Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
You’ve Created a Monster - Bohnes
I shut everything off when I kill people. Or at least, I try. If I don’t, every single memory will come roaring to the surface, and I think I’ll actually lose my mind. I’ll black out and do something stupid.
‘Something stupid like killing someone?’ Buff pipes up from the back seat.
I snort. I should be concerned that Buff is reading my thoughts. I should be concerned, but the thought is like a puff of breath in the wind. Just like the pain in my chest from the cuts—the feeling comes and goes. Which should also be concerning.
Logan gives me a weird look, then goes back to watching his phone. We’re on some stakeout that he determined was necessary. He said something about Dillon being protected by Callum and Vox.
I don’t give a flying fuck who he’s protected by. I’ll kill his protection too, or die trying.
I zone back out. When I get like this, it feels like I’m surfing a wave. Like all the dark has curled over me, surrounding me, rushing in my ears with a strange sort of calmness. The calm won’t last long. It lasts shorter and shorter each time, but it’s still the most addictive spot. I want to sit here forever. I want to feel the darkness roaring all around me but not let it touch me.
But that’s the thing. The wave always crashes.
The car is quiet, and it makes my leg bounce. I’m not so sure why Logan is scared of Callum and Vox.
Vox. I snort. Vox the fox. He is a bit of a silver fox with his white hair and all. And like that, all my thoughts are tumbling around like clothes in a dryer.
I can still feel some of the stickiness on my legs, and it makes a shiver roll through me.
Sticky, sticky, sticky. The feeling is triggering a memory, and suddenly, there’s a sinking in my gut, and an overwhelming sense of dread wraps around me. I’ve been sticky before. When have I been sticky before?
Suddenly, I’m a kid again.
I step into Ember’s room, frowning at the annoyingly pink stuffed animals and clothes and bedspread. For a blind girl, she really does pick the worst color. I nearly trip on a pink sparkly binder, then start collecting her Barbie sheets off the bed. If I do my chores fast enough, I can take my truck to the park.
Suddenly, my hand is cold and wet. No, not wet—sticky. I frown, looking down. My hand is red. My eyes widen as I look at the bed. There, by the foot of the bed, is a huge puddle of…blood.
At first, I’m numb. I just stare at it. Blood doesn’t go here. It doesn’t go here, and there’s so much of it. I blink, looking around the room. Everything else looks…normal. Is Ember okay? I think back to when I last saw her, which was this morning, on the couch. She frowned at me when I tried to change the cartoons this morning. Mom doesn’t let us watch cartoons. She must have allowed it because our grandpa is visiting.
My skin starts to crawl. I have blood on my hand! Where do I put it? I can’t put it on the sheets. I can’t put it on the sheets, or I’ll stain them.
I back up to the door, then trip on something else. When I look down, it’s Ember’s PJ’s. They’re bloody, too. No, not all of them. Just the bottoms. Sticky, sticky blood.
Suddenly, I want to throw up. I run to find Mom, crying that Ember is dying. She’s dying, and I’m sticky, and I have nowhere to wipe my hands.
I bolt upright, breathing heavily. The memory feels like a long-forgotten monster that swam out of the depths. I remember this. Mom and Dad took Ember to the hospital. Then they told me she wasn’t dying, and I never heard a word about it. But we never saw our grandpa after that.
Suddenly, Logan’s hand is on my thigh. “You good?”
I jerk my head over, nostrils flaring. Good? I almost laugh. My legs won’t stop shaking, and he can feel it. His hand is on me, and he can feel it. For some reason, this feels scarier than when he was touching my dick. This feels…fucking terrifying.
I shove Logan off me.
Then comes Buffalo’s outraged roar, ‘PUT IT BACK. And tell him we’re peachy. Like an ass. Peachy.’
I want to drop my head in my hands. Drown out the roaring in my ears. Get back to that peaceful state before I crash into oblivion.
I don’t remember a court case. Would I remember that? Of course I would. Ember would have had to testify.
There was no court case .
A bitter laugh bubbles up in my chest. The laugh catches hold of something manic in my soul. Some manic rush that wants the wave to crash over me.
I want it to crash over me and kill me. To make me stop feeling.
“Hey…” Logan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and suddenly, his hand is on my back. He’s rubbing my back.
“What?” The question comes out harsh. And, for some reason, angry. But Logan’s touch feels comforting in the most disconcerting way. Like I’m getting a hug but in a haunted house. Something isn’t right. Why is he touching me like that? What does he want?
Logan catches my gaze, and his blue eyes look…like he cares. Which is stupid. Because Logan doesn’t care.
I shove his hand off me. “What do you want from me, Logan? Do you want to tell me how to make my kills? How to fuck up my hunt?” I’m starting to get worked up, but I can’t really stop. Not now. Not when my heart is racing and the roaring is taking over. “You want to play Daddy and tell me what I can and can’t do? Or maybe,” I lean over him, “you want to fuck me against my will again?”
I’m not sure why I say it, but Logan snarls, shoving me back. And suddenly, he’s the one leaning over me.
“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to snap out of it.”
He’s over me, all angry and gnashing teeth, and suddenly, all I want to do is fuck. I want to feel someone’s body against mine, writhing up and down. Want to feel the overwhelming sensations I just felt. Want to keep the darkness at bay.
Before I can think twice, I smash my face into Logan’s and kiss him.
Logan freezes for just a second, and suddenly, he’s kissing me back just as hard. We both fight for dominance, and I reach my hand down to palm his dick. Just as quickly, he bats my hand away, and then he’s on top of me, leaning over me and pushing me back into my seat. I nip at his bottom lip. It only makes Logan growl, and suddenly one hand is around my neck, and the other is grabbing my dick. It makes pleasure shoot through me so strongly that I barely hear the alarm that’s started going off.
Logan freezes, groaning into my mouth. I bite at him, chasing him down in a haze, trying to get him to come back.
“Fuck.” Logan rips away from me, checking his phone.
I chase after him, grabbing his dick, “Just ignore it.”
“I can’t.” Logan frowns, his body tense. “You might be—someone might be coming.”
I put my hand over my eyes, anger and frustration filling me. I just kissed a man, and it wasn’t against my will. I just kissed a man, and he broke it off.
“They’re moving.” Logan throws the phone down. “They’re…leaving? Callum and Vox are leaving.”
I glance around. We’re parked in the movie theater parking lot. Apparently, Dillon planned on coming here with his wife for a matinee. I wanted to jump in and kill him before this, but Logan was scared of the other two. Funny, cause I’d rather kill them than run from them.
Logan taps on his phone a few times, not looking at me, the tension thick in the car.
A bitter taste fills my mouth. Fuck this. Before Logan can stop me, I step out of the car.
I have a gun. I know how to use it. Time to kill this motherfucker.