by Bellus, HJ
I stare at the door while the devil grabs a few things from the counter. He’d have me in two steps. I have to play this game well.
“Can’t make pancakes like your grandma, but they’re not bad.” He pushes a prepared plate of food in front of me with everything imaginable on it. “Eat.”
I pick up my fork, swirling around the food. He settles across from me, blocking the door. He must have waited for me to eat the way he shoves food in his mouth, bite after bite. He uses his napkin to wipe his mouth before speaking again.
“I have errands to run today. June’s parents know you’re with me. Told them you had a panic attack and I helped you through it.” He shakes his head. “Finding you sleeping in that bed took all of my willpower not to indulge. Anyway, I have to run out of town to get rid of something. You can either ride along or you’ll have to stay in my room.”
“I’ll stay,” I whisper, ducking my head.
“Oh, when will you realize I’m not letting you go, sweet girl?” He smacks his lips together. “Your hair is hideous, but it will grow back and you’ll never cut it again.”
I glance up at him.
“I’m not an idiot, and I know it will take you a while to realize you’re mine. I’ll leave everything you need for a few hours in the room where you’ll be locked.”
I continue fighting the urge to panic and play into his game. It’s my only chance of survival. I glance over to the counter to spot a gleaming butcher knife. At this point, if I can get to it I’d stab him right in the chest to end this miserable pain.
“What errands do you have to run?” I choke down the stutter threatening to escape.
The pastor relaxes back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t think there should be any secrets between us. God knows and so should you.”
He eyes a brown vial on his counter. His joyous and victorious smile fades into sadness for the briefest of seconds. I’ve never seen any resemblance of remorse cross his features until now.
“It’s what ended your grandma’s life. I grew impatient and slipped some into her bottle of water. Leaves no traces and in elderly people, coroners declare the cause of death a heart attack. I’m not proud of it, Frankie, but I needed you.”
All of the self-composure I was gripping onto and doing pretty damn well at shatters in an instant. He killed her. The motherfucker killed her so he could have me.
“You holed up so tight the last few years it hurt me, Frankie, and I swear the moment I had you at the town celebration I knew I needed more. Carried that vial for months, not brave enough to use it. But once we reconnected, I knew it was time.”
“Shut up,” I grit out. “Just shut up.”
“Hey.” He stands, making his way to my side of the table. “I’ll take care of you. I’m here for you now.”
The moment his hand lands on the top of my shoulder I see black then red, then go blind for a brief second. Everything inside of me snaps. The hurt, sadness, and pain morph into a rolling storm that can’t be stopped.
I burst up out of my chair. The top of my head knocks under his chin, jolting him back for a few seconds. It’s just enough time to grab the glass of orange juice on the table and smash it over his head. He stumbles once again.
“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” My vocal cords rip and tear with the veracity of the power behind the words.
He gains his footing and before I realize it his hand reaches out, sending a stinging slap across my cheek. It only fuels me. This individual took everything. My innocence, my childhood, my life, and now my family. I’ll fight to the death because I can’t take anymore.
“You little bitch!” he sneers.
I remove the hand covering my cheek. He takes a step forward and on instinct, I raise a knee with all the power I have, connecting and sending him into a hunched position. I rain punches down on his back as he groans and calls me a bitch. I don’t stop.
This isn’t enough. This human doesn’t deserve to take another breath of oxygen on this planet. A shiny object catches my attention. The knife. I grab it without thinking, right before he stands upright. I wait until we are face-to-face. A smile spreads across my face because of the knife clutched at my side.
“You stupid little bitch. I was going to wait to have you, but not now. I’ll use you until you scream in pain and can’t walk. I’ll take you in the ass like that time at church. My cum will be flowing from every single hole of yours, making you mine. And this time I’ll make sure you get pregnant. My seed will fill you…”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as I raise the knife and plunge it into his chest. The utter horror and shock that covers his face is a blessing, the real kind. A harsh gasp escapes him. He tries to talk again, but this time I’m in control. I pull the knife out and drive it down with more force, over and over again, ignoring the sound of metal hitting bone until my arm grows weak.
