by Anna J.
I started to hide her ass in the basement in Tasker Homes and let the rats eat her corpse, but the residents didn’t deserve that kind of torture from having to smell a dead body for weeks on end. They weren’t the type to snitch over there, so she would have just sat until there was nothing but bones left. It wasn’t their fault she was a snake-ass bitch.
When we got her to the opening, we rolled her in head first, not caring how she landed at the bottom, her body hitting with a hard thud that echoed a little in the quiet of the night. Immediately, we began filling the hole again, each pile of dirt hitting harder than the last. No words of solitude. No prayers for forgiveness or a peaceful rest. No remorse. I got her before she got me. That’s the way the game was played.
Once we were satisfied with the filling of the hole, I knew the hole she had placed in my heart wouldn’t last long. I hated to have to do this to her, but she begged me for it. Skye knew it too. Shit, we were the last of the Mohicans. The only difference between her and Chase was no one would look for her for long. They would inquire, but she’d be a distant memory in no time.
Taking the broom we brought along with us, I evened out the leftover earth as best as I could in the dark, being sure to sweep away our boot prints as we backed our way up out of the yard and to the car, same as we’d done before. It felt almost routine at this point.
Heading to the projects to drop our dirt in the furnace was next on the list as we undressed and bagged everything up before getting into Skye’s vehicle. Vice’s truck had been smashed days ago at the scrap yard on Essington Avenue after it was stripped of useful pieces that could be sold for cash. I wanted to be sure that it was truly the end of that bitch’s reign and she would never be heard of again.
