Page 96 of Grave Love
That day—the same day I help her escape possible termination from her job at the funeral home—is the day that I take out my frustrations on my house. I don’t understand the anger, but my knuckles pound into the walls until they’re caked with blood. My temples pound endlessly. I can’t get rid of it.
That night, once Ren is asleep in her bed, I drive to Blountstown. I wait outside of the gas station, the one right next to the pizza shop. It used to make me sick being here, memories surfacing of my mother leaving me in the closet, forcing me to take whatever those men wanted. Now, I rub my dick through my pants, watching the store clerk clock out and walk to her car. Forcingmyselfto see the truth in this.
I need to get Ren out of my system. Once I do that, everything will fall into place. I’ll move on.
After that, Ren won’t mean shit to me.
The clerk jerks around, alarmed by my footsteps. I knock her in the head with a crowbar. Bind her in rope. Throw her in the trunk of my car. My mother’s house comes into view, surrounded by towering trees, and I leave the bitch in the trunk for a minute, consumed by my own thoughts.
I stand over the open grave. While the random college girl is buried in the woods like my second and third, this grave—this hole I dug near my mother’s grave, the cavern I built forRen—is open, my brother decaying inside of it. Burying my brother so close to my mother is a bad idea, but it seemed right at the time. Like they belong together. A mass grave full of people who wronged me.
People who wrongedhertoo.
I curse under my breath, infuriated with myself. I’m done with this shit. This pity. This self-indulgent guilt. Sulking won’t bring Ren back, neither will stalking her. Shemadeher choice, and no matter how tightly I bind Ren in my chains, I’ll never be able to control her like I want. I don’t have that kind of power, and even if I did, it wouldn’t beher.
And maybe that’s for the best.
The clerk’s garbled screams rattle from inside of the trunk. Finally, I retrieve her. Drag her by the hair to the open grave. The foul stench of decay and turned earth permeates the air, and the clerk’s sweat—ripe with the scent of fear—trickles over it, overpowering everything else. I toss her in the grave, and she screams as her eyes widen, taking in the dead body. I look at the clerk, but I see Ren. I see the fear in Ren’s eyes when she saw me kill my brother. How she forced me to see myself. How I couldn’t be what she wanted.
The stranger twists, her hair mixing with the dirt, and for the first time, I realize the clerk is blond. I didn’t plan for that; I simply found myself outside of that pizza shop.
Life is life. Death is death. Killing a random blond woman won’t make a difference.
Ren makes a difference,my mind argues.She’s changed you.
I pull out my dick, ignoring those words, focusing on the primal display of survival in front of me. Even though the woman is bound in so much rope that she can barely move, she still inches across the dirt, trying to crawl out of the grave. As if she’ll escape somehow. As if she’ll actually live.
Itshouldbe intoxicating, this pitiful act of survival. But my dick stays soft.
I bite my tongue, tasting copper. Using my sadism onmyself.Anything to stir that need inside of me. I squeeze my balls through my pants and urge myself to get hard, and though my body reacts, my dick doesn’t get full enough. Not enough to fuck this stranger.
It’s the lack of blood,I tell myself.Once I see her bleeding, I’ll get hard. I always do. Even with Ren’s ex.
The stranger whimpers, gurgling into the rope. I open my switchblade, my mind wandering to the first time I saw Ren laid out on the conveyor belt. Spread out before me. How I held the knife inches from her neck.
The images consume me. Ren covered in dirt. A bag over her head. Lying still, pretending to be a corpse so that I didn’t notice her. The scent of her fear.
Fear, because there was hope for once. Longing for something more.
Longing that I destroyed.
The clerk wails. Irritation and disgust floods me.
My brother was right. Rendeservesa choice. She’s always had that inner-strength to choose her future, and now, she’s finally embraced it. It’s why I’m attracted to her. Why I envy her.
It’s why I love her.
Fucking this woman isn’t going to bring Ren back, neither will killing her. None of us are any better than insects in the ground, and one day, when we’re worm food, at least we’ll have a purpose.
I’d rather be worm food with Ren than pretend like she doesn’t matter.
She matters to me.
I slit the woman’s throat. The blood rushes over my fingers, the warmth soothing me. Not because of the violence, but because of the choice ahead of me.
I know what I need to do now.
I don’t care what happens anymore. I don’t care about anything. I don’t care if I live or die. IwantRen, and I can’t make her choose anything. I know that now.
