Trevel’s Epilogue #3
My stomach is doing somersaults. I’m swooning over how adorable he is when he’s all shy and insecure, while also feeling like kind of a knob for making him think I’m not hopelessly in love and desperate to have his babies.
“By…” I whisper, considering just falling onto one knee right here and now. But a ping from my pocket stops me. This is it… “The signal… Hold that thought, sweet fury.”
Yanking him along, I bring him up the steps and into the house.
The door is unlocked, as expected. And the moment I set foot inside, I’m bombarded with treacherous memories.
It’s not even the same place, but my parents live here; the people who brought me into this world, and then tortured me for years out of their own sick amusement.
They made me into what I am… Not quite evil, but certainly not good.
It’s the scent of them, I think. The same knickknacks triggering images of the abuse. I barely even notice that I’m having trouble walking until I collapse into a wall, clutching Byron’s hand to my chest while I struggle to breathe.
“Baby, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want,” he whispers, holding my face. “We can leave anytime, and you’ll still know they’re gone…”
“No,” I gasp, shaking my head. “I want to. I need to see…”
He still appears concerned for me, but he nods, helping me continue on. Giving me his strength to share.
We move to the bedroom at the far end of the flat, where they told us they’d be. And when I peer through the doorway, I have to gulp.
There are my parents, tied up back-to-back, mouths gagged with dirty socks. My chin lifts, and I exhale.
“Hey,” I murmur to Felix and Lem.
Felix shows me a kind smile. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I mumble. “Nervous…”
He nods in understanding.
“I haven’t seen them in over a decade…”
Lem pushes himself off the wall, stalking toward the doorway. “I’m going to keep watch.” He drops a large hand on my shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze. And then he strides away.
Byron slips his fingers up into my shirt, trailing them along my lower back. “You want me to stay?”
Peeking at him, I take in his face. It’s the face of someone who will do literally anything for me, and it’s mesmerizing. “Only if you want to.”
His lips curve. “I’m here.”
“I’m… here.”
I take Byron’s hand once more, and nod at Felix. “I’m ready.”
Felix exhales heavily, his entire aura coming alive with the energy of The Carver. He looks different, moves different. He seems lit up, and yes, it’s a bit terrifying, but also sort of brilliant.
Let’s not pretend he isn’t doing this for himself, but it’s also for me. And I’m happy to give him this opportunity.
My mother and father are fighting against their ropes, mumbling and moaning as Felix rounds them with a kitchen knife.
“Would you like to say something to them?” he asks me, gray eyes dark, yet shining with encouragement.
My mouth slopes. “Actually… yes. I would.”
Positioned so that they both can see me, I cock my head, gaze narrowed. I feel a lot of things being next to them right now. Rage, pity, sadness… But most of all, I’m relieved. Because, in a matter of minutes, they’ll be dead. And I’ll still be alive, holding the hand of someone who loves me.
I feel victorious already.
“Hi, Mum and Dad.” I smirk at the fear in their eyes. “Remember me?”
The next morning, Byron and I sleep late. We’re exhausted from a long night of watching The Carver hack my parents to bits and discard them in a nearby pond.
He carved T’s all over their faces— for Trevel, obviously —and rather than giving them even the mild satisfaction of being posed, he simply scattered their parts all around, removing their teeth, and fingers and any distinguishing marks in order to delay identification.
Afterward, the four of us went out for a few pints, got a little tipsy, and wound up singing karaoke until the sun came up.
When Byron and I returned to our hotel, we were drunk and high on the adrenaline of watching a serial killer murder and dismember my parents. We fucked until we couldn’t keep our eyes open, then passed out covered in lube, cum, and sweat.
A fantastic evening of debauchery.
We came down to the hotel restaurant for greasy burgers and bloody marys to cure the hangover and refuel for more sex. And I’m just staring at Byron in between bites, watching him stuff his face in the most adorable and somehow sexy fashion.
“I’ve gotta say… Darcey really knows what he’s doing,” he rambles, pouring out more brown sauce for his chips. “The dude is thorough. If there was a serial killer Olympics, I’m confident he’d take the gold. For America, anyway.”
I snort. “Who’d get silver?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “I hate to say it, but probably Bundy. The guy was an obnoxious conservative prick, but he was tenacious as fuck. Wily … You know he escaped prison twice?”
“That’s not that impressive… I know people who’ve done that,” I murmur, and he chuckles. Stifling an out-of-control grin, I pick up a pepper shaker. “I never knew you were so into true crime…”
He scoffs. “You definitely did. How many nights have we spent rotting in the apartment, binge-watching true crime shows?”
While he’s distracted, I’m nodding, casually dumping pepper into my hand. “You’re right. Hey, By?”
“Yea?”
I blow the pepper into his face like pixie dust, and he immediately starts coughing.
“Jesus fuck!” He’s frantically wiping his nose and eyes while I’m cackling wickedly. “What the hell did you do that for?!”
“Two truths and a lie, sweet fury.” I grip the edge of the table, staring at him in wait.
He pauses his freaking out to gawk back at me. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
I nod emphatically. “Are you really not going to sneeze right now??”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Do I seem like I tend gardens in my spare time?”
“Hey, anything is possible.” I frown. “It’s a lot more believable than never sneezing in your entire life!”
He shrugs. “What can I tell you, gorgeous? I just—” His words cut out, his face scrunching.
My eyes widen in anticipation.
But he just shakes it off and takes a sip from his drink. More pepper! There’s pepper in the bloody bloody mary! I can’t even right now.
“I’m awestruck,” I murmur, and he grins, winking at me. “No, seriously. Byron, I… Can we…”
“Can we what?” he hums, continuing on with his eating. “Go to the loo and shag?” Clearly proud of himself with that one, he grins wide.
I’m seriously about to cry.
“Can we get married?” I ask softly, and his face flings to mine.
I’m not sure his eyes have ever been wider. I sneeze, and he mutters, “God bless you.”
“Cheers.”
“Wait, hold on… Married? ”
I nod. “You said we were way past dating…”
“Okay, but there’s a pretty big leap from whatever comes after dating and marriage… isn’t there?”
“We’re already living together.” I shrug.
“That’s true…” he hums, chewing his bottom lip.
“We’re hopelessly in love…” I grab his hand from across the table and suck salt and burger grease off of his finger. He chuckles. “And we have the most earth-shattering sex known to mankind.”
An old lady at the table next to ours gasps and makes a face.
Byron laughs some more. “Also, very true.”
“Plus, all our friends are doing it.” I grin. “We don’t want to be left out…”
“No, we do not,” he croons, playing with my fingers.
“So, what do you think?” I bat my eyelashes at him.
He’s quiet for a moment, clearly in deep thought before he says, “Well, I’d have to ask you first…” He cocks a brow. “We’re not just popping down to the courthouse.”
I purse my lips. “No?”
He shakes his head.
“You want it to be romantic , sweet fury?”
“Oh, I’m gonna sweep you off your feet, Vi.” He beams. “You better be ready.”
“I am so ready.”
My gut is swarming with thrill as he smirks. “On your mark…”
“Get set…” I whisper, biting my lip.
Go.