No. Not again. Oh please! I thought desperately.
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cold cement as he shoved himself deep into me. I wanted to scream for help, for mercy, for anything, but he thought I was Riley again and Riley wouldn’t cry about it.
“I’ve missed being inside of you,” he breathed into my ear, as he moved himself in and out of me.
My lower lip trembled and I bit my lip to keep from begging him to stop. My body was reacting to the feeling of Jax inside of me. My pussy was wet and gave off the impression to him that I was enjoying what he was doing, but my body often betrayed me when he did this to me. And even though I did think that I had learned to like this feeling, I knew in this moment that I hated it more than anything else.
A few more controlled thrusts inside of me and I felt him finish. It was the unmistakable warm rush that I felt every fucking time this man held me down and fucked me against my will.
Jaxton took a deep, shuddery breath and pulled himself out of me. I stayed in the darkness of my own personal hell until he pushed himself to his feet and pulled up his sweatpants. I turned my face to the left and slightly opened my eyes, watching his feet disappear into the other room for a moment. Then I watched as they came back toward me and then stopped short of my face. He was crouched down now and I could see the tip of the knife hovering in front of me.
“On your feet.”
With shaky arms, I used my hands to push myself to my knees. I sat on my legs for a moment, before he reached down and picked me up by my arm.
“Wait for me upstairs,” he said as he walked over to Owen’s body and hoisted it over his shoulder.
I nodded and ran up the stairs as quickly as I could. I knew what we were going to do next. We were going to burn Owen’s body and then he’d probably kill me and burn mine. I didn’t care anymore honestly. I just wanted it to be over.
Jax met me on the main floor and handed me the sheet I had pulled off the bed. He told me to wrap it around myself and to stay close to his side as he led toward the back of his house and out to the backyard.
I could see the makeshift pyre looming in the distance. I could see the charred wood and I could see the bottles of fluid scattered around that he would use to light the logs on fire with.
He laid Owen’s body on the grass and told me to sit down and make sure he didn’t move. I wasn’t sure what he expected out of him; he had snapped his fucking neck, he wasn’t going anywhere, but I sat on the grass next to the body and held my vigil while he lit the logs.
I looked up when I heard the flames begin to engulf the logs and I put a hand up to block some of the brightness of the dancing fire as Jaxton came over to me and picked up Owen’s body.
In a matter of moments, he lobbed his body onto the fire. Then he came back over and sat down next to me. We were silent at first, watching the flames begin to consume yet another lifeless body before he finally spoke to me.
“You remind me of a girl I used to watch when I was younger,” he said bringing his knees up and draping his arms over them.
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.
“There was a tiny girl that used to fight with a boy in her backyard. I know I said I used to live in Bondi Beach but I lived elsewhere for a bit before my adoptive parents moved us. Anyway, she had so much fight in her, but always got knocked down. Until one day she hit him, with everything she had, she hit him and stopped the fights.”
Jaxton glanced at me and smiled. “Does any of this ring a bell, Tuesday?”
“Yes,” I answered softly.
“Good. I envied him, you know. Because he could talk to a girl without being afraid. Because I knew that even though they fought all the time, they were still friends. I never had one of those. I never felt like I wanted or needed one, but when I sat in the window of my bedroom and watch, I wanted to be like him.”
My breaths were coming in gasps at that moment. To think that Jaxton Whitlock had been watching me since I was a small girl terrified the fuck out of me. This wasn’t a coincidence. Riley was led to believe that she had chosen me at random, but as I sat there and listened, I felt that once Jaxton had been groomed to be the monster he was, he remembered me and wanted to find me again.
But why?
“I always thought you were pretty. Too pretty to be beaten by that boy. Too pretty to have to worry about fighting others. Too pretty to live really.”
He began to twirl the knife in between his fingers and turned his attention back to Owen’s body. The smell. Ugh. The smell of Owen’s burning body was starting to invade my nostrils and I felt myself dangerously close to becoming ill.
“Did you know that he was the boy that fought with you?” he asked, nodding toward the flames. “When I was taken by my mentors, I saw Owen one day and I told them that I knew there was someone else who needed their special brand of discipline and so they took him. I just wanted him to feel daily what he did to you on those times you were alone. So as you see, Tuesday I’m really not a monster. But I am tired,” he said handing me the knife. “I’d like you to help me end my pain.”
I took the knife from him and looked down at it for a moment. I got to my feet and looked into his eyes; his wild, smiling eyes that told me he was done now. That told me that he didn’t want to try to find Sorrow anymore. His eyes that told me he didn’t want to have to fight the urge, to feed the monster.
But if I did this I would be no better than him. I would be giving him an easy way out; a freedom he didn’t deserve.
“You can help me or I can continue on as I am,” he said getting to his feet and looking down at me. “I’d much rather know that the world doesn’t have to worry about me anymore and to know that it was you that ended it.”
It was a swift movement that finally brought Jaxton Whitlock to an end. The blade was driven across his throat, cutting the jugular vein in the process and dropping him first to his knees, then to his side.