He falls to the floor and I don’t stop repeating the action over and over. Blood covers me. My knees slip and slide on it as I try to stand. His lifeless body lies before me and it’s still not enough. He took everything away. And even though he can no longer hurt me I want to hurt him even more.
I continue slicing until I can’t move anymore. I leave the knife in his chest. His blood coats every inch of me, the same fuel that energized his body to torture me at his pleasure. I don’t relish in it, but I do feel a bit of relief at the fact his heart is no longer a life source, pumping vile liquid through his veins. He’s gone. I’m here.
My feet carry me down the hall to his bathroom and before I know it, I’ve stripped bare and am scrubbing the remains of his poison away. Old scabs tear open, allowing my blood to mingle with his as it’s washed away. I have no idea how long I stay in the shower. The only indicator of time is my raw and tender skin. I don’t bother getting back into my blood-soaked dress, deciding to toss it in his washer.
It hits me at some point. I’m not sure if it was while I was under the scalding water or when I dried off, causing my arms to bleed more. But I have to wait here in his house until dark. Then I’ll drag him off and bury his evil body in a shallow grave because he deserves no more. There will be no candles and no altar, no holy Jesus singing at his burial. Hell no, just a shovel, dirt, a few rocks, and a girl he wronged in so many ways. And at this point, it doesn’t matter if I get caught or not. He’s already killed me in every way that matters and it’s time for payback. It’s simple.
I flinch at every creak and crack the old house sings out. My skin crawls and my mind plays games on me. I hate being here. Even through all that hatred, I revel in the fact he’s dead and that it was by my own hands. The hours tick by until the darkness creeps in.
When the dusk settles over the town, the beating of my heart evens out. It’s a promise of getting closer to home. An empty one where there’s no promise of anything. Just emptiness and no threat or fear. That’s what I want. The one thing that keeps me going is the joy of burying this monster’s body in the earth and setting ablaze to his house. These walls will never serve as a reminder of the torture and abuse they have witnessed. It will all be gone. Nobody will stop me.
Chapter Nine
Frankie
The room fuzzes in and out of my vision. I sway, pouring the last jug of gasoline down the stairs that lead into the kitchen. In the God-fearing man’s shed, I managed to find six containers of fuel with which to douse the house. I drop the last container and grab the bottle of poison on the counter, tucking it in my back pocket. I want nothing more than to go the way she did once my job is over. There’s work to be done.
I take a second to catch my breath and muster up the rest of my energy. If I think too long, the exhaustion will set in and I’ll collapse on the floor. Instead, I let the past fuel me on. The ripping flesh that stung with a force I could never describe and all the invisible tears that streamed down my face. Something pulls and rips in my back as I wrap his body in a tarp and tie it off.
The da
rkness of the night sky surrounds us as I drag the pastor’s body out and down his back steps. The loud thunk of his body bouncing off the back steps encourages me.
My palms nearly slip from his wrists but I dig deep continuing to drag him right through his backyard and out to the pasture. Searing cramps crawl up my shoulder blades. The tension in my thighs burn and scream for me to stop to take a break, but I don’t. I know right where I want to bury this monster forever.
The sound of the flowing creek greets me as I drop his body near his final resting place. I carried a shovel out here earlier while I was gathering up the gasoline. My body collapses a good ten feet away from the tarp. I allow myself to take a break, knowing that digging the hole will take effort and a lot more energy. I never let the reminders leave the flow of my blood. The longer I sit the more the rage builds inside me. The pain, the tears, and everything he robbed brews until it comes to a simmering point that boils over.
I hop up and begin digging. The soil is soft and forgiving, allowing me to scoop out the earth with ease. It’s not until the hole is almost chest-deep that I stop. I’m not sure if it’s long enough, but I have no problem crumpling up his body and tossing the dirt right back on him.
