Page 54 of My Girl
I stiffen, then push myself to a standing position too. My body is covered in filth.
“How am I going to get back to my car?” I ask.
“You’ll figure something out.”
Irritation floods me; he doesn’t care about things like that, but he’s also got a mask to hide himself. He knows it too.
Then a sense of strength wells up inside of me. I’m not scared of getting caught. If I can survive this—live through getting off to murder, then fucking the murderer—then I can get back to my car. I don’t need a mask like Crave. My mask is my own face.
Still, I came here for a reason. I need his help.
“Get the DNA samples for me,” I say. “I’ve already tried talking to the police. I even asked Ned to help me.” I lift my shoulders. “They won’t take me seriously. Maybe you can get them to tell you something they’d never tell me.” A hint of anger flushes my skin. “You’re a man. They’ll listen to you more than me.”
“You trust the police?” Crave asks.
I furrow my brows. “They’re always hiding something.”
“I’m hiding something too.”
I tilt my head. I’ve only seen Crave’s lips and cock. I don’t know what he looks like, or if “Crave” is his real name. And yet, I trust him. There’s nothing hiding in his words. No lies. No hidden truths. He’s a bloodthirsty killer who—for some reason—hasn’t killed me yet.
And I hate to admit it, but after tonight—after he forced me to watch what happened to that stranger from the hookup app—I trust him even more. It’s like he made me look into a mirror to see what he already knew was inside of me: the desire for violence, for the passion he dedicates to me, for the fact that he killed a man for me.
Maybe I like that about him.
“You’ll figure something out,” I say, repeating his words back to him. I pull out my phone to remind him of the footage, and that sends another rush through me. It’s a dangerous and delicate balance with him. I can still give the footage to the police. At the same time, all it would take is those bolt cutters to my neck, and Crave could have that blackmailing footage in his possession.
“Clean this up,” I say. “Penny and I are supposed to decorate tomorrow.”
“Or what?” he asks. “Are you afraid she’ll find out the truth about you?”
I wave him away dismissively, then I walk up the stairs, pretending as if I have the final word. He’s right, though. It’s not about cleaning up a murder scene, or the fact that I let more crime happen in Penny’s hometown, or the fact that I’m using her for a fake podcast.
Penny doesn’t know—no one does, besides Crave and Ned—that Michael Hall had a child.Me.
At the top of the stairs, I search the kitchen as I try to remember what supplies I stashed here. I dig a trash bag out from under the kitchen sink, ripping a hole in the bottom so that I can poke my head through. I giggle at myself. I’m a literal trash bag now, and I can hear Crave’s words in my brain:What a little trash whore.
As I walk to the car, I don’t think of the repercussions. My head is in the clouds, and right now, I know Crave will help me. After what we did tonight, he knows he has to. I have footage that will put him in jail.
I’m innocent, though. Sure, I got off on it, and I can admit that Ilikedmy surprise. Especially how it proved that Crave is just as entwined with me as I am with him.
But I’ll tell the police it was for my survival. I haven’t hurt anyone.
Crave did it all for me.
Chapter17
Crave
As I walkthrough those doors to the Pahrump Police Department the next morning, comfort washes over me. Wearing the same jumper as their regular maintenance worker, the police don’t notice me.
From the outside, it must look like I’m kissing the ground Rae walks on. It’s more complicated than that, and it’s part of the plan.
“Where’s Bill?” the secretary asks. Bill must be the regular maintenance worker. I keep my head lowered.
“Sick. Diarrhea,” I mumble. “Came to fix the vents. Shit’s leaking in the back.”
“The back?”
