“It’s warm.”
Chad took the mug. “Thanks.”
They settled in front of the TV in time for the quiz show Chad pretended he hated, but secretly enjoyed, especially when on the rare occasion he got a question right that Romeo didn’t.
He looked across the room at the front pages of the Canster Times, scanning the headlines, absorbing the information, the names of Romeo’s victims, details about them, Tristram loving his dogs, Georgie the car collector, and Audrey the charity fundraiser.
“Hey, you’re missing it.”
Chad lowered his gaze. He couldn’t look at them anymore, but he equally couldn’t enjoy the quiz show with the monster that murdered them.
“What did you do before you came here?”
“You mean before I became the farmer that doesn’t farm.”
“Yeah.”
“I worked for an insurance firm. I earned good money, climbed high in the company, but that’s easy when you don’t care about other people’s feelings, or whether you’re hated or not.”
“Then what? Why this, why now?”
“It was always there, simmering in my head. My father died, then two years later my mother joined him, and I knew I didn’t have to pretend for their sakes anymore. I could finally free myself of this niggling need, get it out of my head for good.”
“You didn’t do this while they were alive, so it shows you must’ve loved them.”
“Keeping them onside was a habit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I painted the pictures my dad loved, and he bought me new paints, new canvases, brushes. I went dancing with my mother because my dad refused, and she took me for ice cream on the way home. I behaved well when we were out, made all my parents’ friends green with envy, and they’d take me to the movies, or buy the new bike, or a baseball cap, or whatever it was that I was after at the time.”
“You manipulated your parents?”
“They used me, and I used them. I couldn’t destroy their pride by admitting who I really was. A boy that fantasized about murder, and a man that set out to make it a reality.”
“They loved you.”
“They did, and I didn’t want to destroy that love they felt for me. It made them happy, and sometimes it got me ice cream.”
Chad shook his head. “My mother used to give me money for ice cream, not as a treat, but to get me out of the house. The local kids used to ambush me, take whatever measly money I’d been given, but then I got Toby, and he snapped, and growled, and they left me alone. We’d sit on a bench and share an ice cream.”
“When you say share?”
“He’d lick one side, and I’d lick the other.”
“That’s disgusting.”
Chad laughed. “I was a kid; I didn’t think about hygiene.”
“He could’ve licked his own ass.”
“I hope he licked his own, not someone else’s.”
Romeo chuckled and knocked his shoulder into Chad’s.
“Sometimes I’d pick strawberry, other times chocolate mint. That was Toby’s favorite.”
“How could you tell?”
“Measurement by drool.”
“Double disgusting.”
“Then we’d walk home, and I’d stand outside my house. Toby would whine, and I knew he must’ve been thinking why go back in there, why go back to that, and it’s not like I didn’t think about it. Packing a bag, and just leaving.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“If I did, it would’ve been admitting my mother was never going to care about me. She was never going to wake up, have an epiphany, get clean, and be the parent everyone else had. She was never going to say sorry, or take me to the movies, or buy me a baseball cap, or sit beside me and Toby on that bench eating ice cream.”
“Did she ever get clean?”
“No, and now she’s dead.”
“You deserved to have the loving family I did, and I’m sorry you didn’t. Life…” Romeo said, tapping his head, “screwed us over.”
Chapter Twenty
Two weeks until Romeo killed again. Chad stared at the front page of the Canster Times, a huge number one dominated the cover, flames coming from the top, and blood dripping from the bottom. He pressed the front page to the kitchen table, glaring at the headline. It was hard to believe the man next to him was the killer.
“Don’t scrunch it up,” Romeo warned.
Chad flicked through the pages to the safety of the crossword.
“Intense feeling for something, particularly something lost. 5 letters.”
Romeo hummed. “Something you do a lot.”
“You’ve got it already?”
“You’re reading out easy ones.”
Chad rubbed his temples, willing his brain to work, but no spark lit up in his head. “I don’t know.”
