Chapter Nine
Yesterday was diabolical. A desecration filthier than sin itself.
We fucked like we were possessed on top of Patrick’s deceased body, whose flesh, despite the coldness, was still supple.
We fucked between his slimy organs that were sprawled across the concrete floor.
After, we showered and Jasper made sure I knew once more who I belonged to, making me cry out his name like a desperate prayer.
For our little excursion outside, we put on warm clothes as the weather is getting colder.
Jasper hauls the body along and when we arrive at the spot, he strings him like a demonic-looking scarecrow against the trunk of a large chestnut tree.
The tree trunk stands half-stripped, gnawed by deer and other creatures, a sign that prey wanders thick through these woods.
This means, in turn, that predators also prowl close by—an ideal place to hang him—where the hungry and the hunted are never far apart.
Bugs collect almost instantly, with fat flies buzzing and landing, eagerly spreading their eggs, while maggots already crawl out of his body from the earlier exposure. I capture the ghastly sight in morbid fascination.
Sitting on the couch, snuggling against Jasper, I sift through my shots, reliving the days prior.
Jasper is curing, drying, and rendering the muscle cords supple so he can use them to create his keepsake.
This morning, he showed me. Small braids of dried-up ribbons, all similar in length.
Strands of hair accompanied some. The wooden cabinet holding the skulls in our bedroom has a double layer that is not visible from the outside.
That’s where he keeps his prized possessions—the desecrated relics of his victim’s passing, steeped in violence and admiration.
All of them are stacked atop each other. I don’t dare to count them.
The sound of wheels rolling on gravel makes me sit up straight, and with wide eyes, I glance at Jasper.
Fear runs through me, afraid that someone will step into the space we cleaned yesterday, the stench of bleach still lingering if you enter.
He grabs my chin and presses his lips to mine. His touch eases my nerves a little.
“It’s just Marvin, Starling. Relax. I asked him to pick up something from town. A surprise. No one will ever come here and hurt you, or take you from me. I’ll kill them before they even have the chance to try.”
He grins at me and gets up, casually walking toward the front door.
His words still linger, the threat protective and possessive.
When he opens it, Marvin stands there indeed, a large brown paper bag in one hand, with no brand printed on it, hinting at what might be inside.
Their greeting is quick, just a formality.
Marvin catches my eyes, a flicker of confusion there, then gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
I lift my hand and give him a wave. They exchange a few words, and again, Marvin looks my way, still puzzled.
Jasper takes the bag, and they say their goodbyes.
Ignoring Marvin’s strange behavior, I focus on the bag in Jasper’s hand.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A gift,” he says secretively.
“For me?”
He smirks as he presses the bag into my hands, watching me with excitement, as if he’s even more elated about the gift than I will be.
For a fleeting moment, I hesitate—then reach inside, my fingers brushing against a shape I know by heart.
My throat tightens, and tears sting my eyes before I can stop them.
I draw it out slowly, turning it in my hands and observing every detail of the camera Jasper has given me. It’s an old Polaroid camera.
Carefully, I place it beside me, as though setting down something fragile and alive. Then I surge forward and wrap my arms around him, clinging harder than I mean to.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his skin, the words tumbling out in a breathless litany. “Thank you, thank you.”
His strong arms envelop me, and he kisses the top of my head.
We stay in this embrace for several minutes, savoring the moment and each other’s presence, with not a single worry.
Reluctantly, I pull back; his features are soft, gentle, a side he preserves only for me.
His dark hair frames his handsome face and gives me a small smile.
Unable to ignore the unease Marvin instilled in me earlier, I suck in my lower lip, searching for the words to ask my question without insulting him or insinuating something.
“Starling, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
Before I can respond, he continues. “You are an open book to me, Darling. The way you chew on your lower lip, or suck it in, means something harrows your thoughts. Let me in, make me part of your sorrow so I can take them away.”
He brushes my cheek softly with the back of his index finger, and I lean into the touch.
“Marvin,” I say hesitantly, “he looked at me in confusion… almost as if…” I pause, searching for the words.
Unsure how to convey the emotion his glance gave me, I just blurt it out.
“As if he was surprised I was still here… My presence caught him off guard. Perhaps I’m seeing things, but that was the impression I got. ”
“Maybe he had expected you to abandon me.”
The answer is short, stoic, almost cementing the unease. I narrow my eyes at him. An ominous foreboding begins to stir in the back of my mind. His response came too fast, too dismissive.
“What did you do…?”
It’s not an accusation; it’s a genuine question. A flicker of fear in his eyes as he meets mine.
“I can’t let you leave, Clara. My heart won’t survive the loss of your presence. Please, don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not leaving, Jasper. Why would you say such a thing?”
Dread begins to tighten in my stomach, a knot forming that seems to be impossible to untangle.
Vile whispers enter my mind, with foul tales of death and murder at the hands of Jasper.
Former lovers, dead by his hand. Him unable to contain the terror that houses within him.
I slowly rise to my feet while my mind is piecing the puzzle together, and when he reaches for me, instinctively, I pull away.
