Page 31 of Fractured

The prostitute sucks in a breath of air as she falls back. At the same time, the pimp goes limp, careening into the wall beside us and sliding down. “Run!” I command the woman who still doesn’t seem completely with it. She’s still trying to suck down a decent breath of air, but instead she’s just hyperventilating. It makes her situation worse. Within moments, her eyelids flutter, her pupils roll back, and she passes out, lying prone in a puddle of what I hope is water. Nasty.

A groan sounds from the pimp, and I smile. The dopamine release is already starting, euphoria is spreading through my system with each beat of my heart. It’s already anticipating the motions I pictured the moment I realized how similar he is to Scott. I need this excitement to make up for the missing watch. In fact, I deserve to have some fun after everything I’ve been through, and he earned this. Who knows the countless women he’s abused, or how many more will fall victim to him if he lives.

Without thought, I’m straddling the pimp. His arms are pinned between my legs, his continued struggles do nothing to throw me off. Maybe all the workouts with Vander are actually paying off. “Get off, you fucking cunt. I’ll fucking kill you,” he yells, still jerking around under my weight.

I swing the brick and it cracks against the side of his head. “You aren’t in a position to tell me what to do. It doesn’t feel good to have someone else take your control away, does it?” I taunt him.

Blood trickles from the fresh wound I gave him. His eyes spit fire and his nostrils flair. “I’m going to tie you down and run a train on you, slut. You’ll be my newest cash cow. Your pussy will be so stretched out you won’t be able to hold another cock in it again. I’ll fuck up your life!”

I laugh in his face. “Wow. Your threats really have me shaking. Oh please, sir, let me go! Don’t allow the big bad men to rape me,” I say, grabbing his throat with my free hand. With a squeeze, his hair supply cuts off. “Oh, wait. That’s right. I’m the one holding you down.”

With another cackle, I swing my hand down again. His head bounces against the cement with the impact and his eyes are slow to focus on me. His wound splits open even further, gushing with my favorite color. It spreads down his face, painting it into something easier to look at. “Your sins have caught up with you, Reggie, and now it’s time for you to go to your rightful home. Hell is calling. Now it’s time you answer.”

The brick kisses his head again and again. His struggles fade out as I’m speckled with blood flying off the brick. His eyes lose their focus and his thready heartbeat slows under my fingertips wrapped around his neck. I drop the brick so I can watch the life fade from his open eyes. A word pops in my head and it’s the most perfect thing to be the last thing he hears. I lean down so my lips are right by his ear without touching him. “Nevermore,” I say, like it’s the most seductive word in existence.

Leaning back, I’m able to catch the last moments of his life. The raspy sound of his labored breathing cuts out suddenly, and his eyes lose focus, becoming vacant windows. I let out a sigh as peace relaxes me, and a moment later, a shiver of excitement travels down my spine. This feels better than I remember. Why did I ever talk myself out of doing this again?

A ringing sounds from my tote that’s lying next to the wall where I threw it. I wipe my hands off on Reggie’s shirt, then pop to my feet and skip over to the bag, digging through it to grab my phone. “Hello!” I say cheerily.

“Where the fuck are you? I’ve been calling for ten minutes. What the hell, Remi. You know better than to wander off. You should have waited for me,” he rants, not giving me a chance to cut in.

“So sorry, Vander. I’m coming down the side alley now to the back of the building,” I purr. There’s too much joy bubbling up inside me to keep it all in.

“I’m—What?” I can imagine the screwed-up expression on his face. It’s a rare thing to throw Vander off his game.

The car slides into view at the end of the tunnel-like path I'm skipping down. I hum as I slide inside the backseat before he can get out to open my door. Thankfully, the interior light doesn’t turn on and it’s too dark for Vander to see anything. “To home we go, Vander!”

I bite my bottom lip and admire the pattern of blood splattered on the back of my hand. “What’s wrong with you?” Vander puzzles. “Did you take some drugs? Should I take you to the hospital?” he asks as I continue humming under my breath.

“I’m great, Vander, better than great. Just had the best night. No need to worry. I’m just living life to its fullest.” He glances in the rearview mirror, but I duck my head, letting my hair fall across my face to hide myself from view. Vander doesn’t reply, which is just fine with me.

I kinda enjoy the way drying blood feels on my skin this time. It’s like body paint. I feel powerful wearing it, sexy even.

This time I didn’t make the mistake of taking a souvenir from my fun. I don’t want to risk my asshole stalker taking it away again. I’ll need to come up with another way of commemorating the two occurrences. Maybe my stalker will create a digital photo album for me to use.

Shit. I was so wrapped up in the joy of the kill that I forgot everything my stalker has been trying to teach me. I’m a fucking moron. I should have staged the scene and put the brick in the hooker’s hand. Made it look like she was the one who beat him in self-defense. I bet she would find it empowering thinking she defended herself in such a way. With how out of it she was, I’m fully convinced she won't remember anything that happened. I have that going for me at least.

We pull up to the front of my house and I’m quick to throw the car door open. Dashing for the steps, I try to make it into the house without Vander seeing me. He must have anticipated such a move because I barely make it up two steps before his strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off my feet.

“I don’t fucking think so. You’re going to stay right here and tell me what has you acting so weird.” He turns me around and it only takes a millisecond for his eyes to go wide with fear. His hand grips my chin, and he turns me from side to side, searching for the source of the blood spattered all over me. Then he holds me at arms’ length, eyes traveling over every inch. “What the hell happened?”

“Umm…” I give him a big grin, showing way too much teeth. Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I had a little fun before getting in the car.”

“Fucking hell, Remington. Please tell me you didn’t kill Grayson. You know they’ll come looking at you first. There’s other ways to get rid of him. Are you sure none of this blood is yours? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We’re wasting precious time right now that could be spent getting rid of the evidence.” The concern mostly leaves his gaze, with just a hint lingering. It’s mostly replaced with annoyance. Huh. I thought this conversation would go drastically different. Anger, disgust, fear. Those I would have expected. Not acceptance, and a willingness to hide the body. I guess I can consider him my best friend now. That’s the kind of thing best friends promise each other, right? To help hide a body if the other kills someone?

I glance down at myself and see even more of the splatter in the light coming off the house. “Doesn’t it look pretty?” I ask him as I pose with my hands under my chin. He doesn’t crack even the smallest of smiles. Not even when I flutter my eyelashes.

“That’s the only thing you have to say for yourself?” Vander hisses.

“Why would I kill Grayson?” I raise an eyebrow and quirk my head. And here he thought I was the one being weird.

“For fuck’s sake. Can we please concentrate on the important part of what I said?” His words are sharp and said under his breath. “Where. Is. The. Body?”

“You didn’t ask that question before. How was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted me to answer? The pimp is in the alley where you picked me up. Oh! Can we take a picture so I can save it on the dark web?” I turn around to climb back into the car.

Vander catches my arm in his vice-like hold. “Where do you think you’re going?” he rumbles in my ear.

“With you,” I quip as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

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