Page 93 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

His hands are cruel, and he cares of nothing but himself, and I won’t let this happen.

Not yet.

“I don’t want to die, and you can’t kill me,” I tell him, pushing him away with my feet and moving away from him.

He becomes angry when he reaches for me. He calls me a bitch, a tease, and a liar—all of the mean things that Daddy would say to Momma before he would start to beat her like he was always so fond of doing.

Duran grabs me by my hair as I reach for the knife by Linda’s body and smacks me as hard as he can. I let out a tired laugh as the taste of iron fills my mouth, but he doesn’t know that the girl that he’s treating like nothing more than a momentary possession right now, has more fight than any other grown woman he’s mistreated before.

Consensual or not—I’ve changed my mind and it’s really his own fault for being no different than Daddy when I needed him to be something much more than just a monster.

I let out a pained grunt as he slaps me again, pushing me onto my back and flicking my robe open with his wrist.

“You apparently need to learn some manners,” he growls as he prepares to fuck me again. I want him to, more than I want to get out of here alive, but I won’t let him have me again. He doesn’t deserve the sensations that using my body provides for him.

“Open your fucking legs,” he grunts as he attempts to use his knees to pry them apart, and that’s when I raise my hand.

It’s when I bring it down as swiftly as I can and with all the strength left inside of me that I’ve been able to muster.

It’s when his eyes widen as a hand moves quickly to the side of his neck, a river of blood flowing freely onto my almost naked body.

It’s when …

I sighas I get up from my chair and walk back into my home to refill my cup. It’s such a beautiful day outside, and while I don’t really care for sunlight, I need a little more time to decide what to do.

I open the refrigerator and remove the carton, filling my glass to the brim before putting it away and closing the door.

Before I go back outside, I walk into my small living room and look at Duran. He’s lying on my couch, a pale yellow, his body showing early signs of putrefying. I smile.

He was able to walk home with me the night I stabbed him, and I promised to get him help once we got back.

I lied.

Just like he did with the promise he showed me each night that I stood outside his window, hoping for a beautiful death.

The night before my mother left me, she sang me a little song, and it’s stuck with me ever since.

“If a boy ever wants to hurt you, you remember this,” she had said before she sang to me, “Georgie Porgy, pudding and pie, kiss the boys then make them die.”

And that’s just what I did because I know it’s what my mother would have wanted.

The Devil’s Melancholy

BLURB

The strangest obsessions start with an idea.

One that’s festered for longer than it should have.

The kind that sat quietly and grew inside of me waiting for this very moment.

I never realized how badly I had wanted this to happen until she walked through the door of my establishment.

The woman that used to torment me daily after school, and even got me locked up for a summer.

And it seems she’s brought the perfect piece to use against her.

To finally glean the obsessive revenge of the teenage boy that never had the opportunity to do so.

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