“Yearn.”
“Oh, right … yeah. I’m tired, and it’s the painkillers, they make me slow.”
“Excuses.” Romeo chuckled. He came closer, taking a look over Chad’s shoulder. “How about sexual gratification, eight letters.”
His voice was low and rumbling, and Chad resisted the urge to shiver.
“You like picking sex related ones, don’t you?”
“Well it’s always bubbling underneath the surface, isn’t it?”
“In your dreams…”
“So do you know it?”
Chad breathed heavily from his nose. “Pleasure.”
“Yeah,” Romeo said, rubbing Chad’s shoulders. “Pleasure.”
Chad tried to find the right number on the crossword, but there wasn’t one, and there wasn’t a clue like the one Romeo read out.
“It’s not even on here.”
“No, no, it’s not.”
Chad didn’t protest or fuss about Romeo rubbing his shoulders. It felt nice, too nice, and his eyes fluttered shut. Romeo worked his neck, rubbing his muscles, firmly where he had tight knots of tension, and gently at the side of his neck.
“This feel good?”
“You know it does, you asshole.”
He kneaded his thumbs into Chad’s neck, rubbing the sore muscles until his head flopped forward, and he felt like a puppet with cut strings.
“You’re very tense.”
“Well ya know, I’m not used to being kidnapped, and impaling my leg on a garden rake…”
“Your ass.”
“No, my leg—”
“One spike was pretty close to your ass cheek.”
Chad slapped Romeo’s hand on his shoulder.
He laughed lightly, then ran his hands up the back of Chad’s neck, scoring his nails against Chad’s scalp. Chad couldn’t help his gasp, or the excited thump of his heart. Romeo scratched his scalp, and his nerves twitched and tingled until he relaxed, and sighed into the touches. A moan rumbled from deep in his chest, and Romeo responded, digging his nails in harder until Chad shivered.
Chad felt himself getting hard again, a heavy heat in his crotch. It became unbearable, and he shifted his hips for the friction of his pants. He panted, then opened his eyes. Romeo stopped rubbing, and Chad glanced up at him. He was deadly still, body frozen, as if poised to strike. The excited gleam was back in his eyes, and a slow smile spread his lips.
His hand shot down, but Chad grabbed his wrist in time, stopping him.
“Why not?” Romeo asked. “It’s a release, that’s all—”
“No.”
“You know I can make you feel good.”
Chad licked his lips, inwardly begging his erection to go down, and his heart to calm.
“I know you could, but you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t feel good.”
Romeo sighed, backing away. He went back to the stove and stirred the pasta sauce he’d been making. He tried some, then bobbed his head. “Needs a little more salt.”
Chad’s head spun. It was like the incident in the shower. Romeo acted as if it hadn’t happened, changed the subject completely, carrying on. Chad couldn�
�t, not this time.
“Why?” Chad asked.
“It’ll improve the taste.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Why…”
Romeo sighed. “Because I want all of you.”
“All of me?”
“Yeah.”
“Haven’t you had enough? I’ve spilled my secrets to you. You’ve compromised enough of me.”
“I thought so, too, but no. I find you fascinating, Chad, and I want more.”
“You can’t have more.”
“You’ll enjoy it, and so will I.”
“I won’t,” Chad said through his teeth. “It’d be wrong.”
Romeo shrugged. “You’re being stubborn.”
Chad picked his crutches off the floor, got to his feet, then left the room. He felt Romeo’s gaze on his back, but ignored it, hobbling into the living room.
He looked at all the articles on the wall, but the static pictures weren’t enough. He needed to hear and see the monster Romeo was, and the easiest way to do it wasn’t staring at him in the kitchen but watching the news where they spoke about him. Where the hosts’ faces said all anyone needed to know about Romeo.
Chad sat down, flicked the TV on, and immediately got an emotional punch to his gut. The picture of him and Toby was on the screen, his most sacred picture, used to talk about his murder. He didn’t have much when he moved into Neil’s mansion, barely a possession to his name, but that photograph was completely priceless.
