I sucked in a breath of smoke-filled air and rushed out. Sunlight engulfed me, momentarily paralyzing my legs.
The cabin burned at my back.
If J was watching nearby, I didn’t want him to see me.
I started running straight.
My eyes stung, my lungs burned, and my body threatened to expel vomit from my empty stomach, but I still didn’t stop.
I found a dirt road and followed it, wheezing in and out, feet bloody. I stopped when through a gap up ahead in a cluster of trees, I saw the back of the Metric gas station.
–Chapter Twenty-One–
Harper
-Present-
They had a beautiful home.
I could admit that.
Sitting outside of it, parked a few houses down, I browsed on my cell phone.
Jayce Charles Haywood owned a real estate company, had zero kids, and still looked the exact same way he had two and a half years ago.
Lucky him.
Seeing him in photographs didn’t move me in any way. His face was a constant image on display in my head.
I didn’t care to know any personal details about him; I just needed to know who he was.
Reaching across my seats, I popped open the glove box and removed my little black handgun and my bright purple riding gloves.
The lights inside his house had gone out thirty minutes ago. All except one.
Watching my surroundings, I got out of my Jeep and quickly darted across the street. His house looked even bigger up close.
I didn’t bother with the front, or the back door. I walked right into the open garage and tried that one.
It swung right open, taking me back to when he’d told me that my house needed a security system.
It seemed Jayce didn’t practice what he preached.
I stepped into a family room and shut the door behind me, hearing the sound of running water upstairs.
Bypassing an all white sofa, I paused and studied a large self-portrait hanging above a massive fireplace.
The woman in the painting could have been one of my late relatives. Our resemblance was eerie.
I shuddered and left the room, looking for the kitchen. It wasn’t hard, given that it was almost the size of my whole cottage.
This room was white, too.
I hated it.
The cleanliness of the home was almost offensive. How could he live so luxuriously, yet fuck in such squalor?
I tucked my gun in the pocket of my cow pajamas before going over to a knife block, pulling each one out and examining the blades carefully before making a choice.
There was never a moment where I wondered if what I was about to do was right or wrong.
I wasn’t afraid of being caught. After all, this would be doing society a huge favor.
I walked up the stairs, careful where I placed each slipper so I didn’t hit a creaky floorboard.
Light from the bathroom poured out into the hall. I approached the open door and peered inside.
The soaking tub faced the opposite direction, giving me a view of Minnie’s back.
She had a glass of red wine on the ledge, head leaned back and eyes closed. Poor thing looked a little stressed.
It was her own fault.
There was nothing she could say that would make her silence okay.
She wasn’t quiet because she was terrified; she was quiet because she didn’t give a fuck.
I ensured my purple gloves were on tight, and strolled forward. Not experienced with stabbing people, I did what all the Google articles had said.
I crouched down and cupped a hand over Minnie’s mouth; apparently, this helped with air flow or something.
Her hazel eyes flew open, and she immediately began to struggle. The wine glass hit the floor, shattering into pieces. Sudsy water splashed out of the tub as I pinned her in place.
I couldn’t remember how or where to stab someone. The adrenaline rushing through my veins had my hands slightly shaking and my thought process soley focused on ending this.
I jabbed her in the side of the neck first, fascinated by how easily the blade sliced clean through her flesh.
She cried out behind my gloved hand.
I stuck her again, a little lower, and then once in her chest beside her silicone tit before letting go.
Blood turned the water red, staining the porcelain tub. She croaked a little, like a frog, and her body twitched a few times before going completely still.
It was anti-climatic.
I’d expected more blood.
After tossing the dirty steak knife into the tub, I grabbed her cell phone off the vanity.
Careful that no sign of me could be seen in a mirror, I snapped a picture of her partially submerged body with a sunny day filter, and sent it to her only contact saved under Jayce.
I looked at her closely, wondering how she’d ended up with him in the first place. She wasn’t anything like the girls he seemed to have a penchant for.
Oh, well. Now, they could burn in hell together.
I tossed her phone in the water and made a quick exit.