Chapter 13 Ethan
"Ethan, fuck.. I’m coming.”
Alina’s husky voice crackles through the speaker of my phone as I stroke my dick to the video of her circling her fingers around her sopping cunt.
She never knew about the camera I stashed in her room, but I needed to know how she truly felt about me.
I needed to see the filthy things she got up to in her room when she was alone, and thank fuck I did that.
Heavy moans and soft whimpers echo in the small space of my apartment and I can feel my own orgasm burning a hole in the base of my spine. My balls draw up tightly then hot ropes of thick cum splat against my abdomen.
“Fuck.” I groan through gritted teeth as I milk myself dry until I’m fully spent.
Once the last of my orgasm has splashed against my skin, I click off the video and grab a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside unit to clean myself up with, then throw them into the bin with the rest of my filthy orgasms.
Euphoria leaves as quickly as it came, and now I’m left in the deafening silence again. My thoughts are heavy and sharp as they rattle around in my mind.
I’m nervous about seeing my sister after so long.
I know she’s here in the cold storage unit we have, I specifically asked Mr Wilson to swap her body with a look-alike for the funeral.
To tell my dad and her friends, attending the funeral that she was too battered to be embalmed.
They were clueless to my requests and thought nothing of it.
I couldn’t deal with the thought of Alina not being earth side with me, to have her body burnt or six feet under in the cold soil.
She wasn’t meant for that. She’s meant to be mine, forever.
Lifting my hand, I grip the bridge of my nose between my fingers to ease the tension I can feel brewing there before swinging my legs over to the edge of the bed and letting my head hang heavy between my shoulders. Tiredness settles in my bones and I groan at the ache in my limbs.
I’m just so fucking tired but the urge to see Alina, to touch her cold skin overthrows any negative thoughts I’m having.
After a scalding shower, I quickly get dressed and head downstairs.
Mr Wilson left a voicemail on the answering machine early this morning to let me know that he would be taking a couple of days holiday.
It would seem my idea of finishing work early yesterday has given him the push he needed to accept that he needed some time off.
That man works far too hard for his age, and it’s the perfect opportunity to have some alone time with Alina.
I delete the message from the machine and quickly scour over the calendar for today, noting that I only have two cremations, and my father’s bagged up guts, to complete.
Maybe the higher powers, if you believe in that shit, are on my side for once. I don’t deserve it, but I’d like to think so.
Clicking off the calendar, I go through the motions of scrubbing the autopsy room, removing any essence of my father from the space and then move onto the cremations I need to do.
The day seems to fly by in a blur, exhaustion threatens my weary eyes but as I stand in the middle of the room where cold bodies line the walls, I can feel the pull of Alina around my soul.
Her claws deep inside my chest as she yanks me towards the door that leads down into the basement, the door I’ve been frightened to open until now.
Without my dad’s chains wrapped around my throat, nothing is standing in my way from seeing Alina anymore.
So I follow that strong pull and allow it to guide me towards the door and down the concrete steps.
My boots scuff against any loose stones that lay on the floor, alongside the damp smell of wet brick.
A single bulb hangs from the low ceiling. I run my hand against the bare brick until my fingers find the light switch. Flicking it on, the bulb flickers to life to reveal a metal table sitting dead centre in the room and a metal door on the far wall.
I stop in my tracks. Frozen in time as my eyes roam over the pristine table, then towards the door that seems to taunt me and I swear I can hear my sister calling for me from behind it.
“Ethan, is that you?”
My breath stutters as I take slow steps towards the door. Even in death, Alina has this hold over me that I’ll never break free from. She’ll consume me for the rest of my days.
Once I reach the door, I gingerly lift my hand and place it on the handle.
It’s cold to the touch, ice fills my bloodstream and without a second thought, I push down on the handle then pull the door open.
Plumes of cold smoke slither out of the frozen room and gather around my feet before disappearing into the air.
It’s freezing down here but I can feel the sweat gathering across my brows.
The coldness bites at my skin with its razor sharp teeth and immediately my eyes land on the cardboard box that’s sitting on top of a metal table.
