Page 76 of Her Wicked Knights
I don't know how he did what he did, but more importantly, I don't know why he did what he did. To make a point? If so, I'm not sure who it was meant for.
He effectively dismembered her, which was entirely unnecessary. But as we draw up to the casket and I get a look at her, it seems she's been pieced back together. It's so eerie that I don't look at her face, at first, too busy looking for the needle marks as my mind conjures images of the patchwork doll from Halloween movies I used to watch as a kid.
But when Colton stifles his laugh, it draws me out of my thoughts enough to get a look at what he finds so funny.
I wouldn't say it's funny, so much as fucking weird.
Audrey's red hair has been dyed over with a deep, rich chocolate color that's so similar to Marley's that I want to reach out and touch it, just to make sure it's not her.
Beyond the hair, though, her face doesn't look like her. She's too soft, the makeup trying too hard to look sweet, when Audrey was anything but. She was manipulative, a seductress who used her looks and tits to get what she wanted from weak-willed men. She shouldn't be laid to rest in makeup that looks like she was going for the girl next door.
And then, as if everything else wasn't bad enough, I spot the dress.
That fucking dress.
I remember holding a fistful of it as I clung to Marley at her parents' funeral, trying not to cry because I wanted to be strong for her. I remember Colton saying how he wanted to bend her over her father's coffin, how fucked up he knew that was. It's Marley's dress, and it doesn't fit Audrey in more ways than one. It's awkward on her, drearier and less demure.
"Did you choose that?" I ask Colton coldly, quietly enough that we won't be overheard.
As her boyfriend, I know he's under scrutiny right now. Everyone is watching him, but thankfully, they're also hanging back to give him space to grieve, so nobody hears the question I ask him, or the answer he gives.
"Why the fuck would I have chosen her dress?"
He's been helping Nan, who's too old and feeble to do much by herself. In fact, before the funeral, he picked up some stuff that she said she couldn't bear to have lying around anymore. I don't bother explaining my logic to him, though, because I can't stand here any longer and look at her. I need to see Marley, to get some fresh air, to stop imagining Audrey being pulled apart at the joints as Whit let her body fall from the ceiling.
Colton and Tripp apparently feel the same, because they turn when I do, and we step outside together, exiting into the afternoon light as the line behind us proceeds to the coffin.
But when the doors shut behind us and I feel like I can finally take a fucking breath, I still can't, because Marley's nowhere to be seen.
I understand that she was overwhelmed; it's a lot, and after seeing her the same way we did, Marley is probably struggling too. It makes sense that she couldn't stand there any longer, that she needed to get out of there. But we drove her, so where is she?
We split up without saying a word to each other, Colton going toward the parking lot, Tripp veering to the right of the building, and me going to the left. I've only taken a few steps when I lookup from my feet and see her limp body pressed against the wall, Jake's body holding her up with his hands around her neck.
I don't think, don't hesitate. I just run at them, yelling for him to let her go. But I don't think Jake hears me, because he doesn't drop his hands or try to run. He just tightens his grip, squeezes her throat harder, and Marley's eyes flutter.
She falls to the ground when I pry him off of her, shoving him out of the way without even delivering a single blow because she's all that matters right now. I sink to my knees in the mulch beside her.
"Marley?" I ask, rubbing her cheek, tapping, trying to get her to open her eyes.
I know she's breathing, still, despite Jake's fucking handprints on her neck, the red blazing against the creamy color of her skin. I'm going to fucking kill him.
There's a scuffle behind me as Tripp and Colton come running, but I don't focus on the yelling, the blows I hear as fists land over bone. I focus on her, swiping hair from her face, trying to rouse her gently.
I'm about to start CPR, because I don't know what else to do, when her lashes begin to flutter and a moan slips out of her parted lips.
Relief surges through me as her eyes open to that enchanting brown iris. She stares up without seeing me, and I'm not sure she hears me saying her name.
"You okay, Angel?" I think it's the third time I ask before her eyes move to mine and realization sets in.
She braces her hand on the dirt flowerbed Jake had her standing in before she went down and tries to sit up. "Take it easy." I warn, just as Colton reaches around me to help pull her to her feet. Tripp offers me his hand, and I take it without letting myself analyze what it means, standing now, too.
When I turn, she's leaning against Colton, still looking unsteady as her eyes appraise his swelling eye. Looks like Jake got in a punch before he scrambled away, but based on the sounds I heard, Jake must look a hell of a lot worse than this.
"Oh my God." Marley says, reaching out toward Colton's face before pausing. "Are you okay?"
I could laugh, if I wasn't so fucking pissed about what I just witnessed.
If we'd lingered any longer inside the church, what would have happened? Would Jake have continued choking her until she took her last breath? Would we be gathering here again in a few days with her in the coffin next?
