Page 100 of Entombed In Sin

Ever since I started feeling that warm sticky goo clinging to my insides whenever she comes around, I’ve known where my feelings stand when it comes to Beatrix. I should’ve told her right when I realized it—that I love her. She wouldn’t throw it back in my face or use it against me in some way. So why didn’t I? Is it because I know my love isn’t as pure as hers?

My love is rough around the edges. I’m the splinter that digs under your skin—an irritant but otherwise seemingly harmless. But I’m also the infection that seeps into your blood because you disregard the dangers of such a simple, underestimated threat.

I’m not pleasant to be around for long periods of time. I know that. My love looks unappealing because, despite the fact I can lower my guard around you, the person behind that wall is a bit of a brat. My attitude is something I’ve stopped fighting to keep at bay, and I’m quick to judge. I’m defensive and wary, possessive and needy. Beatrix has seen it all—having been around me and the twins for a few weeks now.

Despite it all, even with all my flaws, Beatrix loves me. She loves me for who I am. I can’t ask for anything better than that.Except, maybe that she fuckinglivesso I can show her just how much she means to me.

I watch as Thatcher slips out of the house.

The Hunt twins will catch Angel Eyes, I’m sure of that. So rather than worry about what those two are up against, I turn around to head for the kitchen.

Except as I do, the room spins. My stomach clenches painfully and the beads of sweat that gathered on my forehead earlier begin to run down my face. Shit. I reach out and brace a hand against the wall. Shannon may have thought she cleaned my damaged eye socket, but I’m pretty sure there’s an infection ravaging my body right now. I could feel the start of it yesterday. On top of the constant, heavy throbbing pain radiating from the empty eye socket that was so intense I’m surprised my skull hasn’t cracked open from it, the first signs of a new problem emerged. The rolling waves of heat and sudden, harsh chills had come on slowly, but when I recognized them for what they were, I knew I was in trouble. I haven’t mentioned it to Beatrix. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything except fret.

The pain and fever—as serious as they may be—wasn’t the most important issue at hand. Keeping positive was. It was clear that Beatrix was slowly sinking into herself. Given what she was going through, I don’t blame her. But I couldn’t let that happen. She needed the constant conversation to keep her mind preoccupied and from giving up. So I talked. I talked for hours, and even when she didn’t respond, I continued to talk. She fell asleep and woke to the sound of my voice. I didn’t, for a second, want her to think she was alone in this. While I talked, I was counting down the seconds until I could get to her. To crush her to me, todevourher in order to save her from the two fuckers who tried to claim a piece ofmygirl.

But this morning I had to fight to keep food down and sitting up had been difficult. When she escaped and killed Shannon,I had a burst of adrenaline. I carried her up those stairs and was certain I would’ve been able to carry her out of this house. The adrenaline is fading, though. My legs feel weak and wobbly. The room stops spinning, but I have a feeling it’ll start back up again once I begin walking. Watching Thatcher leave, I wonder if maybe I should have asked him to stay.

Well, that’s no longer an option. I’m the only one left and I need to get my ass moving. Baring my teeth and setting my shoulders, I force myself to head to the kitchen. Beatrix needs me. I can throw up and lie down later—when I know she’s safe.

“Ok, let’s get out of here,” I tell her as I enter the next room.

One glance down at Beatrix, though, and I know this is going to be hard. I might have the keys and access to a car, but getting to it is going to be a problem. Running out into the night, looking as I do with an unconscious, bloody, and naked woman in my arms doesn’t sound like a smart plan. Neighbors talk, after all.

The cops could be called and if they show up before I get out of here, questions are going to be asked. Answering them could get… complicated. I know taking her to the hospital will probably result in the authorities getting involved, but I don’t have any choice if I want to save Beatrix. So, I’ll have to think up something plausible to tell them on the way there. Until then, I need to be inconspicuous getting us out of this house.

Quickly, I get to work covering Beatrix. I carefully pull Thatcher’s sweatshirt over Beatrix’s head. She doesn’t stir. In fact, she hasn’t moved at all since she passed out. Her lips are losing color and her breathing is shallow. I left the plate shard in her gut, and now I worry jostling her might cause internal bleeding. On the flip side, I’m not a doctor, but I’ve killed enough people to know what happens when you pull the thing that’s stopping the flow of blood out of a body.

It’s a death sentence for her.

Fuck, I could lose her tonight if I don’t hurry. The thought is terrifying. Ican’tlose her. Without consciously thinking about it, my gaze land on her bare feet.

She’s already bleeding out, don’t make it worse! I snarl at myself as a thought crosses my mind.But I might not get a chance to do it another time if she dies tonight…

I’m back on my feet a second later, my decision made, I grab a knife from the butcher block and then crouch down by Beatrix’s feet.

“One second, Beatrix, then I’ll get you out of here,” I tell her.

I use the blade and get to work cutting off her left pinky toe. It’s a relatively easy feat, despite having to work with a dull knife. Get it right between the joints, and really, it’s just a tiny bit of cartilage and skin to contend with. It takes less than twenty seconds to remove the toe from her foot. Not knowing when I’ll have time to properly cook it, I raw dog it. I plop her little toe into my mouth like a goddamn M & M and swallow it.

“Now we’ll be together forever, Beatrix,” I tell her.

Instantly, I can sense her entering my bloodstream. I know it takes time for the body to break down the things you eat, but when you devour pieces of a person—you get that instant satisfaction that they’re one with you. This time, it’s no different.

With no time to bask in the thrill of having Beatrix be forever a part of me, I get moving again.

I tuck the phone and keys Thatcher handed to me into the sweatshirt pocket so I don’t have to worry about carrying them too, and I brace myself. With a steadying, determined breath, I bend down and scoop Beatrix up off the bloody kitchen floor. I stumble a moment as the room swims. My feet spread apart while I steady myself. My grip on her tightens, and I pull her close to my chest as I close my eyes.

“Faint later, asshole,” I growl to myself as more sweat beads down my face.

When I open my eyes, the kitchen has stopped spinning. In my arms, Beatrix doesn’t make a sound. She doesn’t even stir at the gentle jostling. My gut clenches tight.

“I got you, Shining Starr,” I tell her.

Unconscious, I doubt she heard me. Hell,Ibarely hear the words over the thundering beating of my heart. I’ve neversavedanyone before—minus digging Beatrix up out of that grave. That doesn’t count, since she was there because of me. I’m a killer. Have been for a few years.

Right now, though, that's the furthest from what I want to be.

Ihaveto protect the life that’s now cradled in my arms.

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