Page 8 of Grave Love
I push open Ren’s bedroom door, drawing forward slightly, then I creep toward that noise like a rat in the sewers. The carpet shifts from matted fibers to soft, long threads. My mind wanders: did Ren refuse to get her carpet replaced, or did the grandmother deny Ren of that comfort, not wanting to give her granddaughter any more than she already had?
I turn the doorknob, timing it with the next snore. Then, at the next grumble, I click open my switchblade.
The grandmother lies on her back, her cheeks fluttering with each breath. A silk nightgown covering her body. It’s funny; Ren sleeps naked, as if she wants to be seen. Donna Richmond is the opposite of her granddaughter.
My knees skim the mattress, the memory foam soundlessly curving to my form. The grandmother’s nostrils flare, deep in a comfortable sleep.
It would be so easy to kill her right now.
I put the knife right above her neck like I did with Ren the first time I stood over her lying on the conveyor belt.
The grandmother bears down on Ren like a finger squishing an ant. It’s not exactly like my past, but it’s familiar enough, and that hatred grows inside of me.
Killing the grandmothermightgive me the satisfaction I crave. The thought is enticing.
She looks like an older version of the others. Her yellow-blond hair has white roots, and I’m done with blonds. Besides, killing the grandmother will only force Ren to creep deeper inside of herself, burrowing until there’s nothing left. I can’t let that happen. Not yet. Not until I know exactly how to bring Ren’s desire out into the open. I have to kill Renfirst.
Ren is too interesting to waste. I’ll make my connection with her, then killher,and if I’m not satisfied, there’s always her grandmother.
The old bitch sighs, then flips over in bed. She groans, stirring awake. The laundry closet in the hallway calls to me. I open it and fold myself inside.
I can clean up a mess if I have to, but I’d rather take my time with Ren.
A few seconds later, the grandmother shuffles out of the bedroom, pausing right outside of the closet. Her silk nightgown flashes through the slats, bright like a lighthouse, warning others of what waits in the distance.
The grandmother sniffs in my direction. A grimace pulls at her lips, broken up by the slats in the door. Sensing my presence, just like her granddaughter.
Come closer, you fucking cunt.
She turns toward the bathroom, and I smile. No mess for me to clean up tonight. I can imagine the grandmother’s next note:Do the laundry. PLEASE. The whole house smells, Ren. THANK YOU.
She urinates, the stream loud through the closed door. Then she sits for a while. Minutes pass. Eventually, the bitch shuffles back to her bedroom. A loud snore rattles through the walls.
I return to Ren’s bedroom.
This time, Ren is lying on her stomach, her face toward the open window. Black strings of hair still cover her eyes. I tease my bulge through my pants. I’m already hard and greedy for her, but I don’t take it out. Not yet. I’m saving it for her warmth.
Instead, I take the knife and pull a lock of her hair. The knife cuts easily, slicing it off like scissors to paper. Knowing her, she won’t notice.
I stow the hair in my pocket.
I lift the pill bottle from the nightstand.Donna Richmond. Alprazolam. When taking this medication do not drink alcoholic beverages. Taking more than recommended may cause serious breathing problems and death.
Ren steals her grandmother’s pills. Uses them to sleep rather than suffer her nightly thoughts. I’ve known people like that. They can’t stand to confront themselves or the world around them. Their fists fly. Their legs spread. They find the people they hate the most, and they usethemto satisfy their own urges. Violence. Lust. Intoxication. Anything to forget the way they hate themselves.
Ren is like that too, though sherelishesin that self-hatred. She barely lives day-to-day, and still, she craves violence. She even inflicts it on her own body.
It would take one extra pill, and she could end her life.
I dump the contents into my palm, the white pills piling up like fungus sprouting across the top of damp soil. I shove them in my pocket. Ren won’t be ending her own life. She needs help from someone else.
If anyone kills her, it’s going to be me.
Chapter4
Ren
More nights.More days. More mindless shifts. Like always, I head home.
