Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
My eyeballs bulge, my heart races, and all of my other organs seem to rush into overdrive, even my skeleton locking its joints in an effort to keep me on my feet.
“She knows, Billy,” Nellie spits at me, snarling once more, “your little bitch knows exactly where that body is buried, Billy.”
She looks at me, and I can see in her eyes she’s terrified, but just too angry, too proud, up on her high horse to really let it show. The world would miss it, the fear, the wanting to be comforted but not wanting to say it, but I can feel it. The heat rolling off of her despite her body being cool to the touch, it’s all heat from her head, her hair clinging to the back of her neck with a slick layer of sweat. She’s shaking, and instead of coming to me for comfort like she used to, she’s shoving at my chest, beating me with her hands, and I just let her go for a second. Shoving her away from me causing her to stumble back, her arms whirling around at her sides to keep herself on her feet.
“What do you mean, she knows exactly where the body is buried?” I ask cooly, trying not to think about her lies, her fucking betrayal, putting it all aside for just a moment.
“I mean what I said, Billy. Imogen knows where Thomas is buried, and she said if I let the two of you-” she cuts herself off, turning away from me with the back of her hand pressed to her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed momentarily. “If I look the other way,” she says quietly, “you and her,” she takes in a slow shuddery breath, still facing away from me, “then she’ll keep ita secret.” She swallows hard, and I hear it, like she’s swallowing around a pain filled lump lodged there.
“If I want to fuck her,” I reply calmly, “I will. I don’t need you tolook the other way. I’ll fuck her in our bed next to you whilst you sleep if I fucking want to,” I say it so spitefully, yet so simply, that it makes me feel sick.
Penelope looks up at me sharply, her eyes narrowing slightly, tightening at the inner corners, pursing her lips, like she believes me, like she believes whatever bullshit Imogen’s been spewing in her ear.
I would never betray you, Little Lamb.
But you would me.
You already have.
I swallow past it, the pain I wish I didn’t feel, and wipe my hand over my face, look up at the ceiling, another thing that reminds me of her, the carved spiders, and quickly drop my gaze back to her.
“Where’s the body?” I ask her coldly, feeling my heart tearing at the inside of my chest.
“In the Douglas Firs,” she replies softly, eyes glassy as she tries not to look at me, like I’ve reached inside of her and plucked out her soul.
“Where,specifically?” I huff, reaching for a black hoodie on the coat rack, slipping my arms into the sleeves and pulling it over my head, the hood staying on.
“I don’t know,” she replies, this time turning away from me completely, making her way towards the bedroom, showing me her back.
“You don’t know?” I snarl.
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, still walking away, her anger shrinking like it was never even there to begin with, her voice quiet.
I laugh, this loud belting sound of sarcasm that tears through my teeth without thought, “It’s gunna be a long night then, Little Lamb,” I tell her, grabbing another hoodie from the rack and launching it in her direction.
She just manages to snag it out of the air as she turns back to face me, giving me a look of confusion, “What?”
I step right up to her, standing tall, I glance down at her, “You think I’d leave a body just anywhere someone could find it?” I ask her, not giving her time to answer before I’m speaking again. “You think I’d ever let anyone hold something over your head and not do something about it?” She blinks hard, looking down at the clutched black material in her hands. “Yeah,” I say with a short huff of laughter, “because even when you think the worst of me, I still fucking protect you.”
I turn away then, heading back towards the door, pausing just long enough before it for her to make her way over, slipping past me to reach for the handle. Her fingers are dainty on the gold metal, pushing the lever down, pulling it open just an inch, but I reach over her head, placing my palm flat against the door, clicking it back closed.
Nellie looks up at me, her dark brows pinched, a crease in the centre of them, a wrinkle in her forehead. Her lips part to speak, but she stops before she starts, watching my other hand lift. My fingers tracing up the inside of her bicep, over her hoodie, and I dip my face down into hers, breathing her in like she’ll never smell exactly like this again.
My lips touch hers when I speak, her entire body trembling like she already knows I know, “And I might be a liar, Little Lamb,” I say quietly, my eyes flicking between her glassy ones, “but so the fuck are you.”
Chapter 19
BILLY
In the distance, lightning spears the sky, bright flashes of purple follow the low bellowings of thunder. The rain beats down on us, the ground turning to marsh beneath our boots, a river of water rushing towards us as we trek uphill in the dark.
Side by side, we both carry spades, I have the axe, and between us, the backs of our hands almost brush. I want to pass the axe handle into my other hand, carry the spade and it together, lace our fingers together, draw her in closer, let our arms touch as we continue to walk in silence.
But I don't.
Thinking about what’s inside of hers.
