Chapter 38 BETH
BETH
I’m going to marry you, Beth Fraser
Three days had passed already. But the brutality of Mr. Donald’s murder still hung heavy like a stubborn dark cloud. Every news media sunk their fangs so deep into it and wouldn’t let go.
Lochborne Academy of Arts wasn’t any different. Even if just for a few days, he had taught here after all. The halls were still buzzing with the news when the final bell rang, like it had been going on since it happened.
There were voices, some low, some loud enough to be heard from a mile. Then there was the conspiratorial laughter, curiosity sharpened into something…ugly.
Just like yesterday, and the day before that, I walked beside Kenzo, silent, brooding, my steps automatic, and my mind was nowhere near my body.
“Did you see the photo before they took it down?” a boy behind us asked his company.
“Nah,” the other replied, sounding defeated. “My cousin did though. Said it was bad. Showed it to his mom and she fucking passed out in the kitchen.”
My fingers tightened around my strap. Someone passed out from seeing the body. And then there was me who–
“–They said the tongue was…” the person trailed off, too afraid to voice his thoughts.
“Yeah, his tongue was gone too,” another completed. “He was basically in pieces.”
I swallowed.
“I didn’t like that they replaced Mr. Walsh, anyway.” A feminine voice echoed from afar, I didn’t bother to look. “I guess someone really took it personal.”
Then laughter followed, synced, careless, and cruel in its ignorance. Was it really funny? That a man was chopped into pieces in his own home?
I kept walking, Kenzo’s steps falling steadily beside me. He hadn’t uttered a word since I left my last class and we met by my locker. At least I didn’t think he had said a thing.
He wasn’t particularly sad for Mr. Donald.
I wasn’t sure if he thought he deserved it too.
And like everyone else, he wondered who did it.
He didn’t know the man that did it had kissed me right after, fucked me hard and gave me one of the wildest orgasm of my life.
He didn’t know that I had watched it too, when the tongue was severed, when the arm was chopped off, and when the other parts of the body followed.
My stomach twisted.
What would happen when Kenzo and everyone else found out the hand that murdered Mr. Donald always touched my face? That his fingers often traced my skin like I belonged to him?
What would happen when they find out that I was with the killer just this morning? That he’d bunched my plaid skirt around my waist, dragged my panties down and pressed my face against the silk sheet, while he pounded into me because he couldn’t afford to skip breakfast.
A tremor ran through me as I wondered; if Zaghan could kill a man for scaring me and touching me, what would he do if I ran away from him?
Was I trapped with him forever? Was this life my forever? Would I end up with a man who would always come home covered in blood?
Would the blood on his hands one day me mine? He did say he would kill me eventually.
My breath stuttered, coming too fast, too shallow. The edges of the world began to blur, the lockers stretching, voices echoing like they were underwater.
It might be anxiety, or the fact that I hadn’t slept in days, not really. I was finally about to doze off after eating a cereal on the kitchen counter yesterday night when Zaghan barged in and dragged me out. And then he proceeded to fuck me all night long…and this morning.
I was exhausted. My mind was fraying. It might be that. Or I was really falling apart, dying.
“Beth?”
My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, my blood turning to larvae in my veins. I couldn’t breathe.
“Beth?”
“Beth!”
I flinched.
Kenzo had stopped walking, turning to face me, hands on my shoulders to steady me, worry written all over his face.
“Are you…okay?” he asked, one hand lifting off my shoulder and resting on my forehead.
“Yeah…” I murmured, the words falling from my mouth, thin and fragile, like it would shatter if I said it too loud. “I’m…okay?”
“Are you sure?” He scanned my face. “You’re sweating.”
“I’m fine,” I murmured again. “Just exhausted.”
He didn’t believe me, of course. But he didn’t push. Reluctantly, his hand dropped from my shoulder, falling into his pocket.
He studied me for a moment, then sighed before returning to his position beside me.
I began to walk again, my legs feeling like jelly, like I would collapse if I walked a distance too far.
“I was saying.” Kenzo’s voice drifted into my thoughts again, “My mom was hoping you could come to her birthday dinner tonight.”
I would have loved to. Mrs. Takahashi’s birthday dinners were always a delight. She would promise a small gathering, but I would arrive and find the whole country already there.
In fact, I should be there. Rose Takahashi was nearly like a mother to me. She would buy me clothes sometimes—all designer brands, and often took me to a daughter and mom mani pedi. She fed me many times until my belly was full.
