Page 30 of Deeper

Callen

Cortland Evans.

Five foot ten and soon-to-be six feet under.

Rylan Pierce.

Five foot two and under my skin.

Cortland didn’t go running today. In fact, he hasn’t left the house at all, not even to go out with his friends and bring home another nameless girl. He picked an unfortunate time to stay home alone because I’m extremely volatile in my current state, and I need someone to work it out on.

The lock on Cortland’s back door easily jimmies open under my hands, and I creep through his home.

I have been in a foul mood all day, my thoughts constantly turning back to just how badly I failed in that room with Rylan. My intent was to break her, but she barely even bent under my hands.

I stand over his sleeping form, and my mind races back and forth from red to pink—the blood of Cortland’s I’ll spill tonight and the beautiful pink color of Rylan’s sweet cunt. His death and my new greatest obsession.

I stick the needle into his arm and push the plunger before he can even react.

“What the fuck? Who are you?” he tries to say, but his words are slow, garbled.

Five.

He fumbles from his bed, trying to stand on weakening legs.

Four.

“Are you just—”

Three.

He sways, and his eyes begin to droop as his lips open and close.

Two.

I smile.

One.

He falls to the floor.

Good night, Cortland. We’ll meet again under much better circumstances. Better for me, not for you.

I tape up his hands, feet, and mouth and then scoop him up. He dangles in my grasp, and I bark out a soft laugh as his head slams into the doorframe on the way out. Once we’re in the car, I crank up the radio and pull calmly away.

Red.

Pink.

Rylan is my worst nightmare, wrapped in the presentation of my greatest dream. I’ll have some fun with her while I finish this job, and then I’ll move onto the next town. I drum my thumbs in tune to the music and admit—if only to myself—that I may move on, but there will never be another like her. I don’t believe anything could ever compare to the things I experienced with her the other night. The way her body reacted to each aggressive touch. The way she silently and not so silently begged for me. The way she loved every bit of it as much as I did.

I’ll be back for more from her, as much as I can get while I’m here, and thoughts of the things we’ll do together will live forever in my mind.

She consumes my thoughts as I drive out of Maplefield and into the countryside. Two miles later, I take a sharp right down an overgrown dirt road that is probably only used by county workers maintaining the power lines that cut through the woods.

Cortland starts to stir, and I give him a wry smile when his eyes lazily open, still heavy from the drugs I pumped into his veins. He goes still for just a beat, assessing the situation, and I can almost count down the seconds before he loses his shit.

He struggles in his restraints, and I tsk at him.

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