Irvin saysEmerson. There’s that word again. Andkill. That’s right. I need to get rid of Emerson. I need to eliminate him.
My little sapphire, whispers behind my ear.
Irvin opens the door and kisses my forehead. He says something, but his words are distorted. I watch him carry the duffel bag. I see the axe in his hand.
Blood splatters across my chest. My mother’s blood. Gray, sticky matter on the carpet.
Irvin and Jameson disappear through the steel door.
I don’t remember opening the car door or walking inside the warehouse.
But I see Irvin press a gun to Emerson’s forehead as Jameson ties him to a chair. I inch closer.
My heart thumps.
Jameson holds a camera in Emerson’s face.
Irvin punches Emerson, drawing blood.
He laughs.
Irvin yanks him by the shirt.
Emerson watches me, anger distorting his face.
“I thought I killed you, bitch,” Emerson shouts. “You’re mine. I gave up everything for you.”
Jameson slams the butt of the gun into Emerson’s forehead. Emerson groans.
Irvin rushes to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He says something, but his voice is muted.
Emerson is smoking a cigarette in the corner by the wall.
There are two of them.
“I should’ve shot you in the head before I buried you in that grave,” Emerson spits—the one in the chair.
“You shoul—”
My body tingles. I feel myself grab the axe from Irvin’s hand and drag it behind me. Metal screeches against concrete.
“Do you smell that?” I ask.
“What, baby?” Irvin answers.
“Blood and fatty tissue.”
Irvin’s eyes widen.
Jameson steps in front of me, but I walk around him.
Jameson snatches the axe from me. “I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret.”
“I have to,” I murmur.
Irvin takes the axe from Jameson and places it back in my hands.
“Do what you have to do, my Lilac.”
