Page 82 of Monster
I flick my gaze around my room and attempt to breathe deeply as I take in my surroundings. My eyes land on the trees outside and I sigh in comfort—because of what lies beyond them.
I jump up from bed and strip off my clothes. I pull open my dresser and throw on a white T-shirt and some sweats before leaving my room. I practically rush down the stairs in desperation. I throw on the closest pair of shoes—which happen to be my boots—and throw open the door. Before I shut it, I set the alarm—just in case—and jog towards the trees.
Once I make it into the thick of them, I break out into a full run, efficiently ducking and swerving around branches. I know these trees like the back of my hand so I can maneuver them easily.Before too long, I make it to the break in the trees and when I step forward, I’m finally fucking there.
My place.
It’s the end of February, and the frost of winter has my poppy field trampled and unsightly, but it doesn’t matter to me—it’s never mattered to me. It’s not just the poppies themselves, but this place as a whole that brings me solace.
I take a deep breath as I look around. The late evening sun has begun to set, casting a ray of colors across the sky, but most are blocked from the heavy cloud cover moving in once again. There is a deep chill in the air, but I don’t care. It helps to cool my overheated skin.
My nightmare still lingers deep inside of my mind, but I know it’s because it is never going anywhere. I will forever be stuck with those memories and there isn’t much I can do to rid myself of them. It’s only when I get lost in a kill or lost in Essa that I don’t remember.
But right now, I just need to forget for a while.
The weeds sway gently in the breeze, and I stare, rapt. I take another deep breath and shove away the voice whispering inside of my head.I may have went through fucking hell when I was a kid, but once I got shit settled, I went after that son of a bitch. Jason Maxwell was that prick’s name. He screamed like a little bitch when I cut his dick off too.
I crack a smile at the memory. He was the first body I ever burned and buried out here. The start of it all. My first fucking kill. Leo helped me. He stood by me and gave me tips, but the main focus I had was making him hurt. I did everything to him he did to me—except a thousand times worse. The fucker was barely breathing towards the end, so I shot him up with an epi-pen I grabbed from a nurse I was fucking at the time before I doused him in gasoline and lit his ass on fire.
Fuck, I still remember the initial smell of burning flesh. It feels like it lights your nose hairs on fire. The smell is so putrid, but I took deep breath after deep breath, wallowing in it. Fucking savoring the smell and burning it into my memory because I knew then I would need it for nights like this—when the memories would come flooding back.
After that night, no murder has ever compared, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since. I think that’s how I became the one to do all of the kills for Leo. He used to be the one to do them, but when he realized not only did Ienjoydoing it, but I seemed to need it, he let me take them all.
Then it became my fucking specialty, but it’s been too fucking long since I’ve seen someone bleed out in front of me. And since that person—for some fucking reason—can’t be Essa, I need to find someone else.
With one last look around my place, I spin around and stalk back towards the house, my mind set.
* * *
“What the fuck do you want?”Leo grumbles from the other end of the line when he picks up.
“Didn’t think you would even answer,” I chuckle. “I knew you loved me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Vincent. I’m not in the mood for your shit today.”
“Fine,” I laugh again. “You got a job for me?” I ask, but my voice is hesitant. I haven’t taken a job in a while and I’m feeling giddy all over again.
“What the fuck?”
“What?” I ask as I shift on the stool I’m sitting on. I take a sip of my bourbon before setting the glass tumbler back on the counter.
“You haven’t taken one for a while. I assumed you were done,” he says.
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “I know.”
“Okay…” he drawls. “Then why are you asking now? Don’t you haveEssato take care of?” I can hear the sneer in his tone when he says her name and it makes me clench my teeth in irritation.
“Yes, b—”
“Okay, then the answer is no. You’ve already got your plate full, and I can’t deal with the fallout of a fuck up right now, Vincent. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Without another word, I hear a click on the line and then it goes dead.
The motherfucker hung up on me.
I pick up my glass before tossing back the rest and slamming it down on the counter.
I need more if I’m going to make it through the night without losing my fucking shit.
I push away from the counter and stand, albeit a little unsteady on my feet. I grip the counter to right myself before making my way up the stairs. I walk past all of the rooms—including the one with a sleeping Essa inside—and push open my office door.
