Bad by Chloé Esposito

Author:Chloé Esposito
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

It’s not my fault. She came out of nowhere. It’s like she had a death wish.

My eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror. I see her lying on the ground. There she is, like a hit-and-run bird, sprawled out in the middle of the road. Fuck, fuck. This wasn’t the plan. I can’t just leave her there. What if she’s hurt? She’s definitely hurt. Oh shit, what if I’ve killed her? I know I want to be an assassin. But not like this. Not now.

I should go, but she might have seen me. What if she has a photographic memory and remembers my face or the licence plate? Oh man, this is the last thing I need. At least this isn’t my car.

I scan the street. There’s no one else here. I slam on the brakes.

I leave the Cinquecento running; the engine chug, chug, chugs. The door swings open and I jump out and run over to the nun. I watch as her chest rises and falls. Good. She is still alive. I bend down and study her face. She’s old; I’d guess eighty-five? The skin on her cheek looks wrinkled and soft. It’s fine like crêpe de Chine. She smells clean, just like fresh laundry. But now her wimple’s creased and dirty, soiled from the fall. She’s bleeding from the side of her head and blood snakes down in a line to her neck. Shit, I didn’t mean to hit her. What am I going to do? She opens her eyes and looks up at me. They’re pale blue, like Rain’s. I cup her chin. Her eyelids flicker and she peers into my face. We share some kind of intimate moment . . .

‘Oh man, I’m sorry,’ I say.

She groans – her moan almost inaudible – and says something in quiet Italian. I look again, both ways down the street. It’s clear, but for how long? I am going to have to hurry. I don’t want anyone to spot me. It’s just a matter of time before those psychos track me down again. Or Nino. Or the fucking police.

I study her prostrate figure. Her long black habit has track marks on it. Now I see her eyes are closed. She seems kind of flat. I reach for her wrist to feel her pulse; her arm is frail and light. She looks so peaceful lying there . . .

Suddenly – she gasps. Her whole body spasms and she sits up.

‘ARGH,’ I scream. ‘WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?’

I jump up, trip over her legs and fall down to the ground.

Definitely not dead then.

‘Come on, get up,’ I say to the nun. ‘You can’t stay here. Come with me.’

She reaches her hands towards my throat like some evil Catholic zombie. Her fingers are cold; they grip my neck.

‘Demone,’ she says. ‘Demone.’

Her grip is weak and I shake myself free.

‘URGH. Get off. Get off me.’

I hook my hands under her arms and try to pick her up.

‘Come on, stand up. Get in the car.

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