It takes the rest of my strength to roll him into the hole. His body crumples up perfectly. A smile covers my face as I collapse on the ground. I have no idea how much time has passed or what time it is. The next thing I know, I feel my cheek resting on the cool grass. I let my eyes flutter shut for a brief second again, trying my best to refuel my beyond exhausted body. When my breathing begins to even out, I swear I can smell and feel my grandma wrapping me up in one of her famous hugs.
“Love you, baby,” she whispers.
A genuine smile covers my face as my body slowly succumbs to sleep. I’m light. I don’t feel anything and everything is perfect. No dream, no fears, just pure peace wraps me up in sweet surrender. She is at peace. Grandma was hurting. Her body fought to stay alive for me. Arthritis and high blood pressure tugged her down, but she never gave up or complained. She was always there.
Loud thundering stomps stir me awake but I refuse to open my eyes, struggling to keep my grip on the peaceful sleep. A new noise enters the scene—a low whinny. It happens once, then over and over until I’m forced to pop open my eyes and that’s when I realize where I am.
I jolt upright to see my horse on the other side of the fence pawing at the dirt. The light of the moon shines down on me. I have no idea how long I fell asleep. I glance over at the mound of dirt and fear to glance into the hole to see if he’s still there. If he’s really dead or not. Finally, I manage to glance down and see the blue tarp. That’s when my heart slows, even though my pulse rattles my core with fear of him even having a chance at life.
Something inside me snaps into action as I grab the shovel and scoop the dirt, raining it down in the hole. I don’t stop until the ground evens out. I glance over to Pokey who has his head resting on top of the fence watching me. It’s as if he never took his eyes off of me. Guilt knocks me on my ass as I collapse back. Not only did I shut everyone out of my life, I did the same to him.
My palm smooths over the uneven ground. It’s clear fresh dirt has been dug up. Wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know it was just toyed and played with. An idea hits me. I jump up and run over to the nearest gate letting Pokey out of the pasture. This may work or backfire on me. I know what I’d do to someone who had rejected me for years.
To my utter shock, he follows me, walking over the fresh dirt. I circle around with him following me around until it looks like the rest of the dirt. Well, at least in the dark it looks like the rest. The light of the day may tell a different story.
I wrap my arms around Pokey’s neck, laying my cheek on his soft neck.
“Thank you, boy. Thank you so much.”
He nuzzles me right back, offering much-needed comfort then follows me back to his pen. He doesn’t take his gaze off me as I scatter river rock over the area doing my best to match it up with the rest of the area.
It takes everything in me to walk away from the end, but I eventually do. I tug the bottle out of my pocket and clutch it tightly in my hands until my knuckles grow white. When I’m back in his house I strip out of my clothes until I’m naked. It’s ironic and so fitting because this is the same house where everything was ripped away from me. I toss the clothing in the middle of the bloody spot and don’t think twice about lighting a match and flinging it in.
I pad across the lawn with my skin my only armor and the moonlight shining down with the bottle of poison still firmly in my hand. When I’m a few feet away from our back door, a loud whoosh serenades me. Peering over my shoulder, I see the licks of flames clean up my final mess. It’s over. The perfect baptism.
The scent of gasoline bathes me. I’m not sure how but I find myself under the hot shower spray again. My nails dig and carve at my skin until I bleed. The flow of the dark red turning a light pink under the flow of the water relaxes me. I use body wash, relishing in the sting it sends over my body. Once the water grows cold I step out and throw on my flannel pants and a hoodie hanging on the back of the door. I crawl into Grandma’s bed, with her scent lingering around and hugging me tightly.
I need to drink the contents of the bottle. My fingers fumble with the bottle and I do my best to open it using every ounce of energy I have left. It’s not enough. My body finally caves into exhaustion and I close my eyes.
