Page 72 of Grave Love
“Go on,”Blaze says. He tilts his head. “Take it.”
My stomach drops, my hands quivering at my sides, rattling like an umbrella trying to stay strong against the storm. But I’m fractured, being torn apart seam-by-seam.
Blaze narrows his eyes, a hint of contempt in his brow. I don’t know if it’s for me, or if there’s something else I’m missing here.
I’m scared.
“This isn’t what we agreed on,” I whisper. I shake my head.This can’t be it.“Please,” I say, louder this time, finding the strength inside of me to resist. “Don’t do this. You said you would kill me—”
“I never said I would pull the trigger,” he says, that smug tone capturing his words. “I only said that I would help you.”
He grabs the gun, forcing it into my palms. The weight pulls me down, my knees bending with it. My heart drums in my ears, my insides on fire as I try to process what’s going on.
He put a noose around my neck. Lathered me in another person’s blood. Choked me until I passed out. Why wouldn’t he force me to shoot myself?
He takes his phone and casts the device to a television in the corner of the room. A video plays, static whirring through the speakers as he increases the volume. A few seconds pass before I realize what it is.
I want to die. I want you to kill me,the recording says.
My suicide note.
“Blaze,” I say.
The tears pour out. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I come here?
Because I trust him.
Why do I trust him?
I shove the gun back toward him. “I don’t want this.”
“What do you want then?” he asks as he angles his chin toward me. He steps forward; I step back. We’re two pieces in a puzzle, fitting into place, but this doesn’tfeelright. My back lines up against the wall, my hand clutching the gun to my side. Blaze cages me in, leaning on the wall, pinning me in place.
“Tell me, little corpse. You were always afraid to do it, but fuck,” he says, rolling his head back. He snakes his hand into my pants, curving between my thighs, his fingers rough, pushing inside of my wet slit. “You want it, don’t you? You want to die for me. Such a slut. Greedy until the fucking end.”
The video recording is loud and on an endless loop.
I’m a burden,my voice echoes.I’m useless—
He yanks me back, and I scream. He rips my clothes off. Swipes the weapons and restraints off of the bed. Metal crashes to the floor. And I’m naked. Vulnerable. Exposed. He removes his cock, the bulging member swollen with blood, the purple crown causing my throat to swell.
He shoves me over the bed, and the gun falls to the mattress. I stare at it, the sobs crowding my throat as he licks my ass, his fat tongue darting in my hole, my arousal dripping between my thighs.
Abruptly, he shifts our bodies, changing us around and lifting me until I’m straddling his lap. We sit on the edge of the bed, me on top. He lowers my hips onto his cock, impaling my ass like a piece of meat on a rack. His cock cuts through me. Shreds me in two. My throat burns.
“Ithurts,” I beg.
“It’s supposed to,” he says, his voice elegant and menacing, every inch of me shivering with fear. Blood pumps in my ears, every nerve ending in my body like a million little fingers clawing for a way out. Frantic for it. My ass adjusts, expanding to his width, and his fingers trace my neck, tickling me, teasing me with desire. My nervous system becomes magnetic, every point of contact amplified, his penetration inside of me melting me down, molding me into what he wants. What I want, too. And it feels good. Better than last time. Because I’m scared, and I hate it, and I want him all the same.
“You’re going to come for me before you die,” he says in a low voice.
A tear rolls down my cheek, a shiver bursting through me. “Blaze, I—”
He reaches over. Finds the gun. His palm fits over my hand, and he uses my grip to hold the gun in place against my temple. My head pulses; each heartbeat races faster.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “When I say ‘one,’ you’re going to shoot yourself.”
“W-what?” I stutter. “Blaze, please! I—”
