37. Delilah
DELILAH
John’s lifeless body laid in a puddle of blood, dick hanging out of his mouth looking like a stuffed pig.
His corpse pushed it out, which surprised me.
My hand sat by my side holding onto the knives that ended him, blood dripping off the tip.
Red and blue lights illuminated the arched ceiling of the church.
Movies don’t prepare you for the sounds a dead body makes. Or the smells. The squelching that happens when you sink a knife into another human’s flesh. These felt like brand new facts that lived in my brain now.
“Delilah,” Cain said as I stared down at what I’d done. A surge of relief shot through me, but it was cut short by the siren’s wail echoing off the walls.
“Baby, please. We have to go.”
I blinked slowly. If the police were already outside, where could we go?
I was distantly aware that we were in danger, but my brain was still processing what I’d done.
If there was a heaven, I certainly wouldn’t be getting in now.
I’m pretty sure murder was a no go. And especially one that I didn’t feel any sort of remorse over.
“Delilah,” Cain said, coming up to my side and shaking my shoulders.
I felt like I was having an out of body experience.
My husband’s corpse laid right next to me and I was covered in his blood.
There was no talking myself out of this one now.
They already thought I tried to kill him before.
This time, I actually did, though. I committed a whole crime. They wouldn’t let me walk away now.
“I told you, Cain, I wouldn’t let them take us this time,” I said, raising the knives in my hands up to my jugular and his.
“We can go out together.” My eyes locked with his and an unspoken promise pulled taught between us.
I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want them to capture us either. Death seemed like a safer choice than to be put through any more hell at the hands of these sick people.
“Together?” Cain asked, taking a knife from me and holding it up to his own neck, same as me. We held hands and I felt a sense of calm come over me. At least I wouldn’t be alone.
“Together,” I agreed, feeling the tell-tale sting of tears in my eyes. “I love you, Cain.”
“I love you, too, Delilah. So fucking much. On three?”
“On three.”
“One… two…”
A large man in a white skull mask and leather jacket came bursting into the sanctuary chest heaving and arms waving.
“Fuck! Stop!”
Cain and I both instinctively raised our arms, expecting to be taken or shot at, or both. But the man only gestured at us to follow him. “Come on. There’s an exit this way.”
“Ace?” Cain asked.
He nodded. “No time. Let’s go.”
“You know him?” I asked.
Cain nodded. “I guess he has a way out of here,” he said, and relief washed through me. Maybe there was hope for us after all, realizing he must have seen what was happening from all the cameras we had placed.
We followed him down into the depths of the church where there was a small, dark tunnel.
We each were handed a flashlight and told to be quiet.
Up above the sound of angry footsteps filled the air and several shouts rang out for someone to get an ambulance.
It was too late to save John now. He was dead, dead, dead.
That thought made a giggle rise up in my throat, before I swallowed it back down.
Maybe I was cracking under the pressure, because it wasn’t funny.
Not in the least. We were literally running for our lives and here my brain was cracking up remembering John choking on his own dick. Maybe I was in shock.
“Let’s try down here!” A voice said, and I quickened my pace, but Ace stopped.
Whispering he said, “You two go up ahead. Take the exit to the left. There’s a motorcycle waiting for you, it’s underneath some ivy at the blue house. Number 311. Once you’re there, leave. Get out of the country as fast as you can. Don’t come back until I contact you.”
“What about you?” Cain asked.
“I’ll be fine. Now go.”
Cain grabbed my wrist and pulled me to follow him.
“Thank you,” I said in a whisper, not knowing how to show my appreciation towards this stranger. “Make sure he takes care of Rascal,” I said before we left.
Cain shook his head like he couldn’t believe I was worried about the squirrel at a time like this.
We ran the rest of the way, ears straining for any signs of being followed.
I was keenly aware that this Ace guy could have a change of heart and turn us in at any moment.
But then, we got to the door, and the motorcycle was right where he said it would be.
Hidden under a cascading bundle of ivy. We both put on helmets and peeled out of there, passing the church on the way.
John’s body was being carried out on a stretcher covered in a stark white sheet.
Neighbors stood with mouths covered and phones out, gawking at the unfolding crime scene.
They were sectioning off the front with tape and telling people to go home on a megaphone.
Not one of them looked in our direction as we drove off into the sunset with my blood soaked hands gripped tightly around Cain’s middle.
We fucking did it.