by Alex Grayson
I sit on the steps and hunch over, resting my forehead on my knees and hugging my legs with one arm. Not even a minute later, I hear JW’s truck and look up. He’s barely turned the motor off before he’s sprinting up the driveway. As soon as he’s within reach, I spring up from the steps and launch myself into his arms. I cry so hard and loud, I know I’ll have a sore throat later. But I don’t care. Jenny is inside with her guts torn from her body. Dead. All because of me.
A moment later, JW’s got me by the shoulders and gently pulling me away so I’m forced to look at him.
“What happened? Where’s Jenny?”
I swallow and squeeze my eyes closed. “She’s in the bedroom,” I whisper hoarsely. Fresh tears leak down my cheeks.
“Come on,” he urges, turning me back toward the house.
“I can’t!” I wail. “I can’t go back in there. I can’t see that again.”
Dark eyes filled with several emotions—sympathy, pain, and rage to name a few—stare back at me in understanding. “Just into the house. I need to go see what happened. You can wait for me in the living room.”
Nodding, I let him lead me back into the house. He takes me to the living room and sets me down on the couch before heading down the hall. I pull my feet up on the edge of the cushion, hug my legs, and bury my face in my knees.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hear JW mutter.
I lift my head when I hear the front door burst open. Judge stalks inside, jaw tense and his eyes darting frantically around the room. When he sees me on the couch, he opens his mouth to say something, when JW walks back in the room.
“Judge—” he begins, but Judge interrupts him.
“Where is she?” he demands.
“Judge,” JW tries again, “I don’t think—”
“Where. In the fuck. Is Jenny,” he booms. I flinch at the loud demand and squeeze my legs tighter, further into myself. More tears burn my cheeks.
JW’s eyes narrow, but he gives Judge what he wants. “Bedroom.”
He steps to the side just as Judge gets to him and disappears down the dark hallway. JW’s eyes meet mine.
“Are you okay?” I nod weakly. “I need to….” His words drift off.
“Go to him,” I croak through a dry throat.
He spins away just as a loud crash comes from the bedroom. I drop my head to my knees again and simply let my tears flow, my heart breaking even further at the utter pain I know Judge is going through. He may not love Jenny in the traditional romantic sense, and he may share his affections with other women, but there’s no doubt he cared for her deeply. It didn’t take long for me to see that.
Judge’s roars echo off the walls and there’s more thundering crashes. All I can do is sit there and listen. Listen to a man who seems so strong, tear apart his room because of his grief over losing someone important to him. Not only lose someone, but in such a cruel and hideous way.
JW’s murmurs drift down the hallway, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. What can really be said in a situation like this? There’s nothing that is comforting enough. There’s nothing that can make a person feel better. There are no words that can make this right.
It’s been at least ten minutes before JW and Judge come back into the living room. I cautiously cast my eyes at Judge, afraid his wrath will turn my way. If he holds me responsible for what happened, I wouldn’t blame him. It is my fault. It’s me who Diego wants. Jenny was just an innocent casualty in his sick need to get what he wants.
He stops in the center of the room and faces me, his eyes dark and carry a mountain of pain, but also filled with rage. JW comes to a stop between us. Not blocking Judge from me, but no doubt putting himself close in case he needs to step in. I don’t think Judge would hurt me, but words can sometimes be just as painful as a blow to the face, oftentimes more so.
“Where’s Benjamin?” Judge demands harshly.
I frown. “Benjamin?” I look to JW then back to Judge. “Who’s Benjamin?”
“The guy I left with Jenny while I ran an errand.” His answer is a biting growl.
“I was just getting ready to call you when you called me.” JW inserts. “My phone was in the truck while we were at Emo’s, and I missed Judge’s text, telling me Benjamin was here. I wanted to warn you. You didn’t see him when you got here?”
I’m shaking my head at the same time I say, “No.”
