Page 26 of Tormenting Me

Her October eyes, so full of passion, look up at me. I know I have to tell her. She needs to know who I am. What I do, and I hope she can find it in her heart to accept me for what I am.

“Ma Petite Mort, If I told you about all the darkness inside of me, would you still look at me like you do right now?“ I cradle her face and press my lips to hers. Confusion meets me as I look at her. “I do terrible things, baby, and I do them very well.”

I collapse onto the soft bed, bringing her close to my chest. As she presses, her soft voice whispers, “Tell me.”

I place a kiss on the top of her head. “Where do I even begin?” I sigh and begin.

“I know I’ve never really talked about my life yet, but I was a devoted older brother to a little girl. I lived and breathed for my little sister. Siobhan was the most beautiful little girl you’d ever seen. She was smart and funny and made me think my friends were crazy when they would talk about hating their younger siblings. She was murdered when she was eight years old. Our next-door neighbor picked her up on her walk home from school, tricking her into thinking that my parents sent him to get her. He raped her, then killed her, leaving her body in a shallow grave in the park we would play hide and seek in. I was the one that found her.”

My chest is heavy, and it’s hard for me to breathe through all the emotions. I’ve never shared my loss with anyone other than my parents. It was their loss more than mine. Layne holds my hand in hers, bringing the palm to her lips and she kisses me with the most tenderness I’ve ever felt and my eyes fill with tears, and I just let them fall.

Fuck don’t cry Wes.

“It’s okay, Wes. Take your time.” Layne’s thumb rubs circles on the top of my hand to soothe me.

“When the police let it slip that our neighbor was the main suspect, I went to question him. My parents were a mess, so I stepped up, doing what my father couldn’t. He confirmed it was him that killed her. He tried to say it was an accident and that he didn’t want to kill her, but she kept fighting and screaming. I killed him, Layne. I stabbed him so many times. The funny thing is, I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. I felt vindicated. Like my sister would be proud of me for avenging her.”

Layne still lies in my arms, not tense, nor showing any signs of repulsion at what I’ve just told her. Not the response I was expecting from her. I expected her to run away, calling me a psychopath. A murderer. Nope, she just stares at me with tears in her eyes, mirroring my own.

“I’ve spent the last six years ridding this city of all the scum that do the same thing. Child molesters, rapists, and whoever else I deem unworthy of living life. Never innocent people. When you told me what happened to you, and then said that your father is still alive… I knew he had to be next. I want you free from the past that haunts you.”

Layne rises from my chest. Her eyes meeting mine. “Did you kill him?”

I shake my head, “I know where he is though, and he isn’t dead. Yet.”

Chapter nineteen

Layne

Did Wes just confess to being a serial killer? Well, not really a “serial killer”, more like a vigilante that is hellbent on making the world a better place.

The weight of his words is overwhelming, filing my thoughts. He shared the heartbreaking story of his poor little sister, whose life someone stole from her. How he made the personal decision to seek vengeance, it should repulse me from a societal standpoint, that the man whom I gave my virginity to kills people. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. I see inside Wes’s heart and I know he is doing it with a purpose.

What does that say about you Layne?

I push aside the negative voice inside and climb on top of him, straddling his waist. His eyes, still wet from the tears, peer into mine. “Were you expecting me to run?” I say, swiping my thumbs under his eyes to wipe away the moisture.

He grins as his hand wraps around my throat and pulls my face to his. “No, I didn’t. Okay, maybe I thought you’d run. But then I remembered that you didn’t run that very first night. You’re just as fucked up as I am. We’re a perfect match for each other in any life.” His words warm my heart.

It’s feeling that way.

“How the fuck are you so perfect?” He crashes his lips into mine for a long kiss.

“I’m far from perfect,” I mumble against his lips. “Perfect really doesn’t come to mind when I think of myself.”

I pull away, realizing he said that he knows where my father is. “I want him dead, Wes. He shouldn’t get to breathe another day. His lungs should burn the way mine did while he and my mother killed me.”

Wes pulls himself up to a seated position. His fingers trace my jaw. “You say the words, baby. You say them and he’s dead.”

With no hesitation, the words flow effortlessly from my lips. “I want him dead.”

“Done.”

Wes pulls me back into his embrace, and I’m overwhelmed by his comforting scent. Smoke with cedar and a hint of the ocean. “God, Layne. Thank you.”

I giggle at his words. “For what?” His lips find my neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and bites, making me moan.

“I’m grateful is all. For your kindness and all the ways you show it to me. You’re accepting of every part of me, especially the darkest parts.”

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