I fail to understand how my subconscious felt safe around him; his presence, if anything, soothed me rather than terrified me. I need to hear the words from him.
“He looked at me like that because he couldn’t grasp the reality of me still being alive. Am I right?”
It comes out croaked. I swallow down the bile crawling up my throat, burning my esophagus on its way, leaving its mark. I don’t wait for his response, my mind spinning.
“How many women have you killed here?” I can’t contain the tremble in my voice; the fear strangles me. Realization takes root, sharp and cold.
“You chose me because part of me longs for death. Again, I’m not chosen for me, but because I’m some sort of convenience.” The words come out choked as the pieces align.
My heart feels constricted. It’s not even the killing part that bothers me, even though it should. What hurts is that I believed in our fairytale, that he chose me, for me, but again, I was never a priority. Just a mere convenience for someone else’s needs. And it hurts. It fucking hurts.
“Clara, please, let me explain. It’s not like that! You are my priority, you’ve always been. From the moment you said ‘hello’, I was bound to you. Don’t you understand you are my weakness? I’ve sat with you through your darkness, because I saw the simmering of your light.”
His words end in a whimper, like an animal that suffers in pain. His voice hooks into my ribs and pulls me in. I ignore the dull ache that slowly spreads into my heart, the seams fracturing, because I am desperate for him to stitch them back together.
I cross my arms and lean away from him, out of his reach, even though it hurts me. I can feel my very being clawing for him, starved and feral to be near him.
“Speak.”
That's all I can get out.
He lets out a deep breath. “You are right… I have killed women before…”
I pin him in place with my stare, his admittance strangely not triggering me to run.
“But it’s not what you think, Starling. Please.
None of them compares to you. Marvin, he delivered them to me like offerings, no matter how I begged him not to.
… I-I tried to feel something for the women he brought me, anything, but there was nothing.
No connection. No spark. He only relented when I told him I’d found you.
Please…” his voice falters, “you have to believe me.”
My eyes trace him, slow and unblinking.
I know it is the foolishness in me, naivety clinging to my bones like a second skin—but the ache in my chest is unbearable.
I will not survive the heartbreak that comes with leaving him.
I long for him with a certainty that frightens me.
Whatever binds us defies reason, yet I know, in some unnamable way, that he is telling the truth.
I believe him—not with my mind, but with something deeper, something more profound.
As if our souls' entanglement makes it impossible for him to lie to me.
Drawn by that certainty, I move toward him slowly. I settle onto his lap, close enough to feel his warmth, to feel the pull of what I cannot explain and no longer wish to resist. My heart yearns for him, his touch. I’m his, because he asked.
I fold my hands behind his neck and braid my fingers, shackling him to me.
“Jasper… tell me how you did it,” I whisper. “Tell me how you took their breath away.”
He fixes his gaze on me and splays his hand on my chest, over my pounding heart, which still beats because of him.
“There’s not much to tell, Darling. Their presence awakened my demon.
The one you witnessed firsthand. Their attempts to touch me lured it out.
The mere idea of their flesh touching mine, made me go berserk.
I was unable to control it, but I took no pleasure in it.
I tried to make them quick deaths, but I had moments were I was unable to confine myself, and I resorted to torture. In the end, I slit their throats.”
Strangely, the knowledge that most of their deaths were swift soothes something uneasy inside me.
Even with the torture, there was no passion in it—no lingering touch, no indulgence.
Just an end. I realize now that I needed to know, driven by the ugly jealousy coiling in my chest, sharp and uninvited.
I am ashamed of the desires that betray me, of how deeply they reach and how little I can deny them.
“My need to be with you is both a torment and my lifeline. Even now, after you confessed that every woman brought into this house found death, I trust that our souls speak the same language. But if your monster can no longer be contained; just know, I’d allow you to give me my eternity,” I tell him, unable to cloak my vulnerability.
His eyes fill with sorrow. “Clara, Starling, when will you understand that it is your presence that keeps it confined. The only violence you’ll ever experience from me is my devotion.”
I let out a deep sigh, the turmoil of emotions settling slowly.
“Perhaps tell Marvin I’m bound to stay, that I’m not going anywhere, because the way he stared at me, made my skin crawl.”
Jasper opens his mouth, but I silence him by placing my index finger on his lips. “No, Jasper, you’re not going to kill him. A brief conversation should be sufficient.”
A smirk spreads across his face, and he cups my face, his lips finding mine.
With my tongue, I slide across the roof of his mouth, tasting him, and I wonder where my sanity went.
I smile against his lips, because I know damn well, I buried it the moment I met him.
And by accepting his truth, I do the same with the whispers of despair and loneliness that managed to climb back in.
Being back in his embrace silences them.
I’m no longer ready for death, unless it’s by his hands. With him, I want to live. With him by my side, I am no longer lonely or alone.
His strong hand wraps firmly around the back of my neck, pinning me in my place, and the sensation of his wild kisses overthrows any remaining thought that still lingered, from our short conversation. There’s no path of return as I surrender to him, which seems to be my permanent state.
It’s a paralysis I welcome.