“Youare,” I stress, scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft sigh. “But I like you afraid of me.” I push my hips into his. “Turns me on.”
“You’re a weird killer,” he whispers.
“So I’ve been told.” I bring his lips down to mine, and Remi comes readily, opening for me immediately. He’s too afraid that I’ll stop what we’re doing. “You got lube?” I ask, kissing down his chin, sucking on his skin.
“Ummm… Trevor should have…” His voice trails off and he starts to tremble, but not from arousal. “He… probably brought some for…” His breathing comes out in pants, his eyes wide with fear and… something else.
“Hummingbird?” I ask, tipping my head to the side. “You good?”
“I’m… I don’t think… I can’t…” He squeezes his eyes shut, then slides off my body onto the floor. I sit up and see him rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees. One hand does a tap-tap-tapping on his legs in an uneven rhythm.
Shit, he’s having an anxiety attack. My ex had a few, and it took him a while to calm himself down if he didn’t have something to focus on. I’m not sure what works for Remi, but I can’t have him cracking up like this. I can’t kill someone so fucking helpless.
Sliding down in front of him, I grab both sides of his face and tilt it up to me. “Look at me, Remi.” His eyes dart around, tears filling the brown depths. His breathing is still choppy, his hand doing that tapping that seems to soothe him.
I jostle him a little, making his eyes flick over to me. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t… I’m not…”
Yeah, that won’t get us anywhere. He needs to get his mind off of what almost happened to him. I’m sure that’s where he went in his head. He was into what we were doing until I brought up lube and he said Trevor’s name. Real fear clouded his vision.
I wish I could kill that asshole douche all over again. I can only imagine what would have happened to Remi had I not heard that fucking Mariah song.
Pulling him to his feet, I sit him on the bed and slide his pants back on, then drag his sweater over his head. Remi is so deep in his panic attack that he barely helps, but that’s okay. His small frame makes it easy to maneuver him how I want without effort.
“Come on,” I say, pulling him to his feet and leading him out of the room.
“W-what?” He speaks slowly, as if coming out of a deep sleep.
I stop in front of Trevor, looking down at his ruined body. “Grab his legs, Hummingbird. We need to take him outside.”
“Huh?” Remi looks at me with rounded eyes, his face paling. “His legs?”
“Mhm. Don’t want the house to smell from the bodies.”
Remi stares at me openmouthed for a few beats, then bursts into laughter. He slaps a hand over his lips, but the melodic noise drifts past. His eyes are still wide, but they dance with mirth as he gazes at me.
I smile, hoping that carting bodies outside will pull his mind from his attempted rape. I want him to see that each and everyman who tried to take something he didn’t freely give is fucking dead and will never hurt him again.
Bending down, I slide my hands under Trevor’s armpits and haul him up. Blood slowly oozes out of his wound and his head lolls forward. I have to rearrange his limbs to get a good grip on him, bits of fingers rolling away near my feet. Then I look up at Remi expectantly.
With another giggle, he says, “Let me grab my shoes. I don’t want blood on my bare feet.”
6
REMI
I’m halfwaythrough dragging the third body from the living room when I realize I just put my only means of escape out in the cold. The keys for the car are still in Trevor’s pocket, and by the time we get everyone outside, he’s already dusted in snow and rolled into a ditch beside his shitty friends.
I’m probably not going to get to those keys anytime soon. Hell, I’m not sure anyone is going to get to them before the animals do. I have to stop myself from dissolving into another fit of hysterical giggles at the thought of raccoons stealing Trevor’s car.
As we finish bringing the fourth body out and roll him down the hill, I’m internally trying to tell myself why I can’t get the keys to escape.
I’ve always been a terrible driver—there’s no way I’d be able to navigate my way down the mountain in this snow… and it’sreallystarting to come down now in wet, huge flakes that stick to my lashes and blur my vision. I really wish Trevor were still alive so I could point at it, so I could tell him I’d been right and he should have listened to me. Then again… if Trevor were still alive, I wouldn’t be dealing with this problem to begin with. So Iloop back around—I’m a terrible driver and I’d end up crashing in the snow, in the dark, so trying that would be a terrible idea. Right?
And besides, even if I were a good driver… the keys are in Trevor’s pocket. Down abighill.
No…hillisn’t the right word. We’ve practically thrown them down acliff. It’s snowing and the bodies are mostly covered. I would probablydietrying to get to them. It would be like one of those “ridiculous ways people have died” episodes I watch on YouTube. I definitely couldn’t traverse it without slipping and getting lost. There’s no way I’d be able to get down what has to be a hundred feet to Trevor’s body to?—
