, and even with such chiseled features he was never intimidating. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room the way he looked at me. I always loved how polite he was. We would meet after work every Friday night. Patrick was a gentleman, almost old-fashioned. He never pushed himself on me or pressured me romantically. If anything I was the one that came on too strong. Never the less we would have our Friday nights: dinner, a bottle of wine, and those piercing eyes…and just like that he would kiss me goodnight and we would go our separate ways. I had never met a man that was so patient. I would have guessed he wasn’t interested in me if he wasn’t constantly checking in on my whereabouts.

One night my insecurities got the best of me. We had been messaging back and forth and he decided he wanted to stay in and get ahead on some work for the upcoming week. I figured I’d stop by his place to see what he was actually up to. I brought a bottle of wine with me to play it off as a “pop in”. Best case scenario Patrick would be pleasantly surprised and tonight would be the night things get more serious. I had no plan on what to do if I caught him with someone else. We hadn’t had the conversation but we were exclusive, weren’t we? As I arrived at his apartment building my stomach started to cramp. I debated turning around and leaving, but I had already come this far. Fuck it. I made my way to the third floor but when I reached his door I noticed it wasn’t pushed completely shut. I stood still listening to what would be waiting for me on the other side. I heard nothing. I inched myself into the entry way hoping to go unnoticed. Patrick always kept his space the way he kept himself; neat to the point of OCD. Something seemed different today. Maybe it was the throw pillows strewn across the floor. Maybe it was the pairs of shoes in the hallway that appeared as if they had been stepped out of. Pairs of shoes. PAIRS of shoes. It suddenly registered that there was no reason for Patrick to have a pair of black thigh high boots laying in his hallway. I could feel my ears getting hot and I turned to leave before I embarrassed myself further. How could I be so naive? We hadn’t even slept together and I was assuming I was the only woman he was entertaining. And on top of that to show up to his place unannounced?! I was embarrassed and wanted to vomit, but I was a little more concerned with how to get out without getting caught. I went to grab the bottle of wine I had brought before I disappeared (we’ll call it a parting gift) when I noticed a muffled groan coming from down the hall. I will never understand why I felt the need to torture myself further, but here I was creeping closer to heartbreak. My eyes stung as they filled with tears. The guttural noises grew louder as I approached the master bedroom. Of course the door was open. Patrick wasn’t exactly assuming I would come to catch him fucking someone else. My voyeuristic nature had taken over and there was no turning back. I poked my head in like a true pervert only to find the room empty. However, the sounds took me where I needed to go. If he could do this with someone else, why not me? Jealousy seeped in as I wondered what was so wrong with me when I had been throwing myself at him for weeks. That little green monster quickly turned to rage. I couldn’t wait to tear this guy a new asshole. I barged into the bathroom ready to release my wrath, only to have the breath sucked out of my body. Nothing could have prepared me for the poor girl that lay lifeless in his bathtub. Her eyes stared back at me with fear and confusion, but there was nothing I could do for her. Patrick was hunched over, struggling with her hand when he turned to notice me. I had never seen those deep, piercing eyes look so frightened and lost. Wide with shock, they took a moment to focus and assess just how screwed he really was. My mind was telling me to run while my knees decided to buckle. The tub was covered in crimson. The gash on her throat dried a rust color where the blood had spilled out. I shuttered in disbelief as Patrick grabbed me, assuming I would try to escape. He said nothing. His face began to fill with confusion as we sank to the floor, quickly becoming a heap of dried blood and tears. Who was she? Had he done this before? Why was I still alive when he had so many opportunities to take advantage of my vulnerability? So many uncertainties filled my mind but amongst the chaos I was sure of one thing: I had never felt safer.