At first, he only blinks, clearly unsure what he's looking at. If it's a toy, it's a small one, considering Cole had such a disappointment between his legs.
He only stares a moment before lifting his palm to the glow coming off the polished kitchen; he never bothered turning the lights on.
"What is..." His voice trails off as he lifts it between his fingers, raising it higher, inspecting it.
"What the fuck?" Realization slams into him and he drops the severed penis, jumping backwards and wiping his hands on his pants, looking affronted.
"What's wrong?" I ask, smiling the slightest bit. I see him look at me, but the awareness doesn't click yet thanks to the low lighting, the shadows around me. "You just admitted you belong on the naughty list. Naughty boys get Cole for their gifts."
He blinks at me, squinting a little as he tries to see through the dark to see who I am. "Coal?" He asks, turning back to the counter, where his best friend's dick is stark white, now that it's been drained of all blood.
"Cole." I nod, taking a step toward him and reveling in the horror that dawns on his face when he realizes who's in his house.
"What the fuck?" He shakes his head, like maybe I'm just a vision, a hallucination that will disappear when he readjusts. "You can't be here."
"Why not? It's such a lovely home."
"You... you're..."
"Dead?"
He nods.
"Did you check? You just trusted Nick was right." I shake my head, drawing close enough to wrap my hand around the back of his neck, anchoring him close to me. "What if I was still alive when you dragged me into the woods? What if I was still alive when you threw me into the lake?"
I close my eyes, focusing on the image I want to project. Around us, the kitchen disappears in a cloud of falling snow. "What if I climbed out after you left?"
"That's not possible..."
He's doing a good job trying to convince himself that none of this is real, but I plant the scene I want him to imagine... me, naked and soaked, climbing through the ice, dragging my body out of the pond. For all I know, I'm still there, the shell of me floating beneath the ice just waiting for someone to glance down and see me there, or the ice to melt.
"No!” He snaps. “This isn't real. None of this is real."
"You're right." I sigh, letting the illusion dissolve so that he can see we are clearly still in his kitchen. "It's not real. But I feel real, don't I?"
Brant stares at me, wide-eyed and shaken. "What do you..."
His voice trails off again when I run my fingers along his cheek and down his jaw, stroking across his lips.
"It's really me."
I can feel his skepticism, his reluctance to believe that this is just a bad dream, but also his longing. It's an interesting change from how Cole reacted.
"What are you..." I kiss his neck, taking advantage of his surrender to push him into the bar stool, where Noah immediately seizes his wrists, tying them tightly with a strand of multi-colored lights he yanked off the tree before Brant got home. He tries to stand, but Noah yanks the cord tight, securing his hands at his sides, before wrapping the strand around his neck. All the while, Brant struggles to free himself like he stands a chance at escape.
I watch Noah walk around to the other side of the kitchen, whistling the tune to “Jingle Bells” as he stalks toward the microwave, tethering it around the handle before finally turning around to grin at me.
"What the fuck?" Brant snarls, rocking back and forth in an attempt to dislodge himself somehow. "What is this shit?"
"This is fun, don't you think?" I laugh, snatching his gift off the counter and presenting it to him. "Come on, Brant. It's a joke, not a dick."
When he stares at me, I tip my head. "I mean, itisa dick, but you don't have to take it so hard."
He glares at me, his eyes dropping to the penis, and finally, realization seems to slam into him.
Dumb fucker.
His face contorts slowly into a mask of outrage, his jaw hanging open in indignation as if castrating a worthless piece of shit is the most heinous thing he can imagine. To be fair, he does lack creativity. When he pushed me down in the snow and tookwhat he wanted, he didn't even try to be original. He just gripped my hips and shoved inside, pumped until he was done, and then cheered on his friend as he did the same. It was so flavorless, less like he did it because he wanted to have that power over me, and more like he did it because I was there. Because he could.