Alina is here.
She’s right in front of me, after all these years.
She’s inside that box.
My feet seem to move on their own accord across the small space towards the box. Boots scraping across the floor, hands eager to lift the lid. Desperate to reveal my beautiful gift that lies sleeping inside.
I don’t give myself a chance to back out from the decision and slip my fingers under the cardboard lid, lifting it with eagerness to uncover my sister's corpse.
There she lies before me, all blue-tinged and cold.
Alina’s lashes lay gentle across her marbled cheeks and I can’t stop my gaze from traveling over her peaceful face.
Mr Wilson has done a perfect job of patching up the chunks of flesh that were missing on her face from the tarmac.
He must have used skin grafts from other areas of her body to fix the wounds she had littered all over her body.
A few have faded due to the cold temperatures, but many are still prominent on her frozen body.
A large gash cuts straight across her perky tits, probably from when the bonnet of the car crushed her chest. There’s also wounds across her arms and legs that have been sewn up like a patchwork doll.
Instantly a thought passes through my mind. I have my very own living dead doll. A perfect play thing.
My pretty dead girl.
Lifting my hand from the box, I carefully trail the pad of my index finger over her blonde hair. Small specks of ice gather in the strands that now feel like straw but it doesn’t stop me from diving deeper into the locks, nails scraping across her frozen scalp.
I close my eyes and imagine her groaning from the sensation of my hand in her hair. Watching her stormy eyes roll into the back of her head as I massage her scalp. Something sharp and metal brushes against my fingers, there’s a few of them in a perfect row around the back of her head.
Staples.
Two, four, six, eight.. ten of them wrap around her scalp. Cinching the skin together in a tight grip. I follow the path of staples as they end behind her ear, then I continue on across her jaw and down her slender throat.
Blue hues cover the expanse of her translucent skin, frozen blood sits heavy in her veins, waiting patiently for me to nick one with my scalpel and drink her essence. I bet Alina would taste like a fine wine, fruity and rich. Her flavour would burst on my tongue like bubbling champagne.
A deep groan slips past my lips at the thought and my cock grows thick behind the zipper of my trousers.
I never thought I’d see the day where I got a hard on for a corpse, but this isn’t just any corpse. The young woman, frozen in time, is my little sister. My sister who I’ve missed, so very much.
Time continued on for me, whereas it stopped for Alina. She’ll remain forever seventeen. Stuck in the afterlife waiting for me but nothing stands in my way now. No family, no friends, just her and me, together in this frozen room.
I know it’s wrong. Everything about this situation is wrong, but I left my morals in the past a long time ago, and I can’t fight this urge inside of me to have my way with Alina. I deserve it, I’ve been patient. I’ve bided my time, I’ve been fucking good.
Lifting my hand from her face, I brush the pads of my fingers over the stitches on her collarbone, they’re rough and dry against my skin but she’ll soon become malleable from the heat that’s radiating through me.
I’ll be able to bend her to my will, break her then piece her back together into my own perfect image.
Tiny beads of condensation glisten against her skin like raindrops gathering on thin blades of grass.
They trail down her frozen skin and without a second thought, I catch one with my tongue.
Sour chemicals and a taste that’s so unique to Alina, bursts on my tongue like a deadly cocktail and I groan from the pleasure she’s giving me from the dead.
I trail the bead of water across her chest, following the incision down the valley of her perfect breasts like a bread crumb trail until I reach the well of her stomach.
My teeth graze across her flesh until a loose thread from the stitches gets caught around my incisor like dental floss. I tug at the cotton until it snaps, leaving a small hole in her stomach where frozen flesh threatens to pop out.
I rise to my full height and push my finger inside the small hole.
I expect to find her guts all warm and slimy, like the corpses I’m used to but the tip of my finger grows cold the longer I leave it in there and when I pull it out, there’s no blood either.
It’s clean but wet, a slimy sheen coating the area.
If Alina is cold and wet inside her stomach, what would her virgin pussy feel like?