Collecting Rayne

by Havok, Rayne

  Knowing it will take a long time for her to get back into her routine to satisfy me for another short while.

  But what happens after that?

  What she drove me to do then will not be an option this time, not only was it not as satisfying as it could have been—to be inside of her but not really feel her, to have to wrap my dick in latex. Not be able to taste her without leaving a trace of my saliva behind. But it would also be a greater coincidence than is allowed, making it overall not worth it.

  It’s time I came up with something else. If Steven weren’t there, I’d be able to get closer to Hannah in her time of desperation. I know she doesn’t have any family to turn to, and that it would leave the door open for her friendly neighbor to swoop in and help her out in her time of need while not being the least bit judgmental.

  The puddle of water at my feet tells me I’ve been standing here long enough. I put a mental list together of the things I’ve been neglecting around the house and prepare to block out all thoughts of her reeling in my mind. Nothing can be done about her yet.

  After hours of exhausting chores then mowing and pruning my own yard, I’m beat.

  Another shower, this time to clean up instead of alleviate the life squeezing pressure of Hannah, is needed before I climb into bed completely naked and sprawled out. I stare at the ceiling fan whirling slowly, hypnotically, my brain wanders and sleep steals me.

  I wake, same position, drenched in sticky sweat and shortened breath.

  The vivid recall of my dream… or could it be reality? Confusion about the validity propels me to the front door, yanking it open, I confirm Steven’s car is still parked in his drive. The dream becomes more obviously a figment again. Taking my naked ass back into the house, leaning hard against the door to close it.

  He’s not dead.

  He’s not dismembered and buried in my freshly maintained yard. He’s next door for the foreseeable future, protecting the woman who is driving me mad.

  Much like real life, in my dream, I was at the end of my rope. I got thinking that if Steven was dead, I could either get closer with Hannah, or, and this was equally welcome, it drove her away to some undisclosed location, far from my mind. Letting me return to my life. Both were equal and acceptable conclusions. Such a relief that I know it needs to happen. I need to push her over the edge and out of her comfort zone so she does something.

  I need to upheave her life and let her free of him and over to me or completely gone. Then my mind can rest.

  So, although I am not a stalker, I am stalking. Although I’m not a rapist, I have raped. Now, it seems, although I’m not a murderer, I must do just that.

  This girl is so fucking annoying.

  Seven

  The plan is hatched, the last couple of weeks I’ve gotten the habits of next door. Albeit, from the safety of my own plot of land. Just observation but as daunting and slow as it is, it has lessened the stress. Just knowing that I have a plan to look forward to, an ending to all this torment has been quite a relief. I’m even sleeping better, the dreams are a bit awful, but who am I to begrudge my wish for the past sleepless months?

  On Wednesdays Steven is leaving for a few hours in the early morning, thusly making it my only time to strike. I don’t know where or why. He returns with nothing indicating his adventures.

  Hannah has not come out as often and the one time a saw her face it was bruised, swollen, and looked horrible. It also turned me on, so add that to the list of shit she’s making me—a sexual deviant who is proud of his handy work. Add in a little resentful that it’s her only suffering while I’m here in anguish every moment because of her for good measure.

  ***

  The days are long, as I watch them pass for Wednesday’s turn. This morning I’m waiting for Steven to join me in his car, the fact that he doesn’t know I’m here is my advantage.

  Sitting inside the cramped trunk, I wait. While he slept, I dismantled the backseat so it looks intact but leaves me a way to emerge behind him with no noise when I move the cut-away seat aside to slide in behind him. Making my presence known only when the time was right for the attack.

  Last night I had left the house in my own car and drove to a spot I think will be perfect, its centered such that if he goes left or right at this intersection, it would still be ok, it being the only way into our development heightens my odds.

  Pulling the car off the road and hiding it behind a lush line of trees to block it from the road. Leaving it there, I walked home to get the rest taken care of just in time.

  It is important that I’m not seen near the crime scene or with the victim. I needed it known that I left my house before Steven disappeared—hours before. And that I returned hours later, leaving zero question about my having time to do this.

  The subtle curve of the road tells me that it’s time. Slipping into position, I make my presence known with a gun to his head.

  I tell him to pull over.

  He jerks the wheel at the sudden sound of a voice. The car swerves but he recovers, slamming the breaks hard, skidding to a stop on the gravel berm next to the road.

  Stuttering with no actual words forming, he suddenly stops and I see it piece together for him.

  “Yea, I know…right?” I say.

  He looks pissed, like he wants to kill me. I can’t blame him. Not only did I get over on him once, and have my way with his woman, I snuck in again to take even more from him, and all without the slightest bit of speculation thrown my way.

  I force him out of the car and I follow behind. “Walk,” I demand.

  “Why are you doing this to us, Gavin?”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to be doing this, but it’s got to be done.” I can’t very well go into how I’ve become obsessed to the point of no return with his wife. It’s not that simple, nor is it his business.

  We make our way deeper into the brush, both tall enough to hide us, and thick enough to make it super fucking annoying to walk through. I stumble and nearly fall. I think of how horribly that could have ended, I fall and drop the gun, he takes it, and either kills me, or takes me to police.

