“Yes?” My heart is in her hands.Please accept this, Sophie.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” She asks. I blink at her.
“Uh, what?”
“Soren, look,” she sighs. “Can you come kill this guy? I was trying to get you him as a gift.”
“You were getting me a man? That feels…” I grimace. Maybe I was too convincing when I kissed that corpse before?
“To kill.”
“Oh!… oh?” I’m confused. She sighs.
“I wanted to show you that I’m okay with you killing and assure you that I’m never leaving.”
“You were?” I’m getting choked up. She really did just leave for the store. If the store was an euphemism for picking up new murder victims.
“Yes, but he sort of realized I was up to no good and— Shit, he’s coming back.”
“What?” My voice is cold as ice.
“He’s got me locked in his closet. I’m texting you the address now.”
“Wait, he let you keep your phone?” I ask.
“Soren, focus. I’m trapped. Please come and kill this fucker.” The text comes through.
“I love you, Soren.” Sophie disappears. My phone says the call has ended right when I hear some fucker growling at her.
Everything I never hoped to have is in danger. The anger that comes over me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Sophie’s family gets back to the house at the same time that I’m running out of it.
“The streets are terrible! Is Sophie back?”
“I’m going to get her.” I’m blinded with rage as I get in my car. The roads are slick, freezing rain morphing into sheets of ice on the hilly roads. It’s infuriating going slow. He’s so fucking close, but it feels way too far right now.
I know who the guy is. I’d looked him up before, but I try not to be terribly obvious about serial killing. Which is why I put him off. I was splitting up things between this county and surrounding ones.
He’s a sick fuck, and he’s gotmytherapist in his hands.
After what feels like forever, the rage has morphed back into that terrible anxiety again. This is truly what love is. I know it from my kids. Love is about being terrified of loss. It’s otherpeople having the capability to destroy you. If Sophie’s hurt, if she’s gone, I won’t survive it.
The front door is wide open when I pull up to the house. His foyer is starting to grow damp from the freezing rain.
“Sophie!” I yell. I follow the prints in the snow. They twist around the side of his house. Two sets. One smaller than the other. He’s chasing her. I feel sick.
Behind his house is a steep incline that I struggle to get up in the weather. When I’m spit out on the top, what I find is sickening. He’s on top of her, his filthy hands wrapped around her throat and squeezing. She can’t breathe. Her lips look blue.
It all goes white. Normally, I’m more in the moment than ever when I kill. The smells, the sensations—the entire experience is visceral and poignant.
Right now, I can barely tell what’s happening. I’ve rammed him off her, and I’m beating the ever-loving shit out of him with my bare fists. It’s not pleasing; it’s absolutely necessary. The bones in my hands break as I keep going. The sick fuck can still wheeze from what’s left of his face, so I rip my belt from my pants and loop it around his throat. I tighten it and drag him to the drop-off I know is behind his house. When I was considering how I’d kill him before, I thought dropping him off the cliff would be fun. It’s not fun today.
I twist around, wrapping the belt around my fist. My eyes find Sophie as I pull it tight. She’s still lying in the snow, watching me. She nods as I keep holding the guy. My muscles strain as I lift him off the ground. There’s a crack in his neck.
My energy gives all at once when his neck snaps. I drop in the snow, roll him over, and kick him off the edge. Then I crawl back to Sophie.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I wipe her cheeks, leaving stripes of red from my bloody hands.
