Page 71 of Beneath the Dirt

I hear the faint rumble of machinery begin, but it’s not loud enough that I can’t hear his voice. “Oh, brujita,” Harlan says, but it’s not his voice I hear, it’s Frida. “I taught you better than this. Seeing isn’t always believing. You knew what you did. You knew what you had to do. But you ran like all the scared ones do.”

“Frida?” I call out, to which Harlan laughs manically.

“No, silly, it’s me. But sometimes they have a habit of doing that. You’ll learn soon enough. All that once was, has a tendency to linger. Whatever you heard, I wouldn’t brush it off. Trust your gut. It’s your gift. Well, our gift now. Fuck, Araceli, I could’ve given you the world. You know that? But you just had to tempt me. You had to insert me in your twisted fantasy. Now all that’s left is to give you the end you deserve, plus I’m not wearing this mask for nothing. It’s time to pay the Ferryman.”

Just like in the book. My book. My destiny.

He’s taking it for me. Ending it.

On instinct, thinking back to the picture in the journal Frida gifted me, I think of the Ferryman illustration. Remembering the woman with her mouth open to pay her debt. I need to pay mydebt so he can finally forgive me, so I do just that, and I open my mouth.

“No. Boring. I already had your mouth. Now I want something else to warm my cock. Open your legs. Be brother’s gruesome little whore and play one last time with me. I want to make good on my promise and take you to where the sun doesn’t shine and never will again. Well, not for you at least.”

He jumps into the hole, dirt spilling in at a rapid pace. He quickly undoes his belt buckle, freeing his cock, then sits on top of me—pinning me in place. Within seconds, the blade I used to kill his father is at my chin, teasing my skin.

It feels better than I care to admit. For the first time in a long time—if ever—I feel at peace. At one with my roots—with my destiny.

I look past his hovering head and up at the sky, and the hooded members with their black cloaks reemerge, all wearing the same Ferryman mask that he is.

“I don’t know why I ever bothered trying to make you happy. Sorrow suits you…just like the blood I’m about to draw.”

“Harlan, I’m sor —” I begin, but he silences me with a growl. Something burns in my chest. The knife falls from my chin to my chest.

“I don’t want your apologies. I want to see how far you’re willing to fight for your life so I can steal it from you. Do you have any fight left in you?”

No.

“I want to crush you like you’ve crushed me. I think that’s fair, wouldn't you say?”

Yes.I answer internally. Knowing deep down there’s no other way this can end… or should.

Every pass he makes across my skin, I feel the knife edge slice through my clothes, and it feels like it’s cutting through me, opening me up further for him. As his frantic slices slow, I feel his other hand begin to trace circles, smearing my blood all over me, allowing the chilly night air to bite at my skin.

“A new holy trinity. Three deaths for one renewal,” he hums.

A hiss sounds near my ear, followed by a slimy chill that slithers and wraps around my neck, robbing my air.

“He missed you,” Harlan sneers, taking the snake’s tail and gently pulling it towards him, increasing the pressure around my airway.

Dirt continues to fall, clouding the air around us and before I can say anything or scream from the pain, he guides his cock into me with such force that I can feel a ricochet of pain latch onto my spine. His thrusts hurt more than the blade did. Each slam of his hard cock is more violent than the last. Yet each time he pulls back only to give me more of him, I clench my walls around him in anticipation. Not wanting to let him go. Hoping that the next harsh blow to my center will not only grant me release, but will release me from the guilt I’ve held onto for so long. For hurting him like I did, and for being the reason he’s become as cold as he has. I’m what made him like this. I’m responsible for taking something pure, and corrupting it so badly it turned him into a monster who’s now fucking me better than anyone ever has, or ever will. I ruined him, and now it’s his turn to ruin me.

He continues his punishing thrusts into my cunt. It hurts so bad yet the more he pumps into me, the wetter I become. I look up at him. Into the eye slits of his mask, and I can feel the hollowness in his stare. Suddenly, the mask he’s been wearing doesn’t look like a mask… it looksreal. Strength ignites in my limbs and I lift my hand to his face. The decay, the jagged texture, the rot, all of it, is part of his skin. All of it is as real, and brutal, as the pounding I’m taking from him, willingly.

“Why?” I whimper.

“Because you made me who I am.”

“A villain?” I pant through the escalating pain and bliss dancing through my senses. Tricking me into believing that this isn’t the torment my mind knows it to be.

“No, little sister. The ending you deserve.”

“But I don’t want this to end.” I beg, but the stars that linemy vision let me know that this will be the last time I feel him like this.

“Tighter,” Harlan mewls, and the snake follows his command. It slithers slowly under my neck, and back around, this time facing Harlan. “Me too,” he commands it, and it springs forward, latching onto Harlan’s shoulder. Taking its sweet time, it slinks its scales around his neck before nearing me again.

“Look.”Thrust.“At.”Thrust.“Us.”Thrust.“So connected,” Harlan grunts. “So fucking doomed.” He laughs as he revs up the pace he’s wreaking havoc on my insides.

I never thought he could hurt me like this. I never dreamed he could hurt me so fucking good. But I have to remember, this isn’t him. It can’t be.

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