Scoffing, Theodore grumbles, “Trust me, pretty girl, I work out enough to carry almost triple this. I’ll be fine… just lead the way.”
I check the area, making sure there are no other cars or people within the trees before trekking through the forest. Every so often, I swivel around, making sure Theodore is close behind before picking up the pace.
We need to hurry. The time on my phone reads two fifteen in the morning. I’m not sure how long those sleeping pills last, but dad wakes at six. Four hours may not be enough time to do what needs to be done.
At two-forty, we reach our end. Gently, Theodore places Beth’s wrapped corpse on the muddy, squishy ground and takes a shovel from my hand. Together we dig, falling into the earth until we’re sweating and buried in a ten-foot hole.
Theodore pulls himself out first. Then, reaching for my hands, he heaves me up, lifting me as if I weigh nothing.
He holds me in his arms for a moment, tenderly touching the side of my face before whispering on my lips, “After this, it’s just you and me, my love. Forever.”
“Forever,” I promise, sliding down his hard, glistening body.
There will be time for romance later. But, for now, we have to get Beth’s body in this fucking hole and disappear without a trace.
Taking the bottles out of my bag, I dig for the shears I packed. While I do this, Theodore drags her closer to the hole, practically on the edge of the wide opening.
“Here, I’ll do it.”
Handing him the scissors, I pull on a pair of thick leather gloves and search for my other tools.
The smell of Beth’s decay breezes through my nostrils as he cuts open the layers of tarp. The rancid scent has vomit searing its way up my throat. I hold it back, swallowing down the pungent acid while tears develop in my eyes.
“Holy shit.” Theodore gasps, flying into a coughing fit.
“No! No!” I shout, sprinting to shove him out of her direction. “DNA! Don’t cough, sneeze, spit anything near her!”
Apologizing through his tears, he backs away, still trying to gain control over his breathing. While he’s off somewhere in the trees, I steady my pulse, bringing myself to my most calm state before getting to work.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Theodore hisses, staring at me with horrified eyes as I begin chopping off Beth’s fingers with my brand-new kitchen shears.
“Getting rid of evidence,” I say, holding my sweater between my lips to prevent my saliva from splashing on her rotting skin.
“Scarlett, this-” He pauses, watching me in disgust with his hands on top of his hood-covered hair. “This is too much… just, let’s put her in the hole and move on.”
Annoyed with his sudden squeamishness, I drop the shears, letting her digit bounce on the ground while I throw the facts in his face.
“Your DNA is under her nails, Theodore! Your skin from that fucking wound on your neck! Your hair, from when she was yanking at your scalp! Everything that could give you fucking life in prison is on her fucking fingers! Do you understand that?! Now, if you can’t fucking handle this, then dig the hole a little deeper and let me do my fucking job!”
Huffing, I spin away and return to Beth’s side.
“Plus, she hurt your fingers, and in all fairness, I think she should lose hers for it,” I add, gazing at her rotten flesh.
This is fucking disgusting.
I don’t enjoy kneeling on the damp earth with a dead woman’s hand in my lap. I don’t want to cut off her fingers one by one and place them in a fucking Ziplock baggie! But someone has to do the dirty work.Someone has to keep us safe!
I’m shaking by the time I finish them all, wracked with nerves and nausea, but the hardest part still isn’t done.
If Theodore couldn’t take me shearing off her fingers, then there’s no way he’ll be able to stomach what I’m about to do next.
I crawl across the mud with a heavy breath, halting when her caved-in skull is between my thighs. I try not to notice the features that still make up her face, but it’s nearly impossible. She’s still there, the beautifully icy woman who threatened me at school that day. I can see her once-stunning attributes through putrefied flesh.
Her eyes are still open… or eye, I should say. The other one is nothing but pulp, merging with the mush that was once the other half of her face.
This time, I’m unable to hold back my vomit. Bits of it pass through my lips, dribbling down the corners of my mouth before I use my sweater to clean me off.
Somehow, I’m going to have to burn these clothes before the night is over.
