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“Don’t act like you are so innocent! It is the same woman who comes in and out of your apartment! That blonde-haired beauty!”
“She’s a friend!”
“Ha!” he huffs out. “Friends suck the face off the other?” Allison steps back in shock. “Stunned doesn’t look good on you. You need to be more discrete! The doorman saw you sucking that woman’s face in the elevator. I pay for that goddamn apartment. Think I wouldn’t know? Need a vagina to get you off.”
A snide smile comes over Allison’s face. These earthshaking confessions are long overdue. Cracks in the foundation are only the start of this imploding enterprise. Hope they have good insurance.
“Jessica is more of a lover than you have ever been!”
My blood runs cold. That bitch! I am biting my lip so hard I can feel the blood rushing to the surface of my flesh, ready to burst. Jessica is trying to inch her way into my life.
Turning the camera off, I’ve got more than I need. I push away from the house and make my way off the property to a run-down truck I stole this morning. Fit the struggling landscaper persona I was going for, but all I want to do is blow the fucking thing up. And that idea is one I intend to fulfill. I slam my fist on the wheel before I take off to a remote train crossing, where I park the vehicle in the middle of the tracks. Exiting the truck, I slam the door harder than I should, but it won’t matter. The more I think about this newfound information, the angrier I get. I end up slamming my foot against the side of the truck, leaving a few dents. Grabbing a small can of gasoline from the bed of the truck, I place it on the floorboard so when the train hits it and fire sparks… boom motherfucker.
The fact she is in bed with both of the DuPonts, it’s sickening to think of how far she will go. My watch sings with an alarm notification. The train should be here in the next few minutes. I run up the hill to just beyond the tree line and sit waiting. I hear the horn blare from the train, giving a warning. Another horn sounds off and I smile. The train conductor does his best to stop, but a train of that size doesn’t stop on a dime. It can take a mile or more before it stops properly and this is an emergency brake situation.
I refuse to blink so I do not miss a moment of this damage. The train crashes into the truck, and less than a minute later, it is engulfed in fire. The clashing of the metal, the smell of the brakes burning trying to stop, the sight of the crumbled mess in front of me. Then I close my eyes and wait for the sound. The explosion rings in the air and its sweet music.
I look at the burning truck down the tracks and smile.
Oh, the options on how to kill her.
Tick goes the countdown on your clock. I can feel my nerves burn in excitement at your impending death.
How do you want to go down, Jessica? Quick and painless or long and torturous?
You decide!
CHAPTER 16
DARK CORNERS
Kevin Grafton
This is not the life I have ever envisioned for myself. My dad was a truck driver and my mom chased the promise of a better life. They were not terrible parents, just absent parents. I vowed to take care of my little sister the first time she got hurt. I remember so vividly when she burned her palm on the stove. She tried to be brave and not cry. We walked to the store down the street, where I stole some burn cream off the shelf. She distracted the cashier by accidentally bumping her head on the counter. She didn’t mean to hit her head but ended up getting a slight bump. I still wonder how she became so successful. As soon as I was out the door with the cream, she soon followed. Walking home, she still kept her tears locked away as we sat on the living room floor. I applied the cream to her palm so tenderly so she wouldn’t flinch. Every now and then I could see her eyes squint.
“It’s okay to cry,” I’d say to her.
“This isn’t something to cry over,” she would respond.
We learned early on that crying did not bring us the ending that we wanted. We relied on each other for many years, and the day I signed up for the military was one of the proudest days of my life. Boot camp was torture. Being gone for weeks was the first time we were both alone. She stayed back at the shitty apartment while I sat in the barracks waiting for a letter, a call, anything from her to make sure she was okay.
At my graduation, when she sought me out, I’d never hugged her harder. The first step for us making it out of nothing. When they stationed me at a base in the US, I made sure she was there. I took guardianship of her immediately. We were reunited and relieved. She started college about the same time I was finishing training and was set to be deployed. I remember standing at her dorm and looking up at the massive structure.
“I’ll be okay. You taught me well,” she assured me.
“I know. Habit,” I admitted, shrugging my shoulders.
She hugged my waist, and like a proud parent, I could’ve cried. I could see it in her eyes too, but again, that wasn’t something to cry over.
For several years we kept in touch by letters, calls, Skype, anything to hold on to that connection. I spent every leave on her dorm floor. She didn’t skip a single class, but all her free time was Grafton time. I helped her with homework, with research, restocking her snack drawer with all the brain food I could find as she sat on her bed, stuffing her face with pizza.
“I’m proud of you. You know that, right?” I’d reassure her.
“Don’t be weird,” she stated. “You have all your stuff sorted?”
I still laugh at her abrasiveness. Can’t teach that in life. “Just finishing getting it all sorted out.”
“Are you? Are you all sorted?” she would ask, not just about my things but about my mind. I kept a lot to myself all those years so she wouldn’t have to deal with anything other than being the greatest human to live. She had these big green eyes that held such hope. I didn’t want reality to hinder that dream.
