Page 43 of Dead Love
“You had never had real pain,” he said with venom in his voice. He jerked my hand, making me touch myself. “You’ve never had anything negative in your perfect life.”
I tried to read what was there. Like he was longing for that. Like he saw what he wanted in me. Because Vincent wanted to make me squirm. Because he knew he could make me feel like he did. And that burned inside of me.
“You’re jealous,” I whispered.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You’re numb to the world. I’m just trying to fix that.”
We stared at each other for a moment, both of us daring the other to speak. Then Vincent let go of me and went back to shoveling. Stunned, I stayed there for a while, then fixed my shirt, zipped up my hoodie, and lifted my nose, but I didn’t feel proud. My throat ached, but I stayed still, not understanding what we had just done.
But that was the thing—this was about… something else. Something I didn’t understand. A place where Vincent refused to let me be.
I leaned on the wall of the grave. I didn’t understand him. I had a feeling few people did.
When I attempted to get out of the hole, Vincent grabbed my hips, lifting me out. A surge of heat roamed through me. He could choke me nearly to death, and a few minutes later, help me out of a grave? As soon as I sat down, Bernie brought me a slimy red ball, but I stroked the top of his head and whispered in his ear, “Not tonight, buddy,” then gave him a kiss. He tilted his head, then looked at his brother and sister. The three of them wandered through the trees lining the edge of the property. An idea dawned on me.
“Have you ever thought about tree burials?” I asked.
He furrowed his brows. “Tree burials?”
“You combine the ashes with seeds with soil and other nutrients. Then a tree grows from it.”
“That sounds like some hippie garbage.”
I gave a soft laugh. Maybe it was, but I liked it. “My mother had a customer who brought in a pamphlet once. She was going to the capital to have her husband buried like that since we didn’t have that service here in Punica.” Vincent slowed for a second, and I knew he had understood my subtext: sincehedidn’t offer tree burials.
He resumed his steady pace. “Not interested.”
“Why not?” He ignored me, focusing on shoveling. I continued: “Maybe, something like a tree, something likelife,could actually show you a different side of grief. One you haven’t seen much of.” Another clump of dirt landed on top of the pile. “One of hope.”
He exhaled deeply. “Would a tree make you feel better about Nyla?”
“I think she would have liked becoming a tree. And I would have enjoyed visiting her.”
“And what if she died? As a tree?” He laughed to himself, mocking me. “Again?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Sometimes it’s not up to you.”
Speckles of dirt covered his cheeks and forehead, sweat beading on his brow, mixing it into a rich brown.
“Look into it,” I said. “You might be surprised.”
He grunted, still absorbed in his task, but his shoulders relaxed. Maybe he wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. I smoothed the grass beside me, picking a few blades to braid, and when he was done, he motioned to the funeral home.
Inside, he led me to a small room with a standard food refrigerator, a microwave, and a small cabinet. He wiped his face with a wet cloth, a streak of clear skin illuminated by the fluorescent lights. But then he rubbed his brow and got some dirt in his eye. He cursed to himself, then, holding one eye closed, pointed at me. My fingers twitched in my lap.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
As soon as the funeral home’s bathroom door closed behind him, I raced to the crematory room. I dialed my mother’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. My hands shook, knowing that this was my only chance. I dialed the police department, then asked to speak to Sheriff Mike, and when he wasn’t available, I asked for Officer Andrew.
“This is Officer Andrew,” he said.
“Andrew,” I whispered.
“Miss Kora? Is that you?” he asked, his voice raised. “Where are you, darling?”
“I’m at Quiet Meadows.” I clutched the phone to my ear. “Vincent is holding me prisoner. He almost tried to kill me. I need you to get me out of here—”
