“You tried to sell me!” she says with a strained voice.
“More like...loan you.” I’m trying to rationalize with myself as much as her. What I did was fucked, yes, but sometimes there’s no changing who you are, even in the face of something so different from what has molded you.
Her skin is hot, heated by anger and...something else. It courses through her veins. She inhales sharply, looking up at me with an emotion I’ve never seen from a person.
It’s the look of someone who has just cracked.
“Kill me.” Her voice comes out small and weak, but somehow still sure.
I raise my eyebrow, but I doubt she can see it in the darkness. “What?”
She lets another warm breath wash over me. “I said...kill me.” Her voice wavers this time.
I lower my hand from her throat and rest it on her clavicle. She’s taken the fun out of preying on her. Her fear has mutated into surrender in front of my eyes, an overwhelming feeling of brokenness that washes over us both. It’s contagious. And I can’t say that I’ve ever felt such sadness, even as I was beaten half to death as a child or when I knew my life was over as I stood before a judge. This feeling is foreign and uncomfortable, and I can’t imagine living in that eternal state like she must. I understand why she wants to die.
If she dies, that emptiness dies with her.
“Is that really what you want, bunny?” I ask, letting my free hand move her sweaty, dark hair from her cheek.
“I’m as good as dead either way. I don’t want to play this game anymore. Take the car. Do whatever. Just...I can’t...do this.” Her world is collapsing around her, crushing her. And it’s all my fault. Well, not totally my fault. Clearly, her husband is a fucking cunt. He broke her before I took her, but I created the final crack that split her wide open.
I lean into her, putting my forehead against hers as I drop my hand from her chest. “Get in the car, little rabbit,” I whisper. “The backseat.”
She hesitates before she grips the handle and crawls into the backseat. I scoot her over and sit beside her. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I ask as I lean into her and rest my hand on the curve of her neck. She has such a fragile throat. I hardly noticed that before tonight, and suddenly it’s all I can think about. How she’s like glass in my grasp. But if she really wants this, she picked the right person to ask. I’m the only one who can do it without thinking twice. Without losing sleep. It is and always has been too easy for me to take a life.
The dome light cuts off, blanketing us in darkness, and I feel the warmth of a tear trail over my hand. Except for some soft sniffles, it’s sickeningly silent. She nods her head, and I feel the motion within my grasp. She seems so certain, leaving me to think about it. My muscles twitch, and I yearn to give her the release she wants.
I lean in and whisper, “If it’s what you want, I’ll do it for you.” My voice wavers, which is uncharacteristic of me. I feel doubt in my gut, some nagging discomfort I’ve never felt with any murder I’ve committed. And itismurder, even if she wants to die.
My hands ride higher to grip both sides of her head. She relaxes into my touch, as if I’m giving her a gift. To her it is. To me, it feels like a burden I don’t want to bear. But I will.
I take a deep breath.
It’s what she wants. It’s for her. It’s all for her.
* * *
Selena
I feelthe heat of his hands on either side of my head, but his touch doesn’t burn me like it should. I don’t dare take a breath as I wait for the sharp twitch of his muscles before nothingness. It isn’t that Iwantto die, but I’m just so fucking done. So tired from it all. Brycewillkill me when I get home. He’ll end me in the worst, most painful way he can muster in his sadistic mind. It seems better this way.
As crazy as it sounds, it feels safer.
With closed eyes, I bathe in the blackness behind my eyelids. I need to sleep. I need to rest. And I’ll never get that from the life I have, even before Lex took me. There’s only one ending for me. There has always only been one way it could end, and it’s this way: death at the hands of a man. I’m just choosing whose hands it will be.
His hands fall from my face, and he leans in to kiss me. I draw away from him, catching his breath on my inhale. He tastes like sin.
“Lex,” I whisper as I push at his chest.
“If you still want to die after I fuck you, I’ll do it for you.” His voice is low and desperate. “Let me inside you, rabbit.”
How much lower can I go? Past the six feet under I hoped for? Sleeping with him will send me on a free fall to hell, but does it really matter at this point? How important is the sanctity of a marriage that leaves me covered in bruises?
I drop my shoulders as he leans in again. The moon peeks through the windshield, offering mere glimpses of weak light. He won’t be able to see my marks. He can’t pity me. I can pretend to be an unmarked woman for once in my life. I can pretend I’m a normal twenty-two-year-old. I might even find a few moments of happiness.
His lips meet mine again, and I accept his kiss. I spread my mouth to let him inside. His chest rises heavily as he leans over me, pushing me against the door as he crawls between my legs. His hand wraps around my neck and rises to grip my hair. He tugs my shirt off, letting a heavy hand slip over the swells of my bare breasts. I fight the flinch of pain as his touch runs over the bruises near my waistband. I’d never let him do this if he could see me. I don’t want anyone to see just how damaged I am. He tugs down my pants with the hunger of an animal at the end of its leash, and it’s about to break.
I hear his zipper fall.