Chapter 23
Jayce
A few weeks ago, I claimed that I wasn’t a murderer. With a few exceptions, of course. Well, apparently that wasn’t my final form.
As I paced the length of my basement, I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. There were too many goddamn things going on in my head. Part of me screamed to go check on Alana and comfort her. Another part begged to be released upon her like a demon freed to wreak havoc on the world. A very loud part of me was committed to getting rid of the trash I had down here.
“Will you stop pacing?” he snapped.
I turned to him with a raised brow. Preston was sitting up, strapped to a hospital bed I bought off of Facebook Marketplace a while back. Why? You never know when you might need it and these things were versatile. I could lay him back or keep him like this, plus it was easy to strap someone down. They worked well for long or short stays and were easy enough to clean.
Maybe my mental state had been in a weird place for a while, but this was the first time I’d used the bed, so that counted for something.
“It’s ballsy to make demands in your position,” I noted, coming to stand in front of him. He tugged on the restraints, which was useless.
“It’s 2024, asshole. People get caught so fast for this kind of shit.”
“Do they?”
“Someone is already on their way here. They’ll track my phone.”
“The one I smashed and threw in the river when we crossed the bridge heading out of the city before circling back?”
His confidence wavered, but he attempted to maintain his fierce expression. I hadn’t liked him when he took Alana on that godawful date and I especially didn’t like him now. When I put him in the bed, I made sure to fuck up his combover, which was satisfying to look at.
“Cool. Now that we’ve established that…” I grabbed a chair and swung it around to sit in front of him. I leaned forward, perching my elbows on the backrest. “We have a problem, Preston.”
“How do you know who I am? Is this some trafficking thing?”
My nose wrinkled. “If it was, I would’ve thrown you in the river too. You wouldn’t be worth the fifty bucks I’d get for you.”
“Fuck you. You’re a crazy bastard.”
“You’re right. I’d probably have to pay them to take you off my hands. It’s not worth the trouble, if I’m being honest, so what should I do with you?”
“I don’t want to play whatever weird game you’ve concocted.”
Tutting at him, I ran my fingers over the smooth metal of the chair. “I play games, true, but this isn’t one of those times. With Alana, I fucking love to play.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. This is about the girl? Jesus. Look, I don’t give a shit about her. If she’s your girlfriend or somethin’, I’d tell you to move on, but that’s on you. I won’t talk to her again.”
“Mm. I’m actually annoyed with her.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” His voice had reached an annoyingly loud volume and there was a smile on his face. He thought we were bonding over shared disdain for a woman now.
“Annoyance isn’t nearly strong enough to take me away from Alana. She could cut me open and spill my intestines in the street. I’d still profess my love with my dying breath. Maybe I love her enough to take her to the grave with me. You never really know until it happens, I’m sure. Do you think Heathcliff knew he’d lose his damn mind and lie in Catherine’s grave with her? Bet he didn’t.”
Preston appeared confused. His eyes moved to various parts of the room, pausing on a few things. A shovel. A toolbox. Gardening equipment. Weapons he thought he could use if he broke free, I imagine.
Standing, I moved to the side of the bed. “Of all the days you had to act like a dick, you chose today. You made her cry, Preston.”
I flipped open my pocket knife and poised it at his throat. He sucked in a sharp breath. When he started to shake his head, the blade pricked his skin and he went still.
“And here’s the thing,” I went on. “A few weeks ago, I would have let it slide. Maybe I’d rough you up a bit if I was feeling bold that day, but now…” I blew out a breath, puffing my cheeks as I did so. “I’ve tasted her. I’ve marked her. I made her cum so beautifully. You should’ve fucking seen it, Preston. Although, then I’d have to take your eyes.”
He squeezed them shut, drawing in shuddering breaths now. With each one, the blade dug in a little further and put him in a predicament. Breathe or keep his throat intact. His survival instincts must have been fighting like mad for a solution.
“As it stands, I only need to take your tongue for what you said to her, but this isn’t fiction. I can’t just do that, then let you go. I don’t have the type of resources it’d take to keep you quiet. That leaves me one choice.”
“Please,” he gritted out.
“I don’t bargain. You should know that about me. I’m very committed to getting the things that I want. It’s why I’ve protected her for so long. It’s why I killed my twin fucking brother. You think you’re above him and can earn my mercy?”
There it was. The finality, the fear that was unlocked when someone really discovered that they were completely fucked. Death was scary, but torture was sickening to think about. I wondered which one he feared more.
“You don’t have to kill me,” he insisted.
“I kinda do.”
“B-but why? I’ll leave her alone.”
“Mostly, it’s because you’re an asshole. I also need more fertilizer.”
“W-hat?”
I nodded toward the far end of the room. He squinted his eyes, but there was no sign that he knew what he was looking at.
