even trust myself anymore most days because I never thought I would do something like this.
Manipulation has always been in Bea’s bag of tricks, but not mine.
A genuine smile—something I haven’t felt in years—appears on my lips. Just the thought of seeing Bea again after so long has me feeling so much better.
I know that Lakyn will bring her back since he promised to, and the thing about him is that he never breaks a pact once he seals it.
I wonder if she’ll look the same. I don’t think age will have done a goddamn thing to Bea, and if it tried, she probably gutted it and watched it gurgle.
I begin to whistle as I drag the garbage bag full of the girl—uh, Willa I think her name was—toward the back of the house. I feel bad that she became a casualty in Lakyn’s little war, but she’s blonde. And while manipulating people may be Bea’s thing, annihilating blondes—or having someone else do it so he can mentally get off—is Lakyn’s.
I should have told Aftyn to come alone, I think as the smile falters on my lips. I always feel bad when someone dies because of Lakyn, but… I don’t know. I guess I feel worse since I’ve survived this long and, to my knowledge, no one else has.
Bumping the door with my back a few times gets it to open as I drag the bag inside.
Well, that’s not entirely true. At least a few others have survived—there was the entire Vegas debacle. God knows where that big guy is these days, though I imagine that if Lakyn ever bumped into him again, it would more than likely end with one of them dead.
Hm.
I groan as I roll my eyes and let the bag go.
I feel bad for even thinking it would be okay to try to find the man and tell him to show up.
Lakyn may be older, but he hasn’t slowed down in the least, and that means the only one who would die would be the surprise guest.
Kind of like you, I think as I open the bag and start to pull out body parts.
Once I’ve got all of the bits and pieces resting on the bag, I head over to the large, rusty tub that Lakyn keeps in the corner of the room.
Just above it is an array of hatchets. All of them are handcrafted by the devil that takes the greatest delight in using them.
His favorite he never leaves in this room, though.
Always seeing the single empty rung makes me liken him to Dorian Gray.
Almost as if he spent too much time looking at the hatchet, then it might show him who he really was.
Of course, considering it’s Lakyn, he’d probably get off on that too.
Running a hand back through my hair, I step over what’s left of Willa and walk over to the large cabinet where Lakyn likes to keep more of his toys. Once I locate a few gallon bottles of acid, I grab one and make a couple of trips back and forth until I have the three that he expressly told me I would need the first time I did this.
Carefully, I unscrew the cap and begin to fill the tub. When it’s half full, I place the second bottle down and go back toward the bag. I pull it over to the tub and start placing the body parts inside.
As soon as the poor girl is submerged, I empty the second bottle, then the third, before I go sit on Lakyn’s workbench and begin to pick thoughtfully at my fingernails.
Everything will get better when I see Bea again and I can’t wait.
Eight
Running with Scissors
Daphne
I can’t get over the fact that Aftyn has disappointed Lakyn. I can feel the tension from the front of the truck, but it’s more from his side than his dad’s.
God, I love him, I think wistfully as Lakyn clears his throat and continues to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Can you just let me out?” Aftyn suddenly asks. “I don’t want to be in this fucking truck anymore. Not without Willa.”
“Don’t make my hand slip again, kid,” Lakyn replies cheerfully as he continues drumming his fingers to the beat of the song.
“Want me to kill him?” I ask from the backseat. Aftyn turns to glare at me over his shoulder and Lakyn lets out a laugh.
I made him laugh again and that’s all that matters to me, but if he wants more blood, I’d be