Page 49 of Beneath the Dirt

His hand curls on the doorknob. “You’re right, it’s not just a necklace,” he says so nonchalantly it makes me wonder if I’m hearing things… again. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Your mom left it for you. It means everything to you. It’s the only way I knew how to get you here.”

It’s just in your head, Araceli. Focus. You’re so close.

“Awww,” I echo his condescending nature. “How cute. Someone missed their little sister, didn’t they?” I pout.

My words rob him of his brief moment of vulnerability. In an instant, his demeanor shifts. The warm sentiment of why he stole the necklace, gone, and in its place a much colder version ofHarlan that I’m not sure I can get used to, stands before me. Tempting me to play. Enticing me with his newfound darkness.

He closes—or ratherslams—the door shut, locking us in, and I could’ve sworn I heard him mumble, “It’s how I’m going to keep you here.” Though, as I look at the monster that my big,fuckable,brother has become, his mouth is shut and it’s my body doing all the talking. Begging me to not be so stubborn and open up to him like he deserves. Like an apologetic whore.His apologetic whore.

Fourteen

She’s back.I knew she’d be.

Disappointment rattles me as I stare at her plump ass—that she somehow managed to secure in those tight pants—jiggling with each step she takes past me. Not that the view isn’t delicious. At least she didn’t run away this time, so we’re off to a good start.

Fuck, I’ve waited so fucking long to be able to have her at my disposal and I can touch her. Tease her. Sink my fucking hands so deep inside her that she’ll pray to a god she doesn’t believe in—that neither of us do—all because she’s so terrified of what I’ve become because of her betrayal. She opened my eyes to what life could be without the confines of religion being shoved down my throat. If anything, I should thank her for unleashing my inner demon, for letting him roam free and allow me to be who I’ve always wanted. A lost, wandering soul content with his brokenness, not in the market to have it patched up for some sky Daddy’s ego.

Though this isn’t how I envisioned our reunion going. Yeah, I figured she’d be pissed I stole her necklace, but it worked. I got her attention. However, this act of indifference she has is insulting. Despite me being able to smell the arousal leaking onto—from what my eyes can manage with the visiblepanty lines centered on her bottom in between two of the roundest ass cheeks I’ve ever seen outside of a fucking porno—her thong.

Has she not missed me like I have missed her?

Did our night at the haunt, when she was practically suffocating me with her pussy like a feral fucking whore, mean nothing to her?

Or when she fucking rode my dick in the hospital?

Did it all mean… nothing?

Seething, I slam the door. Part of me wants to tell her to lose the act. I know what she did. I watched it all. It’s all on tape. What she did yesterday before I paid her a visit and now what she did tonight, killing Fred, the security guard. I can’t believe she did that to him without what looked like a second thought or an ounce of remorse.

My fists clench into a ball still lingering on the doorknob, but all my gaze can focus on is the blood. Fred’s blood, now on my hands, competing with the ink that paints my flesh.

The crimson becoming a catalyst to that night at Heathen’s Cross. Buckets of it. Being poured on us both.

Fuck.

Why…

How…

How the fuck can blood suit her like that and make my dick so fucking hard like it is right now?

How…

How…

Ho—

My internal rumblings cut off from her voice, cutting into the air. Even with my inner spiraling, there was such peace in the air before she came here and infected it once again with her presence.

I pivot my stance and my vision is consumed once more by her. With no other choice, I drink her like the poison she is as my steps trail hers. Except her toxicity isn’t the kind that kills. Not right away, at least. It takes its sweet fucking time, infusing itsdeadly potion slowly into the bloodstream with diabolical precision… just like her.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

She isn’t lying. She’s probably wet over the fact that this place—our home—has gone to shit. Ever since Dad became too sick to maintain it and the burden fell on me, I decided I no longer give a fuck about keeping up appearances. I let the earth do what it does best to things no longer worthy of tender loving care…rot.

Where white molding used to define the tall ceiling, it now is a spider's playground. The floral wallpaper glued to the walls is now a backdrop to the abundant and thick cobwebs that drape over them. So many, in fact, that it gives the illusion that I went to the Halloween shop—like the one we went to years ago—and put them up on purpose, but I didn’t. They are as real as my hatred for her and as tangible as the blood rushing to my cock as I watch her take in the wreckage I’ve lived in, waiting for her to return to me.

“Thanks,” I deadpan. Impatience doing a number on my body, already growing bored of this drawn-out act.

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