Page 21 of Buried Beneath Sin

My hands clench at my side as my heart races.

Everything Patrick touches ends up ruined. The proof is everywhere. From the dilapidated house to my mother’s life and now to mine. He ruins everything. Not that life was great to begin with, but it was better without Patrick in it. I’m tired. So fucking tired. The heartaches, the drugs, the pain, the raping—it’s too much. I can’t keep doing this. I’m done.

The house is in my name now.

Patrick’s words echo in my head. In my heart, the cavernous hole that’s filled with resentment expands even further and continues to fill with hatred. My footsteps are light as I move toward the dresser. Crouching down, I pull the bottom drawer open and rummage through the articles of clothing there.

When I find what I’m looking for, I move to the window facing the road and open it just a crack. Carefully, I dangle half of the scarf outside and let the other lay down along the wall. When I close the window, the scarf dangles both in and out of the house.

The beautiful red wool is vibrant against the burned black wall.

12

SAGAN

Ican smell her before I see her. I can taste her before I hear her.

My vicious, unassuming, marvelous wonder of a pet loves the scent of lavender and honey. Her lotions hold the strongest of these smells, but the crystal perfume bottles that are hidden away in a green and gold antique jewelry box in her closet also house similar scents. She doesn’t use the artificial smells often, yet she must’ve worn them so much throughout her life that it’s become a part of her. It’s a comforting combination. It’s not overly floral nor is it sickeningly sweet. It’s a perfect blend that makes you want to lean in and take a deep breath before you let every bone in your body loosen and relax.

It's a dangerous perfume for someone like me. As someone who’s always tense and ready to strike, a drug to loosen up is curiously appealing. What would happen if I allowed myself to become intoxicated by the scent that lingers on my pet’s skin? I would hate to be the innocent victim that found out just how drunk I could get from the aroma in the air.

“Alright, this is probably what you’ve been scared of, but really, it’s the most beautiful and easy part of the journey,” I hear my Little Viper say.

Her sultry voice sends shivers down my spine. I could listen to her speak all day. It’s a shame how quiet she is when she’s in the house.

My footsteps slow but I don’t stop as I approach the cremation chamber. The door is typically shut, but she has it open this evening.

Beatrix doesn't see me as I come to stand in the doorway. Given that I’m dressed in all black and she keeps only a few lights on back here to keep the electricity bill down, I’m cast in darkness. I use it to my advantage to study her. As always, my pet has her thick, dark, curly hair parted down the middle with two braids that curve along the shape of her skull before dangling a few inches past her shoulders. This is her go-to style. A way to keep the hair out of her face as she works, probably. Her work attire, which consists of a fitted silk quarter-sleeve shirt and trousers, is all black. Just like her braids, the color black seems to be a comfort for her. Then again, given that she works in a funeral home, maybe black is just the staple color.

With a slight limp to her gait—a gift she’s received recently, no doubt from my father—she rolls the table with the deceased on it toward the cremation furnace. The massive machine takes up an entire car port of the four-car garage back here. There’s an empty port, then a black van in the following one, then, on the far wall on the other side of the room, is the hearse. Along the wall to my left is the processor where she puts pieces of the bodies she’s burned that didn’t quite become small enough. I enjoy the sound of the grinding as it chews up teeth and lingering bones.

“Now, what's going to happen is I'll roll you in and shut the door. It'll be warm for a bit and then it'll be over. I'll hang out here for a while but then give you some privacy. It'll feel like you're in a sauna. Think of this as a spa day.”

My mouth twitches as amusement flickers to life in my chest. My pet isn't afraid of death. In fact, from all that I've seen, she's more comfortable around the deceased than the living. The fact that she is kind to those who can't appreciate it is both confusing and endearing. My Little Viper is a strange young woman.

I like it.

“Ok, like I said, it's about to get warm.” She moves around the body and pushes a button. The square door to the furnace opens and the heat from it washes over me. Her gaze remains on the deceased’s face as she comes to stand by their head. “Alright, I'll see you soon, ok?”

With that, she reaches up and pushes the cardboard coffin into the oven. The rollers on the table help her move the body into the furnace with ease. While she walks over to shut the machine, I shoulder my backpack and brace myself. Just as the door to the oven shuts, I reach into the room and flip the light switch off. For a second, the room is cast into darkness. Beatrix gasps as the emergency light flickers on, putting her under a spotlight.

“What the?—”

Before she can finish her sentence I’m there, wrapping one arm around her—locking both of hers by her sides. My free hand covers her mouth, muting her screams with my palm. I expect struggling, and it comes swiftly. Her body, pressed against my front, thrashes about and shakes with terror. Taking a moment, I allow her to struggle with all her might, loving the heat that radiates from her and how fresh her scent is in my nose.

I groan as my cock grows hard.

Beatrix tries to jerk her head back to break my nose. She’s lucky I’m quick. I pull my head out of reach just in time. Her heel gets me in the shin. The pain that ripples up my leg, though brief, causes my cock to harden further. Oh fuck… The pain, her scent, the trembling of terror—it’s all perfect. Lifting her up offher feet, I move forward until her midsection hits the table her client had just been laying on. Her breath is knocked out of her, and she's forced to bend over to lay her chest flat against the rollers. At this angle I have to let go of her mouth.

“No!Please,Trevor, don’t do this!”

Trevor? Who the fuck is Trevor?

Dark, molten rage rides in on a storm cloud. I’ve been watching my pet for months—I haven’t heard about anyTrevorin her life. Why would she think I was him? The anger in my gut grows more intense. Someone’s been messing with my Little Viper.

My teeth gnash together at the thought.

“Trevor! Don't do this!” she screeches as I wrestle her hands together behind her back.

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