29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter twenty-nine
Jackson
There comes a time when I just have to cut my losses and fucking run. Run into the abyss. The darkness. Into the grey matter of my brain and wipe away everything I've ever wanted.
That's what I feel like doing, especially when I'm on the verge of losing control. Madelyn is dragging me close to the edge, and to say that I'm pissed at myself as an understatement.
Once Gateley took his leave, I was free to do something I hadn't done in years. My fingers slide across the wall in long strokes as I work on creating Madelyn’s long hair. Painting... especially with the blood of a fresh kill is, for the lack of a better word... gratifying.
In this case, it is a small constellation for not being actively involved in these kills.
To use what's left of them to create my own masterpiece is satisfying.
People, by nature, are hard to find a meaning for.
Most go through life with no meaning at all.
Or just move through life impeding those that have plans.
Those like me who would do anything to get justice.
Yet not only do I have to worry about my brother, I also have to worry about the pain in the asses that want to report me back to jail.
Or simply won't move out of my way. I stop my current stroke and progress to smile down at that guard’s corpse.
Since I broke his neck, he had no open wound to speak of.
But no matter. The knife Gateley handed over provided me with a way to make one myself.
His blood pools out of the wound on his upper thigh.
The blade sliced the skin effortlessly, allowing me to create a bowl shape out of his leg muscle.
My dab my finger in it to refresh the coloring on Madelyn’s face.
I barely know anything about this girl, and yet here I am letting her take up residence in my mind.
What's worse is that Gateley is right. I do feel this slight tug on my black heart that I can only assume is guilt. It tries to sway me into letting her go, even though I have nothing to gain out of it if I do.
I move on from her hair to her face, adding the details of her eyes, nose, and mouth.
Using two fingers, I place more blood on my fingertips and add two layers of color to the outline of her lips.
Lips that I haven't kissed yet. Because if I do, I know it's all over.
She will sink me. Drag me down so that I not only want her mouth around my cock, but her lips connected to mine. And only mine for eternity.
I shake my head at the audacity of my own thoughts. Love found me once. Love once came in the form of a family, but he took it away. Murdered, and still my brother won't let them rest. The image of their bodies being placed on that shrine floods the only sensible part of my brain.
My hands turn into fists at the same time heat rushes to my face. Why did I let myself be persuaded so easily when my parents are back out of the ground?
What I am doing cannot happen. Madelyn cannot be free.
She will either be killed or turn on me. It’s not an idea I prefer. Or even like. But when given the option between revenge or love, revenge is the only thing that's ever been my end goal. It can't be fucked up now. Not even for her.