God, I’m so pathetic. What is wrong with me? This is a simple task, and I still have a mile to go before I reach my final resting spot.
What was I thinking? I was never going to be able to bury my body.
Did I seriously think I’d be able to dig myself agrave? This past week has been one big joke, and I’m so tired of it all. I wanta win. Just one. Why can’t I have this one fucking thing? Is that too much to ask for? Am I too awful a person to have this?
“What are you doing?”
I jolt at the sound of Lynx’s voice and bend back over to grab the ankles again. How much of that did he see?
“Not right now,” I huff, avoiding his gaze so he doesn’t see how my eyes have reddened.
Except my hands go right through, and I feel the first tear gather on my lashes.
“It’s a simple question.”
I ignore him. My teeth grind as I try again. No bite.
“Look, you can come fucking annoy me later, alright? You’ve got free rein. Just give me ten fucking minutes—what are you doing?” My corpse is pulled from my fingers into Lynx’s arms. “Put her down.”
The demon doesn’t so much as look at me. He walks in the direction of the stairs, holding me bridal style against his chest with ease that I never had.
“Where?”
I stumble to catch up. “Right there.” I point to the floor in front of us. At least that’s a few feet I didn’t need to manage myself.
“Where are you burying your body?” He finally looks at me, but he doesn’t stop moving forward.
He’s… Something thick and not wholly unpleasant lodges in my throat. I regard his profile, matching his pace. He’s really going to help me? From the hard set of his jaw, down to his sure steps, nothing about the way he walks indicates this might be a game or a means to enact vengeance.
For the first time since I’ve met him, he almost looks human. It’s the way the corners of his eyes have softened, like this is something sacred. That beneath all the blood and venom, he has morals.
I could almost believe we’re two acquaintances, not that I’m helping him hide my own body.
“There’s a willow tree to the east of the property. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk.”
Lynx nods, letting me lead us down the stairs, which creak and groan beneath his weight. He has to skip the steps where the wood has splintered or has been damaged to the point of disrepair.
When I first came here over a week ago, there were food packets, empty takeout containers, beer cans, and glass bottles littered all around the manor, but as the days go by, there’s less and less trash. In the same way, the bins out back are getting fuller and fuller.
I rush ahead once we reach the bottom of the grand staircase and open the door, leaving behind no mark on the dirty wooden floors.The door quietly glides open, and all I can do is stare at the hinges that most definitely weren’t oiled the night I came here.
If Lynx notices my shock, he says nothing. I glance at him as he continues with his task, trying to make sense of his unreadable expression. He’s making this slice of hell his own.
A warm, painful, fluttery sensation tingles in my chest when I watch him walk down the moss-covered steps onto the pavement, carrying my body in a way that’s so against everything I’ve come to know about him. He moves gently, careful not to jostle my stiff body, or hit the overgrown bushes on either side of the path.
I’ve never been held like that before. I’ve never been treated with that kind of gentleness or like I’m something important that shouldn’t be damaged. And the first time I am, it’s as a corpse, too dead to know what it feels like.
It’s a sick joke.
He doesn’t rush toward the trees, or huff and complain. His pace isn’t leisurely, and his posture isn’t irritated. It’s the type of movement I’d expect from a man showing respect to the dead he’s about to bury. Not like I’m his murder victim or prison warden. Not like he loathes me and sees this as nothing more than a tedious project to pass the time.
I don’t recognize him.
This can’t be the same demon who chased me or enraged me to the point where I stuck a knife into him. For the first time, he seems like an actual person.
Lynx follows me through the forest. It’s silent except for the morning birdsong, and thecrunchof fallen leaves and twigs beneath his boot.
As we keep walking, the feeling in my chest morphs until it’s a heavy lump that grows and reaches the back of my throat. Yet at the same time I feel lighter.
