Page 10 of Moth to a Flame

“Goodbye.” The knife does the rest of the talking for me.

His blood gushes on the collar of his shirt and the cushion.

Taking a man’s life should’ve bothered me. My stomach should’ve churned, at the very least. Except this isn’t my first encounter with death. Not to mention this feels a lot like justice.

A sense of triumph fills me. Uplifts me.

Maybe loving something isn’t such a bad thing after all.

I wait out his shudders. The spasming. For the rising and falling of his chest to slow to a stop.

Locating a bag is the next item on my to-do list. A gift isn’t really a gift if it’s not wrapped, is it?

I’m in his kitchen, plucking a black trash bag out of one of the drawers.

My nose scrunches in a derisive gesture. Yeah, not the best I could’ve chosen for Regan.

First impressions are everything.

I’ll make the second one count.

Therewillbe a next time, and I’ll do better then. A velvet box for her. My Regan.

Not yours.

This voice isn’t my dad’s. It’s mine.

Ignoring it, I crouch next to Marshall’s couch for the second time tonight. My knife slides seamlessly beneath his eyeball. I carve and slice, twist my wrist.

One, two, three and…

Pop.

First green eye is out.

I examine the white, gooey thing in my gloved hand. Who would’ve thought, two hours ago this thing leered at Regan. Now, it’s in my palm. Disconnected from its dead owner.

I drop the eyeball in the bag, remove the second one, and add it to its sibling. Both land down the bottom in a squishybloop.

The lady in the bedroom will have a nice surprise waiting for her in the morning.

By then, I’ll be long gone.

CHAPTER THREE

Regan

Me:Look, Marshall. I thought this through, and maybe we aren’t such a good match. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Sorry!

After hitting the send button, I tap my fingers on the wooden table that’s set between my kitchen and living room nervously. Stare at the screen, disturb my bottom lip, and wait for Marshall’s reply.

This is the first time I’ve rejected a man. The first time I’ve spoken to a man likethat. Will he be upset? Will he call me names?

My older sister, Rosemary, broke up with this guy a couple of years ago. He was an asshole about it. Called her a stuck-up bitch.

Marshall didn’t strike me as an asshole.

I just wasn’t into him.

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