There was only one picture of him and Toby, only one photograph taken with a disposable camera. It was private, secret, a rare happy moment, two days before Chad had taken him to the vet and said goodbye.
Chad had taken him to the duck pond, had to carry him there from the road, and an energy came back to Toby when he saw the water. He’d even instigated a game of fetch with a stick although couldn’t move far. Toby had been happy, and for a few hours, Chad had forgotten what was coming and was happy, too.
“Why would you give them that?” he asked.
It wasn’t a recent picture. He didn’t even have his hair like that anymore or wear those clothes. Neil wasn’t there to answer, but Romeo was.
“Because you look miserable in all the ones with your fiancé.”
“What?” Chad snapped.
Romeo leaned against the doorway, gesturing at the wallpaper around the living room. Chad focused on the pictures of him and Neil. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he didn’t lean into Neil’s embrace.
“That’s a real smile,” Romeo said. “You look happy. You look … good, really good.”
The photograph of himself and Toby was no longer on screen, but knowing that everybody in the county, however many people watched the news, and Romeo, had all seen Chad’s secret, hurt. The only thing he’d ever really cared about.
“That’s Toby then? He looks just as happy as you in that picture.”
“It’s—it’s private.”
“Not anymore.”
Chad curled his fingers around his engagement ring, but it wouldn’t move. He growled, giving up.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Be here. I have to get out of here, I have to sort my head out.”
He got up, moved to the doorway, but Romeo didn’t budge. “Go where?”
“I have to leave. I’ll walk across the fields—”
“You’re not strong enough.”
“Get out of my way!”
“No. You know I can’t let you go.”
Chad flared his nostrils. “Move.”
“I think you should calm down. You’re gonna damage yourself.”
“Damage myself?” Chad laughed. “I’m already damaged. I’m beyond repair.”
“Two more weeks, and I would’ve finish—”
“You think I care about your twisted fantasy. I don’t care. I don’t care about any of this right now,” Chad said gesturing to the walls, to the TV that was still on behind him. “I have to get away, I have to leave.”
“I’m not gonna let you.”
Chad gritted his teeth, dropped one of his crutches, and swung his fist at Romeo. He didn’t react quickly enough, and Chad caught him. He bumped into the doorframe, lost balance, then fell to the floor. He looked up at Chad, wide-eyed, with his lip bleeding, and the guilt was immediate.
Immediate, but confusing. Chad gawped at Romeo on the floor, focusing on the damage he’d done. He’d knocked down his captor, the countdown killer, the monster, but he didn’t feel good about it.
He had to get away.
Chad bent down to retrieve his crutch, then as quick as he could, left the room, then the farmhouse, and found himself halfway across the first field. It was cold on his bare feet, and so hard each step jarred his spine. The ground was uneven, so he staggered, struggled to stay upright, and carried on. He tripped, only stopping his fall by putting all his weight on his bad leg. The pain went straight through him, stealing his breath, spinning his head.
Chad lost one of his crutches, dropping it while he hobbled onwards with agony surging through him.
He was soon out of breath, rasping and tired, and ended up sinking to the cold earth, staring at the journey ahead he knew he couldn’t make. Romeo was right; he wasn’t strong enough.
His fall to the ground wasn’t graceful. He couldn’t land on his knees and scream like in the movies—he collapsed in slow motion, until he was lying on his side, between the molds of mud. The smell of earth filled his nose, and he looked into the distance, to the freedom he knew was there, but all he could see was gray mud, and gray clouds.
Romeo stopped beside him, staring into the distance. He dabbed a tissue on his bloodied lip, then looked down at Chad.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
He helped Chad to his feet, slung one of Chad’s arms over his neck, and held his abandoned crutch in his hand. They limped back to the farmhouse, and instead of feeling disappointed his great escape had failed, he only felt relief when he stepped inside. The farmhouse that smelled nice, that was warm, and somehow comforting. They passed through the kitchen. Chad saw their bowls in the sink from breakfast that morning, and he saw the newspaper still open on the unfinished crossword. The scene was domestic, strange.
