Page 84 of Grotesque Love

“Don’t worry, I’ll have this all cleaned up in a jiffy, princess.”

Biting down on my bottom lip, I slowly raise my head.

Open my eyes.

And scream.

In front of me, on a stone altar lies the missing blonde woman. Or what’s left of her.

He’s hacked her up into little parts and put some pieces in jars. Others in slop buckets on the floor. Cool boxes sit behind the altar, and I can only assume he’s harvesting her organs too. I want to vomit.

The steady dripping is blood, trickling down the rock into the dirt. Rivers of crimson cover everything.

But her head…

It’s still on the table, facing me. Her eyes are now flat and lifeless, but she had clearly been terrified, her mouth twisted open in a silent scream.

“Don’t worry about her love,” Carver croons, as he drops a handful of fingers into a glass jar filled with liquid. “She meant nothing. She was something to amuse myself with while I waited for you.”

I swallow back bile and say nothing as he wipes off his saw on a rag before swiping at his brow, leaving a ruby smear on his forehead.

“I’d been keeping her in there.” He motions to a huge metallic contraption I’d only ever seen in history books. It’s the shape of a person, and open with shallow blood-covered spikes lining the back of the door.

Why does Carver own an Iron Maiden? We learnt about them in history class when we studied medieval crime and punishment.

He carries on, oblivious to the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“But since you snuck into the west wing it was clearly time to move up my plans.”

Carver knows. He knows what I did, and now he’s angry with me. I know this man – no, thismonster– and while his tone is light and conversational, I know he’s furious at me for ruining his evil plans. I’ve forced his hand somehow, and he took it out on her.

I swallow back my sobs in big gasping breaths, my whole body trembling.

“I’ve been so very patient, you know.” He tilts his head,motioning an arm to a shrine of sorts on the wall parallel to the altar. “When I first saw you, I knew you were the one. But it was too soon. You were too young. If I’d made my move back then, you would have broken far too easily.”

Narrowing my eyes, I squint in the dimly lit cavern room. The shrine comes into focus. Newspaper clippings from my mother’s funeral, their wedding, pictures where the three of us had been out in public together…and my school pictures. Pictures of me in the school yard. Pictures of me playing in a park. At the beach with my mother.

All taken years before Carver came into our lives.

“I needed to be near you, to keep you safe until it was time.” He lifts the dead woman’s head by its hair before dropping it into a bucket with a clang, the sound echoing slightly on the stone walls.

I gag.

My stomach rebels as I struggle to keep from throwing up, Closing my eyes, I turn my head away. This can’t be happening.

“Arianwen, sweetheart,” Carver croons. I shudder and shake my head, refusing to look at him. “Look at me, Rapunzel…Look at me!”

There’s a metallic bang that makes me jump and my eyes inadvertently fly open. Carver has kicked the bucket in his anger and the woman’s head has rolled out, coming to rest at my feet. Her wide, terrified, unseeing eyes stare up into mine, as if begging for my help.

“That’s better,” he says with a faux calmness. “I need you to understand that…I never loved your mother. It was always you.”

Carver married my mum when I was ten.

He loved me?

Horror slicks over my skin like tar and settles in the pit of my stomach, the acidic taste choking me.

“What did you say?” My voice barely scratches out a whisper, trembling like my limbs.

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