Page 41 of Signed in Blood

“Oh, I know,” I finally say as I realize what I should do with the mangled mess in my hand.

I imagine the asphalt melting around him until he’s sinking into it. It molds around him like quicksand until he’s buried enough that his chest is covered. Although his calves and forearms are exposed, he can’t move.

And then I stop it, leaving him there.

I stride over to him as if it’s nothing at all.

“Now open up,” I command with my pointer nail. I shove his appendage into his mouth. And then I envision his tongue wrapping around it and swallowing his dick and his tongue whole.

I’ve never seen someone choke before.

I’ve never seen their eyes bulge and go bloodshot.

His throat expands and he attempts to cough it all back up, to throw it all back up, but I seal his lips once again.

I’m not sure what exactly is the cause of death. Choking on his own vomit, his dick, or his tongue.

But after a moment of struggling, he finally succumbs to death.

I open the asphalt back up, letting it swallow him whole but not without a promise to see him in hell.

As my racing heart settles. I take a look around the abandoned car lot and whisper my gratitude to the crows above.

Snow falls on my face and then my hand, and I see all the evidence of his slaughter. I stare down at my stained jeans and with my hand, I let the magic pull each drop of his blood from my body, cleansing my hands and clothes, and then flick it off.

The act seems to drain me, making legs weak and my eyes heavy.

But at least if someone sees me, they won’t know I just murdered this bastard. I start walking, trying to figure out how to get to Ted’s. On the way there, I realize I’m more worn out than I thought. And Murphy won’t be there until tomorrow…

That knowledge stops me in my tracks and I take a look down the left side and then the right side of the street.

I think I know where I am. I’m close…close to where Sabrina might be sleeping.

Just the thought of her name gives me a little more life than I had just a moment ago. Weaving through a small crowd of drunk college kids, I make my way toward the dorms. It’s a long fucking walk, but I think of her the entire way because I know a place right across from our room.

There’s a seating area on the roof of the bar. It’s cute in the summer, with its lights on the umbrellas. It doesn’t take long to get there and I climb up the iron staircase on the outside of the building to the roof.

There’s a bench like I remembered and a firepit near that’s easy enough to light. For a moment, I warm my hands and stare across the night sky at the lit window. I can’t see beyond the curtain, but she’s there.

Slowly, I drop myself down to the floor, but my eyes stay on the window.

The light is on, so she must be awake.

Without my approval, my eyes turn glassy with tears.

I take in a shuttering breath and lean against the bench, still looking toward the window.

I remember a year ago we were both here. Well a year-and-a-half, it must have been. Because it was summer and we’d just moved into the dorms.

I close my eyes and remember her laughter.

Tears flow freely at the memory.

I won’t go to her, obviously. I won’t break the rule. But oh my God, do I want to. I want to know if she’s okay and I want to tell her I’m alright. Even if I’m not the girl she knew me as.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and wonder if I should call for him. If it will be too tempting to be so close to her. I convince myself I’m just exhausted and I want to shut my eyes for a few minutes.

Just then, as if she knows I’m here, the curtains open. And there she is.