The Dangerous Past

XAVIER

The thick fog that clouded my brain slowly dissipated, and I lifted my heavy eyelids. It took me a few moments to adjust my vision to the light that was shining through the window.

I groaned, not able to raise my head from the pillow. The headache was almost unbearable, and the throbbing only intensified when the noises from outside reached my ears.

I moved my arm, touching something wet, and the smell of piss hit my nose. My stomach twisted with disgust, and I had to force my eyes to cooperate.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing clearly or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when I blinked multiple times and the image in front of me didn’t change, panic gripped me and I abruptly sat up, frantically turning my head from side to side.

I didn’t know where I was. I’d never been in this room before, and I’d definitely never met the girl who was lying on her stomach on the bed next to me.

In that moment, I was too shocked to take in what was around me because the only thing on my mind was that I was being unfaithful to my wife.

I looked at my naked chest, noticing I was nude under the thin gray cover. I gulped, my breathing quickened, and I tried my best to remember something from the last night.

Yet all I could recall was the smug face of Jasper Jocke grinning at me when I had been sitting on the chair at the poker table, paralyzed.

With my trembling hand, I gently touched the naked shoulder of the young woman next to me, and that was when I noticed the huge red stain under the motionless girl.

I glanced at my dirty palm, which was also covered with something sticky and crimson, but I was still not able to connect the dots. However, after a few more seconds of mindlessly staring at the brunette, it clicked.

Suppressing my scream, I grabbed her and roughly turned her around. Her eyes were open, and she was blankly staring at the ceiling, not moving a muscle.

Horrified, I glanced at her neck, which was covered with bruises that looked like the prints of someone’s hands. I moved my gaze down her naked chest to her stomach, and I almost threw up.

On her left side was a monstrous bloody hole that left her insides and ribs visible.

I slammed my hand over my mouth, falling from the bed onto the ground. I couldn’t catch my breath, and my heart almost exploded in my chest in panic.

I couldn’t recall anything, but I was certain I would never kill someone. However, the very dead girl in the bed would probably object to my words if she had a chance.

I started to cough. The persistent stench of blood, piss, and shit became even more significant than before when I didn’t know what I was smelling.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, my brain completely shut down, and for a moment, I wasn’t able to do anything. My bloody hands shook violently, and my whole frame felt like it was in a big cramp.

Eventually, it wasn’t in my power to suppress the reaction of my body, and the contents of my stomach ended up on the ugly, dark green carpet.

It took me a long time until I was at least able to stand up and walk to the nearest table. But what was on it almost made me vomit again.

Photos, many of them. They were of me and the dead girl—while she was riding me, while I was on top of her… Essentially, the images were proof of my infidelity and connection to the woman.

I fell on the couch, groaning and tugging on my hair, when the feeling of pure helplessness overtook my entire body. I couldn’t believe my own eyes when I was glaring at the pictures.

I loved my wife with all my heart. I wouldn’t be able to do that to her.

However, my relationship with Angela had started horribly, and at the beginning of our marriage, I had been an asshole who had been unfaithful to her.

Yes, it was many years ago, but surely, she remembered that time.

I didn’t even know what had happened—what the fuck should I tell my sweet wife?

Tears ran freely down my cheeks while I was sitting without moving and staring at the ground in front of me. The heavy truth of my situation would have probably knocked me off my feet if I had been standing.

One night was all it took for me to become a cheater and a murderer. And to my greatest horror, someone had pictures of me during the very intimate moments with another woman other than my wife.

I covered my face with my hands, groaning in desperation as I tried my best to find a quick way out of this mess. The best thing would be to call my dad and ask him for help, but with his weak heart, this whole thing could kill him.

I didn’t want to risk it.

I trusted a few of my friends, but not with something as serious as this. Not only was the reputation of me and my family at stake but also my life and marriage, which could be destroyed if this thing leaked.

Reporters would eat Angela alive. My kids wouldn’t be able to go to school without being mocked and made fun of for their father’s stupid actions.

I couldn’t allow it. And there was only one person who could get me out of this mess—the one that dragged me into it in the first place—Aston.

I looked around the room, locating my clothes on the floor next to the bed. Quickly, I grabbed my jacket, and I released a sigh of relief when I found my phone inside the inner pocket. Aston answered on the third ring.

“Hello, it’s me, Xavier. I need to meet you,” I said casually, acting like nothing unusual had happened. However, if my gut was right, my old friend probably knew about this before I opened my eyes this morning.

“Okay,” Aston replied, and the noises on the other end of the phone told me that he was still in bed. “Where do you want me to come?”

“The hotel, where you left me last night.”

Aston’s snickering on the other side filled my body with confusion. I was still trembling from the shock and from throwing up, but the sudden new feeling consumed me. He gave the impression that he didn’t have any idea what had happened here.

“I owe you money, right?” he asked, chuckling. “Sorry to leave that horny chick with you, but I had a curfew and my girlfriend is super jealous. How much did you pay for her services?”

I frowned, staring at the dead body on the bed. His words didn’t make any sense.

