Page 75 of Morsel

I’m ready.

Artemis turns the corner; his footsteps tap across the cement. I pull the van out of the parking space, then change my angle until the headlights surround him.

He hits the key fob; his car beeps, and the lights flash. I drive. His eyes widen, a scared little deer in literal headlights, and his mouth opens in shock.

My ears are throbbing. I don’t hear him scream.

His body thuds against the car. I jump out.

The puny sonofabitch lies on the ground, cradling his head and moaning like a heifer. The idiot can’t move. I wasn’t driving fast, but it was enough.

And the rest is so easy now.

I pull him into the van’s cargo bay, then I find his phone, power it off, and stow it in my pocket. He’s so distracted by the pain he doesn’t even fight me.

I drive as fast as I can back to the fields. No one will see us there.

I turn onto the two-lane highway. The landfill’s hill looms in the distance, and the back of the van rattles with yelps. I turn down the radio and listen carefully to his muffled words.

“What the fuck, Kent?” he screeches. The asshole must’ve found some sudden strength to be able to scream so loud. “You can’t do this?—”

My chest expands, my fingertips tingling under the gloves. I doubt he can hear me, but I say it anyway: “But I am doing this.”

The asphalt becomes dirt, and the rooster continues to squawk like it can hurt me. It’s just like Artemis to think that words hold any power.

Words can’t save him. Words don’t mean anything.

“That was always your problem,” I say. The van rolls to a stop, and I go around to the locked doors at the rear of the vehicle. The pathetic idiot bangs on the doors. I hold the handles. I don’t release the locks yet. “You think you can fight me with your big ideas, but do you think a monster will stop if you say ‘please’?”

My laughter booms out, and for a second, Artemis’s temper tantrum stops. I imagine him behind the metal doors, cowering in a fetal position while the fear courses through his nerves.

“You hear that, motherfucker?” I scream. I whack my fists into the van. “I control everything here.”

I open the doors to the cargo bay. A fist immediately hits my face. It’s weak though, like a toddler’s attempt at fighting. Either the car crash is still working against him, or he’s just as scrawny as he seems.

Another wimpy punch, and the idiot rolls onto the dirt like a tumbleweed. He scans his surroundings for an escape.

I pull out my knife.

He jets off, but his foot immediately catches on the outer edge of the offal pit, and he slams into the hard ground.

I stab the knife into the back of his calf and pin him in place like a housefly on a mounting board. Artemis howls, and I smirk at my own thoughts. He is a housefly, isn’t he? A nuisance buzzing around where he doesn’t belong. An insect like that belongs outside, where it can find a home in the offal pit.

Even the offal pit is too good for Artemis though.

His wailing agony vibrates through me, the heady rush of invincibility going straight to my dick. My shaft is half hard, not because I want to fuck him, but because of how good it feels to finally do this. I don’t know why it took me so long. I’ve been dreaming of killing him since I first saw him at Mona’s house, and now, the cock block can’t stop what me and Mona have.

Had.

What we had.

Mona and I are different now. I’m adapting, and this is what I want.

Artemis rolls around, then reaches for his phone, but it’s gone, and I grin. His eyes fill with panic as he realizes this is where he dies. I snatch the knife from his calf, then stab the other leg. Blood soaks through his pants and mixes with the dirt. It’ll be hard for him to run now, and that makes me smile.

I grab his ankles and drag him to the industrial meat grinder. I slap handcuffs on his wrists, restraining his hands behind his back, then I grab his ponytail, and his whiny yelps fill the air.

We make it to the top of the platform, right by the hopper. My elbow flicks the power switch. The machine buzzes to life, the metal parts singing in their shrill cries. Artemis twists like a chicken right before you snap its neck on the factory line. I tighten my hold, and the stringy meat sack can’t do anything now. I’m stronger. I always have been.

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