Just at that moment, a loud bang comes from the kitchen, followed quickly by a low moan. I barely have time to blink before JW’s rushing toward the kitchen with a gun I hadn’t seen until now in his hand with Judge hot on his trail. I get up from the couch, suddenly fearful with the possibility that Diego’s still in the house. It didn’t even dawn on me that he could still be here. I wrap my arms around my middle and edge toward the wall by the hallway.
A moment later, JW and Judge are leading a guy out of the kitchen, his arms draped over their shoulders as he struggles to stand. He has blood running down the side of his face, dripping from his chin onto the floor. He looks to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. I assume this must be Benjamin.
I hold my place at the wall as the two men set the injured one down on the couch. He groans when his head thumps against the back.
“Eden,” JW calls, and I glance at him. “Can you go to the kitchen, find a towel, and wet it for me?”
I nod and rush to do his bidding. Grabbing a dish towel from the drawer by the sink, I stick it under the spigot, and squeeze out the excess water before bringing it back into the living room.
“Trouble should be here any minute,” JW is saying when I hand him the wet towel.
“What in the fuck happened, Benjamin?” Judge stands, glaring down at the man, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his face a thunderous mask.
Benjamin’s head is still lying against the back of the couch and his eyes are closed as JW begins to wipe away the blood. There’s a huge gash that’s left behind.
“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he replies. “I was in the kitchen getting something to drink when the next minute it felt like a bomb was going off in my head.”
“Jenny’s dead,” Judge says grimly. I bite my tongue to hold back the sobs wanting to break free again.
“What?” Benjamin explodes, knocking JW’s hand away when he sits up quickly.
“Lay the hell back, you dumb ass,” JW growls when Benjamin starts to list to the side from his sudden movement.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Benjamin mumbles over and over again, following JW’s orders because he has no choice. It’s either that or pass out. He already looks like he’s on the verge of losing the contents of his stomach.
“Yeah. Shit. She’s fuckin’ hacked to pieces on our bed.” Judge spins away and reaches for the back of his head with both hands, gripping his dark strands and tugging roughly. A guttural growl rumbles from him.
“Son-of-a-bitch, Judge. I’m sorry.” Benjamin rubs his hands down his pants, his expression full of remorse. “So fuckin’ sorry.”
Judge’s back stiffens, but he doesn’t turn back or say anything to acknowledge the apology.
I’m devastated for him. We may not know each other that well and it’s not my place to offer condolences, especially given the reason behind Jenny’s morbid death, but I still wish I could go to him and pull him into my arms; give him the soft comfort that normally only females offer. I don’t think it would be well received though.
A car door slams outside. Judge stalks across the living room and meets Trouble, a black medical bag in his hand, at the front door. They exchange a few murmured words, Trouble’s brows slashing into a frown as he listens to Judge.
“Take care of him,” he grunts and jerks his chin in Benjamin’s direction.
Trouble steps up to Judge and lays a hand on his shoulder. It shows how close they are when he doesn’t knock his hand away.
“I’d like to take a look at Jenny first. See if there’s—”
“There’s nothing that can be fuckin’ done, Tro
uble. He tore her Goddamn insides out.” Judge slams his teeth together and hisses out a breath. “Just fuckin’ take care of Benjamin.”
After that, he walks out the front door, leaving it open in his wake. I watch him through the open doorway as he marches down the steps and stops in the front yard. His head falls forward and his shoulders droop, like they’re holding the weight of the world and he doesn’t have the strength to hold it any longer.
Trouble walks by me, his hand squeezing my arm in comfort as he passes by. As soon as he takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Benjamin, JW walks over to me.
“Jesus, you’re as white as a damn ghost,” he mutters, grabbing my hand and leading me to a chair. He forces me to sit and points a finger at me. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
He leaves me and goes into the kitchen, reminding me of my search for Jenny a while ago. I never actually went into the kitchen; I just saw over the bar that it was empty. Or at least I thought it was. Benjamin was only a few feet away, and I didn’t even realize it. Had it been Diego, even more destruction would have happened. I shiver at the thought.
JW comes back, holding a glass filled with amber liquid. I take it when he holds it out to me. I’m not a big drinker, but I make an exception this time. Anything to help numb the pain I’m feeling.