  Brilliant.

  I decide now is the time, no more unnecessary risk. Without a word, I shoot him. Blood sprays out of his head and globs of disgusting warmth hit me in the face.

  That was unexpected.

  I should have worn a mask or something. But in fairness to my naiveite, I didn’t know brains did that.

  Next time.

  Will there be a next time?

  What if there is a next time!

  His fall interrupts my tangent. It’s over. I feel a relief that lets my mind rest.

  Finally.

  Step one done.

  Dragging him to my car is an event, both arduous and challenging. But we make it before the tugging dislocates my shoulders. After wrapping his head in a large bag to contain most of the bloody mess that seems to be oozing more than I want it to, I load him into my trunk, which I’ve meticulously lined with plastic for easy and thorough clean up.

  Taking my clothes off and splashing what remains of an old plastic water bottle from the backseat over my face to get this shit off of me. I shove the clothes into another burn bag and redress in clean clothes that are exactly the same as I left in—in case I was seen leaving.

  Stopping the car alongside Steven’s, I douse it with an accelerant and toss a book of matches to light it up. Driving slowly, I ensure it’s fully engulfed before I drive quicker. Watching the plume of smoke build from the rearview mirror as I get further away.

  I pull into the garage and shut the door quickly. Unloading Steven, I make sure there is no trace of him in the trunk and then set him aside.

  I figured I needed to bring him back here; I wanted the car found but not the body. I wanted the wonder and confusion.

  Did he run off?

  Where’s the body?

  Did someone do this to him or did he do this?

  The more directions the police have to go in,
the busier they will be. I couldn’t involve anyone else in this, so no friend who has connections to a guy who crushes cars, no friend to help burry the body in a remote area that promises no animals could get to Steven, no internet searches to find out what liquid I could use to dissolve a body.

  The list went on.

  It’s safer just me. Burn the car that I can’t hide. Take the body, that could have a trace of me on it, and put it where I know it won’t be found. I’d hate to have to keep driving to another location to check that he’s still buried. Best just to have him close.

  The hole I made for Steven is deep enough to keep the stench, hopefully. Again, new territory, this is all speculation.

  After dragging him toward it, wrapped in the plastic from the trunk, I shove him in. I spend the next two hours refilling the giant hole and replacing the grass sod chunk I had carefully removed, tucking it all neatly together again.

  Utterly spent I fall asleep quickly, mud covered and grimy. I have nothing left in the tank.

  This bitch better be worth it.

  Eight

  Hannah…

  He’d made me suspicious for a while, but how could my neighbor having a little crush on me lead to this?

  After Steven left this morning, I headed over to Gavin’s house through the backyard for a little look around. Call it shock, if you will, but I narrowly missed plunging head first into a hole in the ground.

  Now, I don’t want to be presumptuous, but, like, a body-sized hole.

  And it freaked me out, as any freshly dug grave in the backyard of my neighbor’s house, that I had started to think is my rapist, and may have more in store for me than even I was ready to see.

  I saw him drive away in the wee hours last night and he hasn’t returned. I know I can’t just sit and wait for him to kill me. I must do something.

  Running back into my house, I grab a knife from the kitchen block and wait for Gavin to return while huddled in a small cubby of his garage. I have to put him in this hole before I end up in it. And if this can happen before Steven gets home, then even better.

  I only need to wait a few minutes, thirty, tops, before I hear the garage door rolling up. I’m still, my breath a little shaky. If there had been any doubt before about Gavin being my attacker, the freshly-dug grave in his yard settled it.

  I know it was him.

  Stilling my heart with deep breaths, I startle when he rushes past my hiding spot and jerks open the door leading to his back yard. He fumbles back through, and just when I’m psyched enough to make the move for attack, I realize his hands are full… with Steven.

  Mother fucker.

  I know what he’s doing.

  While he’s in the yard, I make my escape. And my plan.

  ***

  Gavin…

  Waking up covered in dried mud and crusty blood is not on my top ten. And I know better than to do that. I should have come in and headed straight for the shower.

  Exhaustion is no joke.

  I think instantly about Hannah being concerned for Steven now. I wonder how she’s handling it. I waste no time getting in the shower now, in case part of her worry brings her here. At least I had the wherewithal to toss the bag in the fire last night.

  The water finally runs clear and my head is a little less scrambled. No regrets, but definitely some things were learned that only in hindsight became realized. I don’t want to dwell on that, though. My OCD would not handle it well if I got into thinking of all the things that could have gone differently, and what the outcome would be if there was a change in what had happened. Best to keep on with the task in front of me.

  Hannah.

  I’m not good for her, and I’m not stupid enough to think I am. She sure as fuck isn’t good for me, and I have no idea what I want from her, only that I definitely do want from her.

  I hope she is the type to run into the arms of the closest man instead of the opposite, all would be for not if I turned her into a celibate nun.

  She has a reserved appearance, but the look in her eyes and the way she moves her body is something else entirely. As if she’s never had what she truly needed and is just begging for it, while not really knowing she is. She’s a fucking conundrum. And it fucks up my head.

