Page 47 of Grave Love
A wooden box. Rectangular. The nails jagged. The final wooden plank rests to the side of the hole, exposing the bare insides. No cushions. No pillows. No keepsake gifts stowed away for a loved one to keep in the afterlife. I know exactly what this is.
My casket.
“Take off your clothes,” Blaze says, his voice ominous. “Underwear stays on.”
My hands shake, so I ball them into fists to stop myself from reacting. My knuckles whiten. Weakness envelopes me, and my knees buckle.
He wants me to get naked? Here? Why now?
Why can’t I do it?
Our eyes lock. Blaze bares his teeth again, warning me of the consequences of denying him. I quietly remove my leggings, my shirt, my bra, my hoodie. It’s humid, like the mouth of a monster. Still, the air on my skin exposes me and reminds me it’s still technically winter. All of that heat is fromme.
Vulnerability crushes my heart, trying to bring me to my knees. I try so hard to resist it.
Thisiswhat I wanted. To be buried alive. To have someone force me to embrace my death so that I don’t have to be afraid of it anymore.
Isn’t it?
“Get in,” Blaze orders.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Hesitantly, I lower myself to the ground. My calves skim across the dirt, colder than I expected, each clump hanging on to the moisture in the air. It’s not that deep; if I reach down with one leg, I’ll be standing inside of the grave.
I don’t move.
This is what I wanted. I know that. So why does this feel like a trap? Like I’m in the middle of some horrific joke?
Blaze pushes my back and I yelp and fall into the handmade casket. The wood creaks, and I spin around, looking for a way to escape.
There’s nowhere to go.
“What? Are you scared, love?” Blaze laughs. “You were the one who asked me to kill you.”
I never asked him for anything. “You offered,” I hiss. “No, youblackmailedme into this mess!”
“I didn’t threaten you with anything. We both had enough dirt on each other to keep silent.Youwere the one who came to my door and asked me to help you.”
My shoulders tighten, each beat of my pulse rapid. There’s some truth in that. I could’ve stayed away from him. I could’ve gone to that medical spa. I could’ve done this by myself.
“Now,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Get in the box.”
I kneel down, darkness closing in around me. The coarse wood scrapes my knees, a sharp pain shooting through me.
Blaze grabs the top of my head like a basketball and pushes me down, his gloved fingers so different from before that it scares me. The gloves are probably there to cover up the evidence, but ithurts.Like he doesn’t want to touch me when he kills me.
Tears stream down my face. I lie down quickly. He jumps in beside the casket, snatching the wooden plank and lowering it to the top of the coffin. I’m small. An object. Stuffed inside of a container.
I’m nothing.
My teeth chatter, shock coursing through me like a tidal wave. I reach up, slipping my fingers between the wood, Blaze’s force smashing them.
“Please,” I beg. “I don’t—”
Through the gaps between the wooden planks, I can see him grab tools from beside the grave. Angling down toward the coffin, his voice grows louder, echoing in that wood—
“The only way you’re getting out of that coffin is if you come or if you beg for your life,” he says. “Your choice.”
Tears burst through me like an attack. I shove against the plank, and his laughter swallows me whole. He leans his full body weight on top of the plank, forcing me down. I wail. Like a dying animal. Screaming for the last time.
