"Keep your eyes and ears open," I told them, my mind made up and plan formed. "And double up the security on doors and windows. No one gets in and no one gets out."
"Got it boss," Tony answered, pleased with my decision.
"We get so much as a feeling that they know she is here, get rid of her," I told them before pushing back into the bedroom.
Stella was curled up in the center of the bed, passed out cold. She looked so small and alone on top of the covers in the big bed. Rage and hate burned inside me to see the finger marks on the side of her neck. She was mine to mark up and push around, but I never liked hurting her.
I pulled the blankets back and covered her up. I don't know how long I sat on the bed and watched her sleep. It was a few hours before she started to toss and turn like she usually did with the nightmares. I wondered what she was dreaming about tonight. Was it her parents or Hector she was seeing in a pool of blood?
In the morning, I woke in the bed next to Stella. My eyes sprung open and I shot up when I realized where I was. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, let alone in here. Reaching to my back, my gun was still there. When I looked down, Stella was already awake and watching me. By the looks of her, she had been up for some time. I glanced at my watch, it was almost afternoon by now.
"Morning," she said. "I'm starving."
I couldn't help but laugh as I got out of the bed.
"By all means, let’s feed you."
In the kitchen, Stella picked at her food. She looked fine, but seemed broken. She was putting on tough act, but inside, she was terrified. Was she scared of me since she had seen me kill a man? She knew that was the man I was. But I killed for her.
For the first time, I realized how she could interpret my actions. Did I just give her evidence that I needed her alive? I killed one of my own to save her. Before I had treated her like she was disposable. Now, she might think that she was valuable and worth saving. She couldn't think she had the upper hand.
"You need a haircut," I told her harshly.
"What?" she asked, confused. She ran her fingers through her hair, looking at the locks as they slipped between her fingers.
"If by chance Hector told anyone of a girl here, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out it was you," I explained. "You need to look different from the girl I was supposed to kill in the basement."
"So we need to cut my hair?"
"Yes, and dye it. It's that or kill you."
Stella's eyes widened and she swallowed the grape she had been chewing for the past several seconds. She grabbed some hair and looked longingly at it. I would miss her long, blonde hair too. I would never get to fulfill that fantasy of pulling it from behind her, tilting her head back to look at me.
"What color?" she asked quietly.
"Black."
She stood from her stool and looked right at me. "I lost bigger things than this. Let's get it over with."
Snarky. I had watched her for months. I had witnessed her go through the five stages of grief and come out on the other end. She wasn't the same person, but she was alive. Hiding, but alive. Just when I had thought she was down and wouldn't get back up, she did. Every hit took a little out of her, but she came out on the other side, still breathing.
I grabbed the bag Sal had left on the counter for me and scissors from a locked kitchen drawer. I led her back to her bathroom where we stood in front of the mirror. I let her twist some hair around her fingers one last time. It was a shame we had to get rid of it.
"Here we go," I warned her.
Stella closed her eyes, and I wrapped my hand around the bottom of her hair. I clipped away what was above my fist. The hair fell to my feet like gold ribbons. The rest fell around her shoulders. It was still long even though about nine inches were at my feet.
"May I?" she asked, reaching back for the scissors.
"You're fucking kidding me. No."
Stella sighed and met my eyes in the mirror. "I just want to even it out. It looks like shit. I won't do anything stupid."
I handed her the scissors and reached behind myself, pulling out my gun. I pushed it into her back, letting her feel the cold metal of the barrel between her shoulder blades. Stella nodded in understanding and leaned forward, closer to the mirror. She clipped a few pieces here and there, cleaning up my messy style and giving herself sweeping bangs. I held the gun to her and bounced between looking at her ass while she was bent over, and watching her wield a pair of scissors.
Stella finished and handed me the scissors. I put them and the gun back in my waistband and let her rinse the stay hairs from her hair. As much as I liked her long blonde hair, the new look was hot too. It brought out her high cheekbones, light skin, and bright eyes. I could see her pretty face better with less hair to hide behind.
"Looks good," I told her.
"I'll get used to it," she said.
Stella read the directions and mixed the hair dye. I leaned against the doorframe, not really much of a help. With the shorter hair, it didn't take much time to apply the black dye.
"Now we wait twenty minutes," she told me.
We walked to the back porch to escape the fumes in the bathroom. The sun was bright, as though it didn't know of the horror that had taken place behind these walls overnight. The sun seemed to rise every morning, never knowing what happened when she was on the other side. She graced us all with her light, even those who didn’t deserve it.
"Why?" she asked me.
I didn't need to ask what she meant. Stella always seemed curious as to other's intentions, like their actions could be explained. Why save her? Why kill a man? Why change her look?
"I'm still not done with you," I said. "I need something from you. I did you a favor, now you can return it."
"That's why you killed him?" she asked, looking at me with those big eyes that were no longer hidden behind her hair.
"Yes. Don't think I did that for you," I told her. "I still need answers and I’ve dealt with you too long to give up now."
"Times up," Stella said after a long moment of silence.
"What?"
Stella was already walking back to the house.
"Time to rinse," she called back over her shoulder.
XI
Stella
I grabbed the shower head wand and dropped it in the tub. If there was one thing that didn't suck about being trapped here, it was this shower with two shower heads and the massaging water jets. I turned on the water and played with the temperature until it was perfect. Kneeling on the floor, I leaned over the drain.
"Here," Atlas interrupted. "You're soaking the floor."
Atlas took the shower wand from me and pushed between my shoulder blades so I bent over. Gently and carefully, he ran his fingers through my hair, letting the water wash out the dye. He was even careful to keep the water out of my eyes. I watched as the black dye swirled down the drain, washing away what I used to look like.