I drain the glass, coughing at the burn sliding down my throat.
“More?” JW asks, taking the glass from me.
“No, thank you.”
Snagging me around my waist, he lifts me like I weigh nothing, spins to take my seat, and puts me down on his lap. He palms the back of my head and presses my face into his neck, and I’m only too willing to let him. I feel like a child being consoled by a parent.
The kind and comforting gesture brings more tears to my eyes. I don’t want to cry anymore, not that Jenny doesn’t deserve my tears. I just want to be strong. Being strong is the only thing that will help me defeat Diego. But strength is the very last thing I feel right now. I feel weak and fragile and regretful. So much regret. Then comes the guilt. Not only for what Jenny went through, but because I’m throwing my own little pity party in my head. It’s selfish. My feelings don’t count right now.
The soothing feeling of JW’s hand running up and down my back comforts me, and after a few minutes, my cries of sorrow become quiet hiccoughing sobs.
He pulls me away from his neck, and I want to protest. I’m not done leaning on him. “Are you okay?” He tucks a piece of loose hair behind my ear.
“I don’t know.” It’s the only answer I feel comfortable giving.
“You aren’t to blame for this, Gypsy,” he says gently.
“I’m not—” He doesn’t let me finish.
“Yes, you are. I see it in your eyes. You didn’t do that to Jenny. Diego is the only one at fault here.”
“He’s right.” I look up at Judge and find him only a few feet away, looking down at us. His face is pale and haggard. “That bastard did this, not you.”
I’m shocked at first, because I thought for sure he would blame me.
“But if it wasn’t for me, she would still be alive,” I whisper through a throat thick with emotion.
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t you dare take this on your shoulders.”
“You didn’t know who he was when you started seeing Diego,” JW says and I look at him. “You didn’t ask to be a witness to the murder of that woman. You don’t have that chip. And you certainly didn’t perpetrate Jenny’s murder. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” He enunciates the last few words slowly.
I don’t agree with either of them, but I nod anyway. I’ll always feel guilty for what happened to Jenny, no matter what anyone says, but it makes me feel marginally better that neither JW or Judge casts blame my way.
I tuck myself back against JW’s chest and let his steady heartbeat calm my raging one. If I knew JW would let me, I’d leave Malus tonight. The thought of someone else being hurt because of me has anxiety clawing its way into my lungs. So I don’t think about it. I don’t let it pull me under. I don’t think about how it would be safer for everyone if I just left. It’s pointless anyway, because I know JW wouldn’t let me leave. And a big part of me is glad.
Although I would sacrifice the happiness I know I could have living here if it meant no one else would come to harm, I don’t want to give up Malus or its people. But most importantly, I don’t want to give up JW.
JW
WE’RE ALL STANDING OUTSIDE. Eden is huddled against my side, my arm draped over her shoulder as she quietly cries against my chest. Judge is beside us with Trouble and Emo on his other side. We listen to Pastor Philips preach the graveside sermon, but I don’t think any of us really hear him.
It’s the typical funeral. A rainy day to match the dark, dismal, and somber mood everyone is in. We’re all huddled underneath black umbrellas with our black formal clothes. The women cry softly, while the men comfort them with a gentle embrace. There’s no coffin. Jenny wanted to be cremated. I remember her once saying the thought of her decaying body in the ground gave her the heebie jeebies. An open casket before her cremation was out of the question. The reason behind that still makes my blood boil. Jenny wasn’t simply murdered. She was fucking slaughtered and gutted like a pig.