She deserved my presence.
But I couldn’t. Not today.
“I-I can’t,” I said finally, staring at my feet, hating the taste of the words rolling off my tongue.
Zaghan was picking me up. He said he wanted us to spend the day together, like I wasn’t already spending more time with him than with myself.
He was keeping an eye on me now, really keenly. He’d watch me the way people watched exits. Like I might vanish if he blinked. And the thought of disappointing him, of doing something that looked like distance, made my chest tight.
He wouldn’t let me go. He would hunt me down, destroy anything that looked like a challenge and this time, lock me in a proper cage.
His obsession with me wasn’t fallacy, not a performance memorised to keep me next to him. It was real, a disease that had burrowed deep into his bones. I understood it clearly then, watching Mr. Donald’s limbs come apart.
“Oh.” Kenzo hesitated, his disappointment obvious in his ocean eyes. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, my tone wistful. Then my gaze suddenly lifted, spine straightening at the sound of screeching tyres.
The familiar black car turned into the parking lot, and even with the tinted glasses, I still saw the shadow watching me. My heart began to pound, pulse erratic, my hands suddenly clammy.
“I have to go.”
“Come on, Beth,” Kenzo insisted, his voice nearly persuasive. “I don’t want to be the only one there.” Panic detonated inside me as his skin suddenly burned into mine. My eyes flickered sharply to where his slender fingers wrapped around my wrist all of a sudden, halting me.
Zaghan had cut off a man’s arm for touching me. He said, swore that no other man was allowed to lay a hand on what belonged to him…me.
I yanked my hand from Kenzo’s grip like he burnt me. “Stop.” My voice came out sharp, cracked.
Kenzo stared at me, hurt flashing in his eyes. “What exactly is going on, Beth? Why are you acting strange?”
The passenger door of the black car suddenly swung open, and a soldier stepped out, cavorting a few steps before pulling the back door open…for me.
It was a silent call. One I couldn’t refuse.
“Beth,” Kenzo called after me, desperate, voice cracking, but my feet were already leading me far away.
“Beth!” he called again, but I didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. I didn’t want to hesitate, didn’t want to make it obvious that Kenzo wasn’t in support of this, of me leaving with Zaghan, or being with him in general.
“Beth!” The call was muffled, the echo muted the moment I slid into the car, the door shutting behind me, sealing me inside.
I didn’t dare look through the window, couldn’t see the broken look on my best friend’s face.
Kenzo used to be my human diary, one I told every little secret. But now he didn’t know me anymore, because I was becoming a different person, someone even I didn’t recognise these days.
Zaghan was sitting there, cloaked by darkness that followed him like a shadow, waiting, a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite tell.
“Hi,” I whispered. The word was an ache, heavy on my tongue.
His next action was automatic; his hand lifted, resting on my thigh. It settled there with such possessive ease as if it belonged to him by some cruel predestination.
I hated that I didn’t push it away, hated that deep down, I wanted it to be there. Because if I didn’t hate it, then it meant the rebellion I feigned was just an illusion to convince myself I wasn’t broken, that I wasn’t craving something dark and morally corrupt.
“I’m not going to do anything to him, you know,” he murmured, rubbing my inner thigh slowly with his thumb. “I mean, he is basically going to be my brother-in-law.”
My body went rigid. The mere thought of a future tied to him, this version was unbearable, suffocating.
I wasn’t sure anymore if Callan was ever coming back.
My hope thinned every time this face showed up in front of me and it wasn’t him instead.
If he was really gone, I didn’t want to be here.
I didn’t want a future with this monster.
Seeing the flicker of defiance in my expression, perhaps, he let out a low, sinister chuckle. “You think I can’t marry you?”
Please, don’t.
My heart stuttered. Why was he suddenly talking about marriage? I thought his only desire was to kill me off but decided to just use my body to pass time until he was ready?
“I thought so too. But if I’m going keep you until this my fixation on you wears off, I might as well follow tradition.
” His voice was dangerously low, darkness laced into the words.
“I’m going to marry you, Beth Fraser. And I don’t care what anyone has to say about that.
Not even you.” He leaned over, brushing his finger on my jaw. “Or your little friend.”
His tone dropped in warning at the reference to Kenzo, and my pulse spiked. I tried everything not to put Kenzo in the spotlight, not for any reason. But somehow, his name had wiggled into the web.