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What is he doing and with who?
With my hood over my head, I make my way to the building, creeping along the side until I get to the first glass window. Peeking inside, I don’t see anybody, but there’s a faint glow toward the back.
I have a key, I could unlock the door and walk in and see exactly what’s happening. I also have a knife. I could get rid of the problem immediately. Quin tells me I’m too impulsive, but with him, I have learned to think a little more rationally. I can’t put us at risk and force us to move again. Alaska is supposed to be the end game. We fled our small town in Vermont, leaving behind several bodies, and came here because of what it had to offer. Out here, we’ve been able to do what we want. We have limited neighbors, lots of land, and nearby water sources to dispose of bodies. I can’t ruin this for us, but he can’t either.
The light goes out, and voices trickle through the air as they emerge through the back door. I stay where I am, knowing I’m undetectable right now, but needing to hear the conversation.
Quin laughs. Who’s making him have a deep, full laugh like that?
“Oh man, I can’t believe that,” another man says.
“I’m serious,” Quin replies, and I can tell he’s smiling just by the sound of his voice. I step closer to the back of the building.
“Nah, you’re full of shit,” the other guy says with a chuckle. They seem to be friends.
“Believe what you want,” Quin states, and because I know him so well, I know he shrugged when he said it. “You should come over some time. I’ll prove it to you.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, white vapor billowing from my lips when they part in shock. He invited this man to our house? I’ve never even heard him talk about anybody from work, and Quin doesn’t make friends. He does a good job playing the part, but he doesn’t go out of his way to invite people in.
Pure, red hot anger bubbles inside me. I can’t focus on anything as I envision what I want to do to this faceless man right now. I could follow him home and slit his throat. I’d like to see him try to laugh as the blood spurts from his wound.
The closing of a car door is what snaps me from my daydream.
“So, tomorrow?” my next victim asks.
“Not tomorrow. Let me figure a few things out, but maybe Wednesday.”
“Okay, well, you have my number.”
“I do,” Quin says. “See ya later.”
Another door shuts and I make my way to the front of the building, hiding out of sight until they drive off. I know Quin won’t leave the way I came in. He takes another route, so he won’t see my car.
I won’t beat him home, but I don’t want to. I need time to calm down and think. Quin’s always been so methodical. He’s not reactionary like me. I need to get my anger out before I see him so he doesn’t suspect I know anything. Fuck the surprise I was going to give him. I have my own plans to work out.
2
QUINTIN
Kaspian isn’t home when I pull up, so as soon as I get inside, I head for the bathroom to shower and get into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before I begin dinner.
After throwing some rice in the cooker, I slice up the salmon and start cooking it in the skillet. I’m probably the better cook between the two of us, so most of the dinners are my responsibility. Though Kas always makes breakfast for me. On weekends, he’ll try to serve it to me in bed, where I promptly give him a look before sitting up and taking it to the living room where we can both eat.
He likes to do more of the traditionally romantic things, but they make me uncomfortable. I don’t want to be catered to in bed. In bed, I want to ravage him. I want to fuck him hard, cut him deep, and see the blood soak the sheets while his cum shoots from his cock. I need the violence, not romance.
We constantly have reminders that while we’re both very similar, we have stark contrasts. He sometimes wants more from me than I give. Kaspian is a stalker at heart. A hunter, as he likes to call it. He enjoys the energy you have to put forth to follow someone and find out everything there is to know about them. He enjoys violence too, but on a different level. I’m not sure he needs it as much as I do.
Where I used to believe there was a monster inside me, I now realize there’s the facade of a decent person inside me instead. I am a monster, and I let out the normal person when I need to. The real me needs to kill.
I tried being good. I had a good run of it back in Vermont, but then I met Kaspian. He allowed me to be myself, but I haven’t been able to lately. He likes the roles we have, but there’s something missing. You can’t say that to someone like Kas though. He’s too volatile. He wouldn’t understand what I was trying to say.
The door slams closed.
“Hey,” I say, watching him from the kitchen.
The cabin is small. The front door opens between the living room and kitchen which aren’t separated by anything but a couch. Our bedroom is right behind a single armchair and end table, hidden behind sliding barn doors.
“Hey. Salmon again?” he asks, a bite in his tone.
