Page 61 of Grave Intentions

Inside, I hear Mr. Wilson’s heavy footsteps and grumbling.The floorboards creak under his weight. Each step closer sends ice through my veins as memories of his hands on me resurface. I wrap my arms around myself, fighting the urge to run. Talon’s presence somewhere in the shadows steadies me.

The door swings open. Mr. Wilson’s bulky frame fills the doorway, his beady eyes widening. The stench of whiskey wafts from him, making my stomach turn.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His words slur together, his face reddening.

I force my voice to remain steady. “I don’t have classes tomorrow. With everything that’s happened with David, I just...” I swallow hard, channeling the grief I’m supposed to feel. “I needed something familiar. Somewhere that feels like home.”

His eyes narrow, scanning me up and down in a way that makes my skin crawl. The porch light casts harsh shadows across his face, deepening the cruel lines around his mouth.

“You look different,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “City life’s changed you.”

I drop my gaze to the ground, playing the part of the broken foster daughter. “Everything’s changed since David disappeared. I just... I don’t know where else to go.”

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I keep my expression vulnerable. Open. Just as Talon and I planned.

Mr. Wilson steps aside, waving me in with exaggerated courtesy. The familiar musty smell of the house hits me—stale cigarettes and cheap bourbon. His hand brushes against me as I pass, making my skin crawl beneath my sweater. I clench my jaw, fighting back bile.

“Been a while since you’ve been home.” His words drip with something dark. “Must be lonely without David around.”

I wrap my arms tighter around myself, keeping my eyes down. “I need to freshen up. Maybe take a shower.”

A predatory grin spreads across his face. “I could join you. We’re all alone here tonight. Mrs. Wilson has her weekly book club meeting. I could make sure you don’t slip.” He leans closer, alcohol heavy on his breath. “Give me a little show like the old days.”

My hands shake as memories flood back—the terror, the pain, being trapped in this house with nowhere to run. But now it’s different. Talon is waiting upstairs, climbing the familiar route to my old bedroom window.

I stay calm, remembering our plan. Every degrading comment and violation leads exactly where we want it to.

I climb the familiar stairs, my footsteps light against the worn carpet. Mr. Wilson’s heavy breathing follows close behind. The sound makes me jumpy, but I keep moving forward.

My old bedroom door looms ahead. Everything looks smaller now, less intimidating than when I was a child. I reach for the light switch with trembling fingers, flicking it on. The yellow glow fills the room as I step inside.

Mr. Wilson stumbles in after me, his eyes glazed from the whiskey. The door slams shut behind him with a thunderous bang. His head whips around, face contorting in shock as he spots Talon.

“What the—” His meaty hand fumbles for his cell phone.

I snatch it from his grasp before he can get his fingers around it. The device feels cold and heavy in my palm.

“What is this?” Mr. Wilson’s voice rises to a hysterical pitch. His eyes dart between Talon and me like a cornered animal. “What are you doing in my house?”

Sweat beads on his forehead as he backs away from the door. His chest heaves with panicked breaths.

“You can’t... you’re not supposed to be here.” He points a shaking finger at Talon. “I got rid of you. I made sure you were gone!”

The confidence and cruelty from moments ago evaporate as Mr. Wilson realizes he’s the one trapped and at our mercy for once. His face drains of color when he notices the knife in Talon’s hand, leaving him pale and sickly under the harsh bedroom light.

The air feels heavy, pregnant with the promise of violence. Talon’s eyes meet mine, his expression dark and unyielding. Mr. Wilson’s eyes dart between us like a trapped animal, his face a mask of fear.

Talon moves with lightning speed. He grabs Mr. Wilson by the collar, pushing him face-first onto the bed. Before he can struggle, Talon has him tied up, gagged, and trussed like a pig ready for roasting. His clothes are gone, and my former abuser isleft naked and vulnerable, just as I was when he forced himself inside me.

This is it.

My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of adrenaline and something else... excitement. I try to tamp down the rebellious thrill coursing through me, but it’s no use. A deviant smile tugs at my lips.

Talon hands me the knife. It’s cold and heavy in my palm, a weighty promise of retribution. My breath catches as Mr. Wilson’s eyes meet mine, pleading and terrified.

I remember the nightmares, the bruises, the sheer terror he instilled in me. But now, the power dynamic has shifted. I’m in control.

With steady hands, I bring the knife to his shoulder, drawing a shallow line across his skin. A bead of red rises to the surface, trickling down his arm. He thrashes against his restraints, his muffled whines filling the room. But Talon and I only smile at each other.

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