I stood above him while he bled out, the knife firmly gripped in my hand, tears rolling down my face.
I had done it. I had killed the monster and the most terrifying thing about it was that when I turned my eyes down toward his beautiful, lifeless face, I saw that he had died with a smile on his face.
But ... Who would be there to kill me when I was tired? Who would I be able to find to an end to the madness once and for all?
Who would help me when I needed it most?
Eternity
Meagan Moyer
Prologue
The trees fly by in a blur; our destination remains unknown to me.
Charles drives with one hand propped casually on top of the steering wheel and the other loosely clasps my hand.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or are you determined to keep me in the dark until we get there?” I whine in an attempt to pry some answers from Charles.
Once again, I come up empty handed, only earning a sideways glance and a small smirk from the handsome man beside me. I see the familiar twinkle in his eyes during the brief moment he spares to look my way.
Since Granny passed, both my life and Charles’s have been turned upside down. My own is backward for obvious reasons; Charles, on the other hand, has had the insane duty of keeping me sane and semi-functional.
Though I’m doing well at the moment, the down days far outnumbered the up days for the longest time. Since we’re travelling down a stretch of road that offers nothing to see aside from trees, pavement, more trees, and the occasional woodland creature, I think back to the first few months following Granny’s death.
Tears immediately sting my eyes and threaten to spill over onto my cheeks as those first memories flood back into the forefront of my mind.
CHAPTER ONE
December
Granny’s funeral
It’s raining. Not ice. Not snow. Rain.
Granny hates the rain. She said that she can’t get outside if it’s raining and that she feels trapped. And now her final da
y will be spent under a rainy sky. It doesn’t seem right that the box at the front of the sanctuary holds my beloved Granny. I can’t make myself go closer than the pew nearest the back of the room. My final memory of Granny doesn’t need to be one of her lying lifeless in a casket while all of her loved ones weep around her. Jaime sits with her arm around my shoulders, a few stray tears falling but being quickly dashed away by shaking hands. Various people stop to speak with me and pass along their condolences but I can’t identify a single one of those people. I’m stuck inside the hell that is my own mind.
When I finally manage to look up toward the front of the church, I see Granny’s nose above the plush lining of her final bed. The soft white fabric melds easily with the blush pink of the exterior of Granny’s casket.
I look around and notice that there are only a handful of people scattered here and there. At that moment, as if pulled by an invisible wire, I stand and slowly begin make my way toward my beautiful grandmother, one slow step at a time. I’m terrified that my legs won’t carry me the entire trip; they’re jello at this point. My heart pounds behind my ribs and roars in my ears as I somehow continue to place one foot in front of the other. My tears stop falling and numbness begins to fill me from the toes upward. I vaguely sense whispers around me; I guess everyone is watching me, waiting for my reaction.
Once I reach the front row of pews, I stop. Can I do it? Am I ready to take the dozen or so more steps to see Granny one last time? I channel every single ounce of strength that Granny and Mama instilled in me over the years and take small, hesitant steps.
After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I stride forward until I press myself against the side of Granny’s casket.
She’s beautiful.
Every fear and negativity that’s went through my mind over the past few days has evaporated into thin air. Pleased would be the understatement of the century as far as describing my thoughts on how Granny looks right now. Tears stream freely down my face as a smile begins to form.
She’s dressed in her favorite pink top and a pair of khaki slacks. Her curly grey hair is coiffed perfectly around her face and it looks as if she will open her eyes at any given moment and tell me to stop crying. Her Cherry doesn’t cry. Ever. I register that someone is beside me and I glance up to see Jaime beside me, makeup beginning to streak from her tears. She wraps her arms around me and whispers, “I’m glad that you decided to come up here. You needed to see this.”
She plants a soft kiss on my cheek and clasps her hand in mine to show her undying support. I hate that Charles couldn’t be here with us; he’s stuck in court today and couldn’t take the time off to come by for a minute.
As if sensing my thoughts, his large hands fall lightly on my shoulders. How did he manage this? I shift my weight backward and rest against his chest, breathing in his scent. “Thank you.”
Jaime gives my hand a squeeze and discreetly slips away into the other part of the church. Charles and I stand together for a moment admiring the peaceful woman lying before us before we turn to mingle with the few other guests.
“How did you manage to get away? I didn’t expect you to get off work until later this evening,” I ask as I wipe away a stray tear that’s fallen. “Things ran shorter than expected. Apparently the evidence was stacked against the other guy and didn’t work to his advantage like his attorney had hoped. If you rob a drug store with functional cameras, chances are that you’ll get busted for it. He’s an idiot and deserves what the jury decided.” Regardless of the surrounding circumstances, I’m elated that Charles is here with me to be my rock.
Stephen and Jerry ended up closing the shop early today to come to Granny’s service. They amble through the door dressed immaculately in their matching grey suits with purple ties. Their presence further calms me.
