“The camera loves you, baby…” and she loved it… until her clothes came off. The discomfort is evident in her stare, but she continued. It’s the cost of the dream, right? At least that’s what we were led to believe.
With each page turned, my fingers shake a little harder. She went from wearing average clothes, looking like a normal, everyday girl, to a goddess in green. The same green dress hangs in the closet now.
In these photos, she should look perfect. Instead, she looks faded, like a ghost of a person with faraway eyes. I saw a lot of girls on drugs underground, and that’s what I see in my girl now.
In these photos, my Bunny isn’t present. Her body is there, being placed on the ground and violated in every position, but her mind is gone.
A mercy, I suppose.
One less horrible memory to break her.
When the photos become too much to handle, I slam the book shut, holding back the vomit that threatens to spew.
Oh, my girl.
My Bunny.
Sick to my stomach, I rip every page free, tearing the photos to pieces except one.
It’s a candid of Bunny in that exquisite green dress. Her hair is curled all around her in wide, framing barrels. Her skin appears porcelain, shining like the diamonds that drip from her. Lashes black and sweeping, with lips soft and pink, Bunny is inhuman, the most perfect thing to exist.
In a house of horrors, she’s a gift—one no one deserves.
Carefully, I take that photo and slide it in my pocket, vowing to treasure it until the day I die.
I didn’t realize how deep the closet went, how soundproof it was inside the dense walls. It masked the noises coming from the other room, the fear in my girl’s voice when she spoke. It all becomes more coherent as I get closer to the end, but nothing is clearer than him.
“—Assuming that was you and not the ungrateful bastard I took in.”
The gun, which I had placed in the pocket of my pants, is in my hand in an instant, loaded and ready. I don’t even need to think about it when I creep out of the room and point it in his direction. It fires and, like with my blade, I don’t miss. One of his biceps explodes into a fountain of blood, and this time, it’s his scream in the air.
“It was her,” I announce, but he’s too preoccupied by the woundIinflicted.
Breathing heavily, Marone glares at the new hole in his body, furious before a vicious laugh takes over. “You are going to fucking die for that, boy.”
That smile turns into a snarl as he charges at me from across the room. Bunny comes flying at the same instant, both of them racing in my direction. But my guns only pointed at one.
A thunderousbangechoes through the room, and Marone goes down, knee completely shattered. It’s my turn to charge now, barrel pointed straight at his head.
“Look who’s prey now.”
Marone glares daggers at me from the floor, sneering with spit stringing from his lips. There’s a silent challenge coming from both of us. His eyes are screaming for me to do it.Shoot him. But me? All I want is for him to stand and face me like a fucking man.
Can he do it when there’s no chain locking me in place or a cage between us?
While I wait to find out, I eye Bunny climbing backwards off the bed, eyes never leaving the back of Marone’s head.Stupid man. It looks like she forgot there were two monsters in this room.
There’s no forgetting now, though, not with the blade hooked around the corner of his lips. All the confidence that was foaming out of him melts away. The intoxicating aroma of bitter metal, heady musk, and sweat replaces it.
Fear.
Gun at his head, blade in his mouth—finally, we have the devil at our feet.
“Do you know how many times I’ve been in this same position?” Bunny asks, tearing vicious tracks in his scalp. She doesn’t unsheathe her claws until her fingers are painted red. She uses the thick, crimson blood to draw strips from his chin to cheek. “Do you know how many times I’ve had a knife in my mouth?”
“About the same number of times you’ve had a dick in there?”
That comment earns him his first slice. Lucky for him, she was quicker with the blade than I was with the trigger. As the slice curls up his face, broken and torn with some pieces still connected to others, I change my thoughts.Maybe he’s not so lucky after all.
