Free Damaged 2 by H.M. Ward Page B

never would have thought this is where we'd end up when I first
met him that night at the restaurant.
    Just
as I calm down, something scrapes the door. It sounds like a nail slowly dragging
across the metal. Peter's eyes burst open as I cling to him. I forget about the
towel and my ratty pajamas. That sound is just wrong, like a switchblade
dragging across metal—or like Dean's knife. I glance up at him just as Peter
looks down at me. Neither of us says anything, and then the sound comes again.
    Peter
releases me, leaving me at the foot of the bed. He presses his finger to his
lips and waits for me to nod before moving away to look out the slit in the
curtains. Peter stands there for a moment, careful not to touch the fabric. He
pads back to me and whispers, "I don't see anything. Maybe they've gone." But
just as he says it, the horrible sound comes again. It's louder and longer this
time.
    My
mind is messing with me, throwing me into the past. Glints of silver flash
behind my eyes. I press myself to Peter. "That knife, Dean's knife…"
    Peter
holds me tight. I can tell he doesn't want to let go, but the sound comes
again. Maybe he's carving something into the door. Maybe he'll finish and go
away. Peter whispers soothing words in my ears but never takes his eyes off the
door. I chant go away over and over again in my mind as if it could
actually do something.
    Peter's
hands firmly hold me against his chest. We watch the door, waiting for it to
fly open, but silence fills our ears. Swallowing hard, I look up at him, ready
to speak when something bangs into the door and at the same time the knob
rattles like someone is trying to open it. Frantically, I look around the room
for something to defend us with, but I don't have anything. My pulse is roaring
in my ears, so when Peter lets go of me and strides toward the door, I freak
out.
    Peter
is livid with testosterone flowing off of him in crushing waves. The scar on
his side flashes pure white as he crosses the strip of light on the floor. It
flashes over his body like a grocery store scanner. Before I can say anything,
Peter hurls the door open. It smacks into the wall so hard that the knob
smashes a gaping hole.
    Peter
steps outside. "Come out, you motherfucker, and settle this now!" His fists
tense at his sides as he walks farther into the parking lot, barefoot. The
lights in the room next to us flip on. I see the golden glow on the ground
outside their window, spilling into the parking lot.
    I
want Peter to come back. I can't lose him. I can't. I race after him when
something darts out from behind a bush next to the door. It rams straight into
me, running over my bare feet with claws.
    I
scream and fall back, trying to get away from it before I realize what's
happening. Peter rushes toward me and stops. A huge smile breaks across his
face, and the worry evaporates. I'm still scooting back like I'm being attacked
when I finally stop and look at the thing sitting on my legs. My turkey vulture
looks back like I'm crazy before walking over me. It scrapes its beak on the
metal door, making a hideous noise, and then slips into the room.
    Heart
pounding, I look back at Peter, "What the fuck?"
    Peter
has his arms folded across his broad chest. "Well, it appears that the big bird
of prey doesn't want to sleep in the parking lot."
    I'm
staring, still not believing it. Why? "Why does this shit happen to me?"
I jab my thumb at the people watching us in the next room. "It doesn't happen
to them."
    Peter
nods and waves at them with a smile he tries to cover with his hand. The people
disappear back into their room. "Well, for starters, they didn't take a lame
bird off the highway and let it wear a bra all day. If you ran it over like a
normal person, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Peter is so close to laughing
that he can't keep a straight face. "By the way, next time I'm saving you from
a giant chicken, stay inside."
    Peter
drapes his arm over my shoulder and walks me back