Romeo helped him into the living room, then laid him down on the mattress in front of the fire. He stared straight up at the patchy ceiling, didn’t speak, didn’t move, just existed.
He listened as Romeo pottered about, tending to the fire, disappearing into the kitchen, the stomps of his feet on the stairs.
He returned a while later with coffee. Chad didn’t look at him, but could smell it. The rich aroma, Romeo liked his sweet, three sugars Chad recalled.
“I’ve made you a coffee.”
Chad said nothing, only continued his staring contest with the ceiling wishing Romeo would leave him alone.
“I’m sorry about Toby.”
“Sorry he’s splashed all over the news or sorry he’s dead?”
“Both I guess.” Romeo sat down on the mattress. “If only you’d swung like that when we first met…”
Chad couldn’t look at him. Romeo’s swollen lip made him feel all sorts of conflicting feelings, the ugly lump he’d put on his perfect face. Chad only just stopped himself from apologizing, but he wanted to. He wanted to say sorry despite the times Romeo had knocked him out. Despite who Romeo was.
“When I used to get in sulks—”
“I’m not in a sulk.”
Romeo lifted his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say you were, I’m just saying, when I’d get in sulks, my mum would tell me awful jokes until I laughed.”
“Please God, spare me,” Chad said covering his eyes with his hands.
“Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?”
“Are we really doing this?”
“Because their pee doesn’t make a sound,” Romeo finished.
Chad pressed his lips together, refus
ing to smile.
“Okay, tough crowd. Sometimes I tuck my knees into my chest and lean forward… That’s just how I roll.”
Chad went from pressing his lips together, to biting them shut.
“What do you call someone with no body and no nose?”
Chad didn’t answer.
“Nobody knows.”
He laughed, removing his hands from his face. Romeo beamed a smile at him, then poked his cheek.
“Made you laugh.”
“It’s a pity laugh.”
Romeo shrugged. “Laugh’s still a laugh.”
“I’m one joke away from asking you to chain me up in the barn.”
“That’s harsh. They’re not that bad.”
“Romeo, they’re awful.”
“Look, they’re designed to make you laugh, and they did. They’ve served their purpose, and I’ve served mine cheering you up.”
Chad sat up. “Why do you even care I’m upset?”
“Your miserable face is an eyesore.”
Chad chuckled, shaking his head.
“Your coffee’s there.”
“Thanks,” Chad whispered.
“I thought we’d take a break from the kids’ cartoons and the quiz shows,” Romeo said, lifting the remote. “How about a movie?”
“Please not an awful action one…”
Romeo switched on the TV, then flicked through the categories. “Romantic comedy.”
“A definite no.”
“Detective thrillers.”
“See someone do it better than me? No thanks.”
“Don’t be harsh on yourself. You did kinda catch me.”
Chad mock applauded. “That’s probably your best joke so far.”
Romeo grinned. “Okay, you pick.”
He passed the remote to Chad, and he scrolled through the movies, settling on a sci-fi one, utter escapism from their messed-up situation.
“Aliens Attack,” Romeo read.
“Yep.”
“Fine, get it ready. I’ll get the snacks, and beers.”
Chad smiled. “With a little umbrella in the top?”
“Maybe if you’re lucky.”
Romeo returned with two bottles of beer, one with a yellow umbrella poking out. “I’ll be right back.” He rushed back out, then came back with a bowl of potato chips.
Chad pressed play, then let Romeo help him up onto the sofa. They sat close, with their thighs pressed together. Romeo lifted his arm, making his intentions clear, snaking it around Chad’s neck to pull him closer. Chad didn’t protest. He leaned into him, relaxing until the side of his face was resting on Romeo’s chest.
One for Sorrow Page 17
