Page 40 of Antihero
He screams, tugging away and out of my reach. He braces himself on the doorframe, and I pull myself unsteadily to my feet, leaning on the wall for support. I can taste blood, my own, my temple throbbing from where he struck me. Then he’s on me again. His dry, rasping hand clamps on my throat, pain erupting from the pressure in my head as he pins me to the log wall. He points the keys at my eye and snarls, “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
That fact I’m no closer to getting away from him, that I may have just made this worse for myself, doesn’t escape me. I spit blood into his face. That snarl again. I brace, waiting for the next strike.
Somewhere behind him, back in the shadows of the trees, a twig snaps. Loudly.
With a jolt, Harry casts a look over his shoulder. Of course, he wouldn’t want someone to see him, the respected ex-surgeon, beating up a woman. Something rustles. “Who’s there?” he demands.
I manage a gargled chuckle. “Maybe it’s the Wraith.”
His small eyes come back to me. “Keep your mouth shut, slut.” Of course, I’m seeing it now. To Harry, every woman is a slut. We all deserve whatever he dishes out. Lobotomy, beatings, rape. We all have earned it in his eyes.
Then the growl. Harry lets me go as he spins around, facing the unknown. He steps towards the bushes like a man trying to shoo off a dog. “Get!” he hisses, thinking it’s some kind of animal. But that growl, it wasn’t an animal.
My voice is strained, but I speak anyway, even though each word stings my throat. “You don’t remember me. Do you remember any of us?”
Harry faces me, staring me down like I’ve grown horns. “I told you to shut the—”
I pull myself off the wall. “Youtook their minds. They weren’t sick, and you destroyed them.You were our devil.”
A heavy line appears between his brows, like he’s trying to look closer at me. “You’re mad. You’re not from there… none of them are here anymore! They’re all gone!”
“Oh, we’re here. And we’re haunting you.” My words come out dry, strained through my damaged throat.
I see something like fear as it flashes in his eyes, among the confusion. Then the shape detaches from the shadows, stepping up behind Harry. Harry stiffens, turning around slowly, like he knows fate is waiting behind him. Tristan is fast, his foot snapping up and against the side of Harry's knee. The pop is followed immediately by Harry's scream as he drops and keeps screaming, clutching at his thigh.
Panting, I press back against the wall, feeling outside my body as I watch Harry look up at Tristan, at his face, and see his death written there. But he still tries, gargling, "Please…" Before he even gets the whole word out, Tristan's hands clamp onto his head… and twist. The crack reverberates through my own bones, and I come back to myself. Harry’s body flops to the ground, limp.
Dead.
Tristan stands over the body, letting his hands fall to his sides. My breath is stuck in my chest as he looks up, and relief floods me, releasing me. I slump, knees weak.
But he's there, catching me, propping me back against the wall. “You’re…”
Swaying but straight, I steady myself. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just need a moment.”
Tristan stares at me, but steps back, perhaps reading my internal plea to him; not to ask, not to hold me. I feel it in the way my fingers tremble. I’m too close to breaking. If I shatter now, I won’t be able to bring myself back together in time to fix this.
“Your neighbour?” he asks, glancing away, worried James is about to stumble out of the trees and see this.
“Out on his boat…” my voice croaks. “Night fishing.”
He stares at me a moment, then nods once. Stepping away, he crouches down to pick up the body, slinging it over his shoulder. I follow, breathing out in a long, deliberate exhale.
When we reach the shiny blue car, back on the edge of Kidswal at the other end of the trail, I pop the trunk and Tristan dumps Harry’s corpse in there, slamming it shut. When he turns to me, focussing on the bruise lit up by the single streetlight on this edge of town, I turn away. “Come on. Before he starts to stink,” I say.
I fall into the passenger seat, running my hands back through my tangled hair. My head feels like fireworks are exploding inside my skull. I avoid any mirror, not ready to see whatever bruise is forming on my cheek. Tristan slides into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed, shutting us off from the outside chill. “Are you alright?” he asks now, sensing perhaps that the brief walk, and the fading adrenaline, has grounded me enough to bear it.
I shake my head, feeling tears prick behind my eyes. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Like he knows I’m lying, Tristan’s gaze lingers on me before he starts the car. “It’s going to be a long walk back,” he tells me.
“Good,” is all I say. Like I could sleep now, anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to the side of the road near where I murdered the lech from the nightclub, and it doesn’t take long to get Harry’s body, already going stiff, into the driver’s seat. Once everything is ready, Harry’s foot weighed on the accelerator, I slam the stick into gear and get out of the car.
I stand in the middle of the black snake of the road, and watch the car slide away, picking up speed as the tyres leave the road, hitting gravel, then grass, careening for the jagged cliff edge.
Tristan stands beside me, and when the headlights shine out into nothing, and the rear lights wobble then face the sky, I take a long breath. The distant sound of crumpling metal mingles with the crashing waves, until only the waves remain.
