Page 68 of Grave Love
“Stay safe,” he says. “You know how people get out here.”
I bow my head, then head to my car. The funny thing is that Idostay safe. I look out for myself. That’s how it’s always been, and how it willalwaysbe. There’s no use in getting attached when you knownothingis real. Not family. Not love. Not even a chaotic cunt who willingly agrees to be your next victim. Not a woman who you made beg for her life.
Ren wasn’t my fourth, nor will she be my fifth.
But this bitch? Whoever she is—shewill be my fifth.
Then I’ll focus on making Ren my sixth.
I carry the drunk woman inside of my house. Gag her with a cloth. Then I dig out the syringe full of pure adrenaline. I stab it into her arm.
“Thanks so much for the adrenaline, big bro,” I say sarcastically as I push the plunger down. “Shereallyneeds it.”
The bitch gasps, wheezing around the cloth, and I grab her by the neck, bringing her to her toes. She trembles, fear boiling in her eyes. Her pupils are dilated.
She’s tanner than what I was looking for but only slightly, so I give it a pass. The black hair is right though. They even have similar body shapes: average in every way. With my free hand, I squeeze my dick through my pants, readying myself to fuck this stranger.
But I’m soft. I strain my neck, irritation bubbling inside of me as she twitches in my grip. I’ve never had to get myself hard before killing. I don’t have time to question it now. I play with my dick. Force it out of me.Needing it.Once this bitch is screaming, I’ll behard,and raping her will be worth the effort. I’ll have my clarity back. Everything will make sense.
I choke the nameless cunt, conjuring up that future image of Ren’s final breath.
Instead, my mind races to the past.
Stop fighting,my mother scolded as she grabbed my neck.If you just listened to me, then we wouldn’t have to do it like this. You’re doing this to yourself.
The memory of her fingers curl around my neck, and I strangle the stranger, matching the strength of my memory. My mother choked me until I stopped fighting. Until I took it like a good child should. Letting those men use me. Letting them fuck my ass and stab my side until they were finished.
Then another memory flashes forth: the scent of my resistance in the air; the rhythmic thrusting of my mother’s boyfriend; the understanding that cunt or ass, woman or boy, it was all the same to him. My fists loosen around the stranger’s neck, not because I care about her life, but because of that memory. That memory was the moment when I decided I had a choice: I could end my own suffering, or I could kill my mother.
And right now, I have the choice to kill this stranger.
Or I can kill Ren instead.
Air bursts through the woman’s mouth, whistling against the gag now that she’s finally able to breathe. I push down those visions of the past, and I try—try as hard as I can—to see Ren there. To find pleasure in this stranger’s struggle. To see the truth emerge from her death. But none of this matters. Especially not this stranger’s cunt.
She twitches in my arms like a worm. I try to laugh. To find amusement in it all. But this bitch is the same. Just like my second and my third. I can fuck her, but it won’t give me what I want.
Besides, my dick is limp.
I can kill her. Whether or not she goes back to college doesn’t matter to me. Her life? Her death? She’s an animal, like we are all, and we all die.
But why torture her if I don’t get anything out of it?
Why waste my time?
Her eyes bulge, frantically searching for a way out. I stare into those brown irises. Scrutinizing them. They’re almost the color of honey.
They’re too light.
She’s wrong, isn’t she? That’s why this isn’t working. She’s all fuckingwrong.
This bitch will never replace Ren.
Fucking her isn’t going to change that.
A sob rakes through the stranger’s body, and the frustration finally splits through the surface of my composure.
I take the gun from my holster and thrust it against her temple. The hammer clicks into place, the silencer numbing the bullet. The body falls limp, dropping onto my bed.