What separates Diego from all the other sick psychos out there who like to mutilate their victims is the fact that Jenny was alive when he started cutting into her. I don’t know how Emo was able to come to that conclusion, but I don’t doubt his findings. He’s good at what he does. Another morbid fact about Jenny’s death and what she went through the thirty minutes Diego was with her, and it turns even my stomach, is that before he sliced her from pubic bone to sternum is, he shoved that knife inside her privates. The blade, not the handle. When Emo shared that tad bit of information, Judge went ballistic. I’ve never seen that crazed look in his eyes before. There was damn near nothing left in Emo’s living room that wasn’t broken. It took me, Emo, and Trouble to calm him down, and even then, Trouble ended up with a black eye and Emo with a split lip. The only consolation was knowing that Jenny probably passed out from the pain of being raped by a knife, and that she more than likely wasn’t conscious when he started slicing into her. I kept that bit from Eden, knowing she would only blame herself more if she knew the extent of Jenny’s experience.
Pastor Philips finishes the sermon and after a few moments, the cemetery caretaker is lowering the small black box that contains Jenny’s ashes into the ground. Judge kept a small urn with some of her ashes for himself. This brings on another round of silent sobs. The women behind us, Judge’s other women, all huddled together and cry for the friend they lost.
After the cremation box is in the ground, people start to disperse, most leaving sedately in their cars and some sticking around to talk.
Mae walks over and pulls Judge’s stiff body down for a motherly hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” He gives her a clipped nod and kisses her cheek. She turns to Eden, giving her a hug too. “How are you holding up?” Mae wasn’t given all the details of Jenny’s death, we decided to keep the more gruesome parts to ourselves, but she knows Eden was the one who found her.
Eden’s eyes are sad as she flicks them to the hole in the ground.
“I’m okay.”
She’s not okay. She couldn’t be further from okay. Using the tissue in her hand, she wipes under her red and swollen eyes. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing makeup because she’d look like a raccoon by now with all the crying she’s done.
Mae’s eyes are dull when she nods. “Everyone is gathering at The Hill. Will you two be there?”
Eden looks at me for an answer, but I stay quiet and leave the decision up to her.
“Yeah, we’ll be there.”
“Alright, honey. I’ll see you there then.”
She speaks with Emo and Trouble for a moment before turning to Jamie, Gillian, and Layla. Mae’s never been a fan of Judge’s choice in having multiple mistresses, but she’s always been fo
nd of the women.
“You want to go home and change before we go to The Hill?” I ask, because no matter how much you huddle under an umbrella in the rain, you always end up soaked.
Relief flashes across her face, mixing with the look that says she could use a nap, or ten.
“Yes, please. I think my toes have started a mud wrestling match in my shoes.”
I grab her hand and pull her behind me. It’s probably rude to just leave without saying goodbye, but I want to go before anyone stops us. Besides, we’ll see everyone at The Hill later. I want to get Eden out of her damp clothes and into something warm. The temperature isn’t too bad, but it’ll be dropping once the sun starts going down.
We’re both quiet during the short drive to my house. I hold her hand in my lap and her fingers clutch mine tightly, like she’s scared to let go, or I’ll let go. There’s no chance of that. Maybe not ever.
She mumbles something about going to change and walks off toward the bedroom. I watch her go, her black knee-length dress a big contrast to what she normally wears. I don’t like her in the drab clothes. She’s only worn it for a few hours, but the minute she stepped into the living room earlier, I wanted to demand she go change. I like the soft, colorful, flowy skirts she wears. The bangles and hoop earrings were also absent. I missed the jingle the bangles made. And her hair? Her hair was in a Goddamn bun. A tight one at that. With no loose flyaway pieces.
I pull at my tie, loosening it, then yanking it off and tossing it on the couch. Walking into the kitchen, I snag the whiskey from the cabinet, pour some in a glass and throw it back, repeating it two more times as I lean back against the counter.
My thoughts drift back to Jenny and the death certificates of her parents I found the night she was murdered. She was five when they were killed. I wonder if she knew her parents were against the acts of Hell Night. Maybe it was just their own daughter they were against hurting. Emo couldn’t find any more footage that showed the couple, or at least not close enough to tell their demeanor with what they were doing. Like I told Emo the other day, I don’t remember them much, but I do remember seeing them a couple of times during Hell Night. I never really paid attention to them though. I was barely twelve when the FBI showed up in Malus. I was too young to pay much attention to other people during those nights. I was busy living my own hell.