Chapter Ten
Dalton Cray
Did a damn good job of jinxing myself. Right when I was missing the fast pace of the big city, shit hits the fan in this podunk town. First, the funeral of a well-respected woman in town, leaving behind her mysterious granddaughter, then to rattle shit up a bit more—a wreck on the main highway that took three out of the four lives involved, and now old Sheriff Jones has been pulled out of town due to a family emergency.
I’m the one in charge nowadays, but he was like a crutch that helped me navigate this town, pointing out who would be helpful and who to avoid pissing off. I always listened, but never took his direct instructions. I used the information to weigh out the odds and make my own decisions. I’m at the point I don’t give a shit who I piss on or off.
I peel off my boots and socks, flick the fly of my pants open, and fall back on the bed. The accident that happened tonight was all due to a drunk driver who ran a stop sign, colliding into a car on the highway. It was senseless and a goddamn mess. Of course, the drunk bastard lived after killing three innocent lives in the other car. One lone survivor, and it makes me sick as hell.
I got enough of that shit growing up, watching my mother drink herself to death. It was all a slippery slope that spiraled out of control. It was never her fault, yet she still drank and I’m not sure that’s something I can ever live with. It was him, the dirty fucker. My father.
My body isn't used to these long nights anymore. Hell, I used to thrive on this shit. I’ve fallen into a pattern of getting some sleep at night here but waking up early as hell. I don’t even have the energy to crawl under the blankets before my eyelids grow heavy. My brain doesn’t process everything I have to face tomorrow.
Not to mention, it seems my stance the other day with Kimber only fueled her ambitions. How in the fuck she pops up everywhere I am I have no idea. Part of me thinks she just needs a good lay and she’ll move on, but I know better. She has diamonds in her eyes and the title of being the sheriff’s wife. Not on my fucking watch. My brain is exhausted.
All it takes is me closing my eyes and sleep settles in.
The sound of my phone ringing wakes me up, causing me to roll over to my stomach. It stops for a few seconds then begins ringing again. It takes me a few beats to pry my eyes open and find it tucked in the crumbled blankets. I answer and flick on the speakerphone.
“Cray,” I grumble out.
“Sheriff, we have a massive house fire and a missing person near the outskirts of town.”
I sit up, wiping the slee
p from my eyes. “Fire department there?”
“Yeah, but no sign of life or Pastor Ray Chapman.”
Puzzle pieces float together in a blurry picture. “The house next to Louise’s?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“On my way.” I end the call and tuck my phone in my jeans that were never taken off.
I have so many questions even in my sleep-induced state but don’t ask them. I move as fast as I can and before I know it I’m flying down the road. I see the burning hues of orange long before the scene comes into view. The officer was right—it’s one hell of a fire. And from my experience, one that was heavily fueled.
It’s complete chaos when I get to the scene. The firefighters are doing their best, but nowhere close to beginning to put out the flames. I get an update from a deputy on the scene. It doesn’t do shit because he knows about as much as I do. The house is on fire.
“The pastor’s car is here. A firefighter did make his way in when he first arrived but didn’t see Chapman. There was already so much smoke.”
The deputy doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence as an explosion rattles everyone’s core, sending me backward.
“Propane tank,” someone calls out. “Evacuate the neighbors now.”
My hands cover my ears as I shake my head side to side, doing my best to smooth out the confusion. A ringing serenades my ears as I battle to comprehend the scene.
“The neighbors aren’t evacuated yet?” I holler over the confusion.
The blank look on the deputy’s face answers my question. The houses are close enough together and should’ve been evacuated when first responders arrived. I grit my teeth, wanting to bang some damn heads together, hoping like hell it would knock sense into these idiots.
Frankie’s house is by far the closest and I’m damn certain she’s alone. I shake off the anger and jog across the yard to her front door. There are no lights on and something in me panics. What if she was in that house? Pastor Chapman had said he’d take care of Frankie since he’s known her since she could walk and was very close to her grandma.
