I think about the strange girl in the cafe. More than a head shorter than I am. Dressed like… I don’t know what to call it, an eclectic mesh of hippie and Amish. Way too many clothes for a California girl. I know she works here. It’s unfortunate she works tonight, but her office is at the other end of the building. It shouldn’t be an issue. Russo will stand guard. I wonder what happened to her. Her big haunted eyes, that scar she tried so hard to hide, how she recoiled when I touched her. I glance at the imposing brute next to me and remember what he said he did. What crushes a woman, makes her implode until all that exists is a shell without content? Or with so much content it has to be tightly held in or she’d bleed out? Of course I know, even if she never said it. She wasn’t mugged. That’s lying bullshit. She was raped. I’m not entirely sure if that’s what Christian did to the girl he mentioned, or if it was something else, but I’m done prodding anyway.
I wonder what Anna was like before, if she was feisty and fun. Before someone like my partner came along and took it from her.
She was a delight to talk with, though. I don’t know what got into me. She’s at the complete opposite end of what I go for. I like them tall, long legs, a bit hardened. Much more fun to break than a meek little girl who’d probably run at the first sight of a rope.
I rub my forehead and try to make my mind blank. I need to focus at the task before us and can’t have cute little girls sneaking in, taking up space, no matter how much of an enigma they are. I do wonder if I can find her again, though. After.
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