Page 15 of Strangled
Sweat rolls down the part of my face that’s not as heavily scarred. It burns my eyes as it trickles past, but I merely blink it away, too lost in my newfound method.
When I finally straighten from my bent over position, the only area left unsheathed is his face. I can see him struggling to breathe already, his breath coming in short, choppy pants from the constriction against his diaphragm. His eyes are open, staring up at me unseeingly as he blinks slowly, lethargically.
I bend over, putting my face directly above his—exactly like I did to Mom when I watched as death consumed her. “It’s time you become one within,” I tell him, a faint smile on my lips as I press the plastic against his mouth.
Grabbing his nape, I lift his head and wind it around. His eyes widen, filling with tears before they disappear behind the obscured material. When I reach the top of his head, I grip both sides and shred it in half, tucking the end piece into the folds.
I hover, pressing as tightly against him as I can, absorbing the sensation of his body trembling in fear.
“Fuck,” I murmur in blissful rapture as my dick hardens. The swarm of sensations rushing through me is exhilarating. I don’t know which way is down as I press my face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply, relishing in the strong odor of fresh plastic mixed with innate fear.
The sweat lining his body makes the plastic creak with every attempted thrash. With the wrap cinched too tight, coupled with my weight on top of him, it doesn’t take long for the movement to slow to nothing.
Just me, breathing in his demise as I smother him effortlessly.
This must be what my friends feel when I watch them spin their silk around their prey.
Each filament they create specifically for the task at hand—to suffocate, to paralyze, to kill and consume.
I comprehend now—fully and truly. It’s the most desirable compulsion.
I lie on my newest victim for an inconsiderable amount of time, simply reveling in the presence of his death. It’s not until the humans in my house make themselves known once again with a disturbingly loud crash, making the hairs on my arms stand on end, that I snap out of my induced trance, reminding me that this isn’t the end.
There’s so much more to do.
SEVEN
“What did I do?” I whisper to myself, running my hands back and forth over my head as I pace right outside the backdoor. The party is a backdrop to my chaotic ruminations.
“What thefuckdid I do?” My mind is racing, the weed and booze doing nothing to numb the rapid decline I’m taking. I finish the joint in my hand and flick the roach into the yard, watching as it disappears almost instantly into the too-long, swaying grass.
The cool October breeze does nothing to cool my flushed skin. The glow from my orgasm sits like a sheen along my skin, despite the unease I’m feeling now.
That would’ve been one of the best hook ups of my life if it didn’t feel so fuckingoff.I sink to my ass on the steps of the wooden, wrap-around porch and drop my head into my hands for all of two seconds before I’m on my feet, pacing again.
Even though my body is lagging from the drugs pulsing through my bloodstream, I can’t be still; I can’t enjoy the buzz I so desperately need to.
There’s something pressing right at the forefront of my mind, niggling and festering.
When I first moved into this house—hell, even up to today—I was feeling okay with it. The place felt comforting, despite its ample flaws, but even I can’t scrounge up an explanation for the unusual shit happening.
Fuck. Maybe Cadence was fucking right, and this place is haunted after all—but even if it fucking is, I will never admit that to them. My apprehension could have everything to do with it being Halloween. People act extra fucking freaky on this day, but either way, something feels askew—somethingwiththis house.
I swipe my cup off the railing, the plastic crinkling under my tight grip as I down the bitter liquid inside. My eyes flicker up to the dull, yellow moon sitting low in the sky. The light shines bright enough to illuminate the darkness in parts, but as my gaze lands on the thick patch of gnarled trees several dozen yards away, enveloped by shadows, untouched by any light, I shiver.
The once comfortable vibes I was feeling about this house morph into apprehension-filled questions—questions I know are unanswerable, but ones I want answers to, regardless.
* * *
The party is thunderous. So much so, I’m sure every animal in the surrounding area has dispersed.
The glass rattles in the windowsills as I make my way through the kitchen and into the center of the fucking crowd. People have congregated throughout the rest of the house, filling the space with ease. I can’t hear shit other than the music as it becomes louder with every step. The bass vibrates, shouts and screams masking whoever is actually singing the song.
Limbs flail above my head as I duck and weave my way through. By the time I reach Iris, I’m sweating and out of breath.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” Iris yells next to me, taking a step back from her equipment. Her face glows in the orange lights. A fog machine must still be going because another wave rolls throughout the room, increasing the atmospheric ambiance of a good time.
I open my mouth to tell her what happened, but my words die on my lips. What the fuck would I even say? That I hooked up with someone I was dancing with, and I’m pretty sure someone,somehow,took his place?