  ***

  Hannah doesn’t make an appearance at my house for two days. It relieves me to know she doesn’t send anyone over here to ask questions about Steven’s disappearance, but it irks me that she doesn’t want to utilize my shoulder for her tears.

  Her eyes are dry, but red rimmed and puffy when I open the door for her. Without an actual invite, she walks inside and plops down on the big overstuffed couch.

  She starts without a preamble, “Weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know where Steven is?”

  “What? What do you mean?” I’ll be playing the role of dumbest man ever alive.

  “You don’t watch the news, I guess,” she tucks her feet under her ass without removing her shoes, and I’m hardly able to keep the annoyance from my face. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice as she continues without pause. “His car was found burned. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning… Tuesday night really, I was asleep when he’d left.” She shakes her head at her rambling so she can refocus her thoughts. “I think something might have happened to him. But the police aren’t taking it seriously, even after I told them that I had been raped, inside my own house, only a few weeks prior to that. Fucking assholes.” Her cheeks flush with what I can imagine is anger.

  I forget my act briefly. “Uh, no, I guess I’m not really a news watcher. What do you think it means?” I suppose I salvaged it.

  I sit in the chair next to her, instead of opting for the couch with her, thinking it better to keep what distance I can for now, especially while her fingers are tapping agitatedly.

  My hand takes a lesson in the absolutely-don’t-fucking-do-that book and lands right on her knee. So exasperating, since I thought I was clear with myself about keeping the boundaries.

  My eyes worriedly search hers, knowing this could be the thing that ruins it all, but I am fucking compelled to keep it resting there in case she thinks it’s acceptable.

  Her face softens and she puts her hand over top mine. I’m shocked more than anything, my nerves cause my palm to sweat under hers as we sit here, both curious why the fuck this is happening.

  She stands and rushes to the door suddenly, stopping with her fingers on the handle. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything from him, won’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” I stay on the chair, exactly as she left me, unable to make a move, trying not to scare her off. She knows as well as I do, something just happened, and I’m going to let her come to me. That is, if she’s quick about it.

  ***

  Hannah…

  That fucking fucker! If I hadn’t known what I do about him, I might have believed him and asked for help looking for my dead husband he’s got buried in his fucking backyard. Piece of shit liar.

  I had called the police, did my best to convey my hurt and worry over my missing husband without saying what I know about the whole thing. I had to do it that way. I can’t have the police thinking that Gavin and I were in this together. Who knows what he has in his house to incriminate me? He could have been planning this for a long time. We’ve been neighbors for three years and I’ve only recently learned he’s a vile, revolting, outrageous, fuck bag.

  I couldn’t come right out and tell the police about Gavin. I have to keep what I know about the grave in his yard secret until I know what to do with it. I got everything I needed when I looked at him today, I know it’s me he wants out of all of this.

  He was apprehensive and nervousness—his eyes pleading like a dog who piddled on the floor. Instinctively begging for forgiveness, while hoping you don’t flick his nose.

  It is exactly the admission I had needed to proceed. He deserves no pity or forgiveness. Gavin is not an overly excited dog with a loose bladder. He is just a pathetic man, capabl
e of rape and murder to satisfy what he desires, without the integrity to remain human.

  I’ve never given him anything to suggest I might be interested in him. Never let on that his being interested in me would be reciprocated. I wonder if that’s why he didn’t approach me like a normal person, he didn’t even flirt with me. Just went right to rape and then murder. All while thinking he’s playing it cool next door.

  And now, I have to pretend I don’t know any of this, and let him have what he wants. Then, I can take what I need.

  Vengeance.

  Nine

  Hannah…

  I need to get free of Gavin, and to do that I must bring him closer to me. It’s got to seem natural to him. I don’t want to show my cards before I’m ready.

  I know now it’s me he watches from his window. Before, I could think it were a hundred other things that had his attention. Not anymore.

  I’ve decided it best for my plan to spend more time in the backyard sun bathing and managing all the spring flowers. It lets me keep eyes on him too, while playing into his obsession. Escalating things to point they are now has taken patience. I’m topless, which I only started doing recently, showing him I’m a new woman since Steven ‘left’, a sexually enlightened woman.

  I give him about five minutes of that, it’s all I can stand, before I head back inside.

  The doorbell is chiming as I close the sliding door.

  Jogging to the front of the house, I’m confused to see Gavin, since I could make him out in his window behind my sunglasses enjoying himself quite surely.

  “Oh, hey, come on in.” With a cheery smile, I wonder how, to him, seems real, I usher him inside. Sitting next to him on the couch, my skin crawls, and the vile reminder of what he’s done to me is left unspoken on the tip of my tongue. If I weren’t so sun-warmed I’d have goosebumps from revulsion.

  “Just checking in. No news yet?” his eyes flicker to my chest, clad only in my bikini top.

  “Nothing,” shaking my head like the grieving wife I’m supposed to be and not the vengeful bitch he’s made me. Pretending not to notice his balled fist, fighting some disgusting urge he’s having.