“Did you sleep with her?” I raised my voice, squeezing the phone in my hand.

“I fucked her right in front of your face, you drunk idiot!” Aston burst into laughter. I felt sick to my stomach and had to open the window; the smell in the room had become unbearable.

“Come here!” I demanded, staring out at the busy street. I didn’t have any idea where the fuck I was.

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way.” With one last chuckle, he hung up, and I leaned over the balcony railing, trying to find something that would tell me which city in Italy I was stuck in.

My best guess was that I was in Naples; it was the closest town to the island of Capri. But I couldn’t be sure. I had to wait for Aston.

My friend arrived about half an hour after our phone call. I was ready to jump out of the balcony by the time he walked through the door. I was edgy and sick from the horrible smell.

“What the fuck!?” Aston yelled when I closed the door behind him. He was absolutely horrified. In that moment, I realized my gut was wrong. He didn’t have a clue what had happened.

“I woke up, and she was dead next to me,” I answered, standing on his right side, ready to catch him because he looked like he might pass out. He covered his nose and mouth with his forearm, not able to look away from the naked, motionless woman.

“When I left, she was very much alive,” he groaned into his jacket. He was pale, and—exactly as me before—he wasn’t able to hold the contents of his stomach inside of himself.

He ran to the bathroom, and after a few seconds, I heard strange noises and then the toilet flushed. The smell in the room was intensifying, and we needed to come up with a plan for what to do next.

“Did you kill her?” Aston asked from behind me when he came out of the bathroom. I turned to him, rolling my eyes.

“I don’t remember anything. I was knocked out, but I doubt that I killed her.” I sat on the couch, running my hand through my tousled hair.

There was a small possibility that I was involved in this, but I was never violent toward any woman. When I was drunk, I was like a puppy. It wasn’t a reason for me to choke some expensive escort girl and then stab her.

“Then,” Aston said, coming closer, wrinkling his nose, “who the fuck gutted her?”

“I have no idea.” I shrugged, handing him a pile of photos. “But someone made sure I will remember cheating on my wife.”

He took the pictures from me, frowning. He inspected every one of them, like he was looking for something. After a few long minutes of watching him stare at the photos, I couldn’t hold my curiosity any longer.

“What?” I barked when he started flipping through them from the beginning again. “Do you see something strange?”

“You didn’t have sex with her,” he replied, sounding very sure of his words. “When I was closing the door, you were dead asleep, and she was giggling next to you. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“So, it is staged.” I released a deep sigh in relief, coughing awkwardly because it wasn’t in our power to clear the air in the room.

“It doesn’t matter.” Aston quickly brought me back to reality. “Someone has photos of you fucking that girl, and she is dead.”

He looked in the direction of the bed, shaking his head slowly. “This is very bad, and it can get much worse, my friend.”

“It’s Jasper,” I groaned, fisting my palms. No one else wanted revenge more than him.

“You’re not in a position to point fingers, Xavier. We need help.” Aston was the voice of reason here, but I didn’t trust him completely.

The entire thing looked like a remarkable set of coincidences, but I wasn’t one to believe in coincidences. Jasper dragged me into this.

“We? I’m the one who woke up with a dead body in his bed!” I raised my voice, but Aston instantly shut me down with his index finger on his mouth. And he was right—I shouldn’t be shouting those things when every window was opened.

“You’re not falsely accused of murder,” I finished my point, scowling at him.

“I fucked her, you imbecile.” He glared at me. “My DNA and fingerprints are all over the place. We are both deep in this shit!”

I wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously, because I should have realized this before he even entered the room. We were together in an extremely nasty situation. And none of us knew what the fuck had happened between the time he left and when I woke up.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, standing up and nervously pacing the floor. I had been racking my brain, but I didn’t know anyone who could help us clean up this mess.

“I know a man,” Aston started in a mournful tone, inhaling deeply before he continued, “but he would want about half a million for scrubbing this room clean and disposing of the evidence. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Don’t worry about the money,” I snapped, nodding my agreement. “Call him.”

“You know this is only a temporary solution, right?” he asked, fishing his phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. “There is still a problem with the photos.”

“I’d rather worry about the photos from my apartment than from the prison cell,” I retorted, annoyance sneaking into my voice. One problem at a time—that’s what my father taught me.

“Someone will blackmail you with this,” Aston continued, giving me a concerned look. I wasn’t stupid; this was my first thought when I found the pictures, but right now, I couldn’t do anything about it.

“I know,” I agreed impatiently. I just wanted to leave this stinky place and find out if my wife was okay. “Is your guy trustworthy?” I changed the subject, reminding him to make the call.

“No.” He shook his head, and I almost punched the wall next to me. “But his boss is.”

He stood up, gulping down as he looked at the corpse on the bed for the last time. “Are you sure you want me to call him? He is dangerous, and maybe, money won’t be the only thing he will want.”

“We don’t have a choice,” I said quietly. Thoughts of my kids and wife flooded me. I had to protect them from this at any cost. “Do it!”