Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I should’ve just rubbed one out in my tub, but I didn’t. Instead, I found myself driving back to the parish where I grew up. Back to the house where I killed a man. Or at least I thought I did. This land is cursed. It has to be. Sometimes when I’d come out here, I’d talk to Red. After all, he died not fifty yards from where I’m standing.
He doesn’t talk back, though. I can’t say I feel him, either. I must not be spiritual enough, or maybe he simply isn’t here. Maybe he’s in a better place. But I know that thought is a lie the second I have it.
I duck under a branch and push away those memories. The screams. The fire. The blood. They’re part of me now, the reason I’m a charred soul inside a young woman’s body. Burned and blistered, the wounds still raw.
Lucius’s house is dark, the angular corners overcoming the night with shadows of their own. The wind sighs through the trees overhead, a breeze that gives little respite from the heat. I’m not wearing a mask this time. He already knows who I am. Still, it’s not like I’m going to knock on his door and announce myself, so I’m wearing black from head to toe. Besides, the long sleeves and pants keep the mosquitoes at bay.
Minutes tick by as I simply wait. For what? I’m not sure. Maybe for Red. Maybe for Lucius. Maybe for some semblance of sense that will send me back to my car and to my apartment in New Orleans.
“Are you here, Red?” I whisper to the dark. “I miss you.”
The silence doesn’t respond. Not a falling star or a whistling wind. Just silence and stillness. I wait for long moments. Time passes slowly and fails to change the fact that I’m alone, and I’ll always be alone.
Yes, this land is cursed. Just like my family name. I can’t escape who I am, but I can stop coming here, stop looking for a ghost or the devil who killed him.
I turn to leave and stop. My heart sinks low into my gut, and acid rises in my throat. I almost let out a scream, but I manage to swallow it down.
“Do you just stand out here and stare?” Lucius has his arms crossed over his chest as he leans casually against a pine tree. “Seems sort of strange, right? Are you a peeping Tammy?”
“How long have you been there?” I pat my pocket, the gun giving me at least a sliver of comfort.
He follows the movement, then smirks. “Going to shoot me again?”
“Maybe.” I try to calm my breathing, try to make myself relax and focus.
“Didn’t work the first time. What makes you think you can take me out now?”
“This time I’ll shoot you in the face.”
“You can’t mean that. This face? This undeniably handsome face?” He tsks.
“What do you want?”
“That’s a funny question coming from someone trespassing on my property.”
“I’m not here for you.”
“Lie.” He steps forward, still far enough away for me to feel almost safe, almost as if I could get away.
I hate him so much. I can’t even visit my brother’s final resting place without Lucius stomping in like Godzilla. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said yet.” He moves closer.
“Why did you buy the Oakman property? To gloat?”
“Something like that.” Another step nearer to me. “To piss on their ashes. To celebrate their deaths.”
“My parents were in that fire.” I grit my teeth. “My whole family is dead because of yours.”
“Is that what you tell yourself? That I’m the villain?” He cocks his head to the side. “That the Witheringtons were innocent bystanders? You think Red was—”
“Don’t say his name!” The words burst out of me with explosive anger. I think it surprises me more than Lucius. That deep, unending well of hurt inside me yawns like the grave, open and oozing, poisoning my whole life. And Lucius is the reason it’s there at all.
“You mean Red?” His smirk grows as he moves nearer. Like a shark scenting blood or a fighter pounding away at the one weak spot in his opponent, Lucius comes for me. “Red was a murderer. He killed and raped and hurt everyone he could, and you know it.”
“Shut up.”
“No.” He’s finally in front of me, close enough to touch.
I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They’re vicious, intense, the kind of eyes a foolish young girl could easily get lost in. But I’m not her anymore.
“Red was a menace, and I did you a favor by putting him d—”
My fist moves of its own accord. When it meets his jaw, he barely moves from the impact. My knuckles ricochet with pain up my arm as he moves so quickly, his touch light and then firm as he whips me around and wrenches my arm behind me. His other hand goes to my neck, his grip possessive, hot.