Throughout the remainder of the day, tears fall and hearts break over and over again. At the end of the day, I’m satisfied that Granny is at peace and once again reunited with Pappy but the hole in my chest continues to grow. I take a huge risk by taking some of the flowers from the service to Shady Acres and stop to talk to the Golden Girls. Pearl and Monnie were able to attend Granny’s final honoring and all of us begin to cry again when I enter the activity room to speak to them. I hug them each tightly and drag a chair over to their circle, which has decreased in size with the loss of one of its components. It’s long after sundown when I finally exit the facility with an armload of Granny’s belongings. I made the decision to donate the majority of her possessions that she had carried with her to Shady Acres to the other residents but there were a few things that I needed to keep because of their sentimental value.
Her painting that had always hung over her bed.
Her favorite yard shoes.
Her photos.
And finally, the cross that Pappy made for[] her for their first anniversary out of dislodged railroad crossties.
For the final time, I sit in my car in the parking lot and cry until there’s nothing left by horrendous dry sobs.
January
Granny. She’s gone.
A month later, and I still don’t understand why she had to go. I have Charles here to buffer the silence and to fill some of the space around me, but it still doesn’t stop the tears late at night after the hustle and bustle of the day has died down.
Jaime worries about me. There are many nights that she crashes at my house and makes sure that I eat. I seem to forget to do that a lot in recent days. Jerry and Stephen pick me up for work nearly every morning; they know that I’ll most likely stay home if they don’t see to it that I get up and dressed each day. The four of them take turns going with me to the cemetery to visit Granny.
Without intention, I lost an insane amount of weight. Even when Jaime cooked for me and reminded me to eat something, I barely touched my food. My clothes started appearing baggy, belts became a necessary part of my wardrobe, and customers eventually began remarking about the sunken appearance of my face.
Charles’s concern for my well-being became less subtle; we began making more frequent trips to the tiny restaurant that I fell in love with on our first date. He knows that I get lost in the magic of the environment and eat more than usual while examining my starry surroundings.
Christmas passed in a blur. I spent the holidays with Charles and his mother in Texas so I was forced to smile and socialize for the first time since Granny passed. I found that I love Jennifer dearly and that she is quite similar to what I remember of my own mother. Her happiness with Danny is refreshing; they act like a couple of newlyweds and can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other for more than a minute or two. Jennifer surprised me one day by insisting that I go with her to the nail parlor and get pampered. It was needed more than I would have imagined.
Once we returned to Tennessee, I knew that I needed to throw myself head first into business; so much had been being neglected over the past couple of months. Though the hole in my chest remained open and very much infected, I pushed forward. Charles, Jerry, Stephen, and Jaime lifted me up and helped me get back into the swing of things. Jaime offered up one of her Sunday afternoons to open the shop and perform some much needed therapy.
She wouldn’t tell me what she had in mind and she gave me no choice regarding the work she would be performing.
After several hours and the incessant tingling of needles skittering across my skin, Jaime pulls me from my trance by cleaning the area. Her customary gesture in the direction of her mirror is the push I need to see what gift she has bestowed upon me this time.
Granny.
Along the side of my back and up my ribs, an enormous Japanese cherry blossom tree stands out amidst the various other colors marking my skin. Its branches extend nearly to my shoulder and twist around my ribs until they wrap beneath my arm. The months of despair come crashing down on me in an avalanche. I sink to my knees in the middle of the shop and lean into the wall. The dam breaks and all of the emotions I’ve been holding in since we laid Grann
y in the ground beside Pappy come flooding out.
Anger.
Fear.
Sorrow.
Loneliness.
Emptiness.
They’re all there. And they all forcing their way into my tear ducts before cascading down my cheeks. If I thought that the hole in my chest gaped before now, I was wrong. The jagged edges tear into my flesh, leaving a bigger area of emptiness than ever before. Jaime falls to her knees in front of me and pulls me into her embrace. I barely register her speaking to someone. The entire time, she never stops rubbing my back with her hand in a soothing motion.
DING!
Who’s coming in here? The shop is closed.
I sense another body beside me and a strong pair of arms pulls me from Jaime’s hold. I crash into Charles’s chest with a fierceness like never before. The tears come with a renewed strength and my entire body convulses with the power of my sobs. I’m soon taken back to a day many years ago- the day my mother lost her battle with cancer.
One evening in September after I got home from school, Granny greeted me at the door with a small smile. “Cherry, come here, baby. Sit down with Granny for a minute. I need to talk to you and it’s really important so I need you to listen to me really good. I went to see Mama after I took you to school this morning. She’s really sick. More than she was yesterday.” My ten year old mind only comprehended part of what Granny said. How can she be sicker than she was yesterday? It’s just one day. “Take me to see her. I want to see Mama,” the stubborn side of me rears her head and all but demands to see my mother. “Cherry, are you sure? She wouldn’t talk to me this morning. She just stayed asleep.” Granny carefully examines my face for any signs of doubt or hesitation. When she finds none, she stands from the couch and motions for me to follow her, “Let’s go, then. If you’re 100% sure that you’re ready to see her, I’ll take you. You always have been my little warrior, so much stronger than most kids your age.”
Vacant Horizons Page 5
