Page 17 of My Girl
I usethe bolt cutters on the padlock. It’s annoying, but at least they’re doing something.
You should have destroyed it when you still had the chance,my mother’s voice says.Stupid, stupid boy.
“And where would that leave my legacy?” I ask.
I toss the bolt cutters into the dirt, then whip open the gate. My boots pound into the floor with the same determination as an adopted son ready to shake some goddamn sense into his legal mother. I scan the first floor of the Galloway House through the mesh screens of my mask.
Gray and brown shadows cover the kitchen. My mother’s voice rings in my mind again.
I told you to stay down there,she says.
I tried to leave. Tried to stay far away from this place. Tried to move on with my life. But this desert town always haunts me, begging me to stay.
And now, it’s called Rae here too.
After unlocking the basement door, I flip a switch. A dim light illuminates in the back corner like the embers of a dying fire. A few objects come into view: a stool, a table, a ladder, and a shower stall in the corner. A red, sticky stain marks the floor. I’m lucky that no one goes down here.
The door upstairs creaks open. Right on time.
Ballet flats shuffle against the stairs. I stand tall, my boots giving me extra height, and with my shadow, I must look too tall to be real. I grin behind the mask, knowing that this kind of thing gets to a woman like Rae. She likes knowing I can squash her in a second, but no, I’d rather fuck her instead.
It’s not about sex for me, though. It’s about using her. Her body. Her mind. Her fucking soul.
Rae stops on the bottom step. Wavy red hair straddles her shoulders, her black eyeliner thicker than usual, a mask of her own that says,Don’t fuck with me.
She’s already fucking with you,my mother—that stupid inner voice—says. I ignore it.
Rae raises a small handgun. Aims it at me. Her shoulders are tight. Her arms quiver under the weight, not used to a real weapon. She thinks she’s going to shoot me.
“The little girl got herself a gun?” I ask.
“Don’t move,” she warns in a voice that’s impressively confident. A gun always does that to a person. She takes another step forward and joins me on the ground floor, her body filling with bravery. “I just want to talk.”
I undo the metal zipper over my mouth, exposing my lips. She focuses for a second too long on my mouth, then shifts back up at my mesh eyes. The dirty little bitch.
She aims the gun at my chest, then at my stomach.
“You killed those people the other night,” she says. Her chin curls up, her brown eyes locked on mine. “Why kill them here?”
“Why not?” I say.
Her eyes inspect every inch of me. My body is covered in leather, a second layer of animal skin. I imagine her in leather too, a bondage mask clinging to her face.
Rae hasn’t killed anyone, but there’s a lack of remorse in the things she does. The way shetakes.The way she doesn’t see humanity in others. The way she only sees herself.
That’s what this is. She sees an opportunity in me, just like I see one in her.
I sniff deeply, sucking in her natural scent: pineapple and vinegar. A sweetness in the tang. The floral stench of jasmine perfume tries to cover up her natural funk, but when you’re aroused, you can’t hide something that sour under a flower’s perfume.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she says.
Smart girl. I can give her an answer.
“No one cares about this place,” I say. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Nothing is ever that simple.”
My lips twist. I hold back my laughter. She fidgets uncomfortably, the gun’s aim sinking, then she raises it up again, the silence eating away at her.