“It’s a composting vessel,” I explained. “The body goes in, it’s cocooned with natural, biodegradable material that will help it to break down, and it’s kept at the perfect temperature through the different phases of the process. If you do it right, it can take less than two months. It’s the perfect way to get rid of a body in its entirety. I can grind down the bones into a powder and add it to the rest, then you become food for my garden. It’s the circle of life,” I sang loudly, throwing my arms out with a wide smile.
“Oh, god, you’re really going to kill me.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I am.” I pushed on the back of his elbow so that his arm straightened. When I made a shallow slice, just enough for it to hurt like a bitch when he moved his arm, he screamed as if I’d stabbed him. “Jesus, you can howl. I’m gonna call you fucking Balto.”
“Please, I w-won’t talk to her again. I won’t talk to any woman in the fucking world if that’s what you want.”
Leaning on the raised arm of the bed, I tapped the blade against the hard plastic. “Here’s the problem. You are what I might call an incel, or close to one. Clearly, you think women owe you something. They don’t. That thing in your pants…” I pointed at it with the knife, which made him tense. “I’ve got one too. Am I harassing women who don’t want to date me? Am I acting like having a Y chromosome somehow makes me better than them? Fuck no, I’m not.”
I paused to consider my words. Alana wasn’t some random woman and it was different. She hadn’t contacted the cops again or told me about her stalker since the time she saw me on the deck. I tattooed her fucking clit, yet she still texted me back. She’d since blocked me, but that would be remedied soon enough. She was curious enough to land herself in a position to let me in just a little bit more every time I saw her.
“So, yeah, as I was saying, you are who you are. If it takes me threatening your life for you to decide you can suddenly be a decent person and treat women like equals, then you’re a lost cause. Anyone will change their tune when they’re tortured.”
“T-tortured?”
“I want you to know that I’m not doing this because I enjoy it. It’s just how things have to be.”
Keeping his arm straight, I dug the blade into the front of his shoulder. When he thrashed, I tightened the strap around his chest and held on tighter. The knife cut through with more ease than I’d expected and when it met more resistance, I lessened the pressure. I started to drag it further down, making one long slice from shoulder to wrist.
As the sides split from each other, I imagined it was a grotesque flower beginning to bloom. It was fitting since he would be feeding my garden soon.
Blood dripped onto the floor, covering my bare feet. Both of those could be washed since I’d installed seamless marble across the entire space. Whereas concrete was too porous to risk blood splatter, this was functional.
He screamed for me to stop and when I moved to the other arm, he became incoherent. He was blubbering, crying, praying, cursing me.
“Relax. It’s not deep enough for you to bleed out. If you hadn’t made her cry, I would’ve made this easier for you,” I noted, moving toward his lower body.
His eyes were heavy, so I decided to forego the legs. I ripped open the front of his pants and cut them a little further down to give me more room. With renewed vigor, he bucked on the bed.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me with that.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. I already had his blood on me, but this was different. This required a buffer, otherwise it felt wrong.
“Dick or balls?” I asked.
“No, no, no. Stop, please. Oh, god, help me.”
“It doesn’t really matter which goes first. I say dick. You might pass out after and I really want you to feel that one the most. It’s a good thing you’ve stayed hard throughout this. I bet you were wondering why. Or were you not thinking about your dick for once?”
He stared at it in horror. “W-what…”
“Just blue pills, nothing to worry about. The amount I gave you might be fatal, but I needed to make sure it’d work and, well, you’re not getting out of here anyway.”
He was muttering nonsense again. I grabbed the middle of his shaft, grimacing the whole time. I never thought I’d touch a man’s dick, let alone his rock solid one. And if I did, it wouldn’t be like this.
When the cold steel touched him, he started screaming bloody fucking murder. I just wanted to get it over with at this point, so I swiped it downward, then back up in a sawing motion. I didn’t think there was a way for a man to do this without feeling a bit queasy. It sent a shudder through me, but I soldiered on.
Halfway through, Preston passed out, so I dropped his dick. It flopped over and I thought it’d tear the rest of the way off, but it just hung there limply. I used smelling salts to wake him and he jolted for a moment but then passed out again.
I didn’t have the patience for it, so I grabbed his hanging shaft and yanked on it hard enough to rip the other half free. That woke him up. His breaths were shallow and rapid, his eyes wide, and I wondered if the pain was great enough that he couldn’t scream anymore. Maybe he was in shock or something. I didn’t dare look these things up, considering what I was doing in my basement right now.
The balls didn’t really matter and I was tired of touching his junk, so I tossed the dick stub at him. It hit him in the eye and he let out a little cry. It fell into his lap, which would become its final resting place.
Gripping the handle of the knife tighter, I drove it into his trachea. When I pulled it free, blood gushed out. It covered his chest like an apron and his eyes rolled back.
This was the bloodiest, most gruesome thing I’d ever done. And I’d done it because he made Alana cry. Fuck, being without her was just driving me more insane by the day. I wanted her, I needed her.
Three more days, then it would be Saturday. I’d promised her a week. How would I get her to trust me if I didn’t abide by my word?