Rage

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Casper

I n the morning, the orange sun rises from the water, eating away the fog.

Samantha has come back to me. Her body is draped across the rocks, her grayed eyes watching the clear sky. I pick up her lifeless body from the shore and take her inside. I brush the hair from her face and trace her pale lips with my thumb before kissing her. I press my tongue in her mouth and hold her in my arms.

Someone is to blame here. For hours, I think it’s me, that I drove her away and she drowned trying to escape who I am. The boat must have hit a rock while she was panicking and sunk.

But then, the boat finds its way to my shore the same way she did. I walk out onto the dock and grab the rope, twisting it around a wooden pole. There’s nothing wrong with it. Could she have fallen out? No, that makes little sense.

Someone is to blame for why all her kisses are now cold. That someone will pay for what they’ve done. They all will—all the moving dots I’ve seen on the other shore. Their existence means nothing to me. There was only one life that mattered, and they stole it. Everything in my life was cursed except for her. Now, she is gone. She moored me to life and morality. All the light in my soul is dead.

That night, I lay with her in bed, pressing kisses to her cold skin. I’ve given up on fighting the darkness.

I miss her warmth. I miss her nails in my back and heels digging into my ass. I miss the flush to her skin and her breath hitting me as I thrust into her. I keep her body under blankets, trying to keep it warm as I fuck her—groaning and panting while she remains silent. The impossibility of my existence is second only to the impossibility of how much I love her. It’s unreasonable and senseless.

I am cunning, charming, intelligent, and strong. Samantha wanted the best parts but was shallow in her choices. A pretty devil, a deranged scientist, a large strong body… She had no clue what she was really making. She saw the outside, but the inside is what matters. And right now, I will use everything I am to seek vengeance for what's happened to her.

When dawn comes, I leave her on the island. Now, her abomination will do what she feared most: be free. I’m sorry, Samantha. Your memory isn’t enough to keep me from my corruption. However, your memory is enough for me to slaughter as many people as I can.

Perhaps Samantha was always meant to make me accept my wickedness instead of evading it. It makes more sense that way.

Samantha wasn’t perfect, but she was my everything. I don’t know how to bring her back, the same way she didn’t know how to bring back a single man and instead made an entirely new one. I don’t want a new woman; I want Samantha.

I row to shore, finding a small, sandy beach to pull the boat up on. I look up the cliff and see the university. As I try to find a way up, I come across a little building. There are lots of men around it, all wearing matching clothes.

“Stop!” they shout, and I stand still, looking over them. Their eyes bug when they see the size of me. My shirt hangs loosely open; it was always too small to button. The scars on my chest are visible for their inspection.

“Don’t I know you?” one asks. This one is dressed differently. He has on a dark suit and a round hat on his head. There’s a gold shield pinned to his coat. A detective, I realize. The rest are street cops. I dealt with them a lot in one of my past lives.

“Dear God, it’s The Smiling Sinner!” a cop yells.

“He was hung at the throat,” another scoffs.

“He has his face…”

“His face? What does that mean?” Suddenly, the mood changes. People are pulling guns, aiming them at me and shaking.

“What’s wrong with him? Look at his head.” I lift my hand and touch the scar on my forehead. I suppose that would be disturbing for them.

“Did you bring that boat here just now?” the detective asks, pointing behind me. He’s the only one remaining calm. I open my mouth and groan at him.

“Stop doing that!” a cop hisses.

“Did you see Samantha Hawthorne?” the detective asks. Her name in his mouth seals his destiny. It lets me know everything I need to.

Fate is never murky or gray like the bay—not for me. It’s a pendulum swinging back and forth in favor and against me. Why else would Samantha wash up on my shore? Why else would the boat follow after? And what other explanation is there for why the person responsible for my anguish is standing right in front of me, as if waiting for his punishment?

My mouth twists into a smile.

“Dear God, it is The Smiling Sinner, but how can it be?” They quake. I open my mouth and laugh. I’d been practicing for her, but now, they can hear it as they suffer. Someone fires a shot, and it buries in my chest. Everyone is silent, waiting for something that never comes—my death.

I lunge forward, grabbing the man who shot me and throwing him towards the rocks at the shore. His body flies. More shots go off. Samantha didn’t make me to die; she made me to live. Nothing can stop my vengeance. Nothing can stop the pain.

Their screams echo across the bay until all that’s left is the detective trying to crawl towards escape over men who have been ripped to shreds. When I grab his coat and lift him from the ground, he buries a knife in my side. I drop him to pull out the knife and throw it. Then, I get down on my knees and grab his head in my hands.

“What are you?” he asks. I press my thumbs into his eyes and push slowly, savoring his tortured howl. I hope the sounds reach her somewhere, and she knows what I’ve done.

What am I? I’m Samantha’s monster, and I will destroy every thread that holds this world together until I can bring her back to me.