He grabs my ass firmly, his fingers bruising my flesh. I let out a delighted yelp when he bites my shoulder.
It seems Patrick’s body will have to wait.
Chapter Nine
Yesterday was diabolical. A desecration filthier than sin itself. We fucked like we were possessed on top of Patrick’s deceased body, whose flesh, despite the coldness, was still supple. We fucked between his slimy organs that were sprawled across the concrete floor. After, we showered and Jasper made sure I knew once more who I belonged to, making me cry out his name like a desperate prayer.
For our little excursion outside, we put on warm clothes as the weather is getting colder. Jasper hauls the body along and when we arrive at the spot, he strings him like a demonic-looking scarecrow against the trunk of a large chestnut tree. The tree trunk stands half-stripped, gnawed by deer and other creatures, a sign that prey wanders thick through these woods. This means, in turn, that predators also prowl close by—an idealplace to hang him—where the hungry and the hunted are never far apart.
Bugs collect almost instantly, with fat flies buzzing and landing, eagerly spreading their eggs, while maggots already crawl out of his body from the earlier exposure. I capture the ghastly sight in morbid fascination.
Sitting on the couch, snuggling against Jasper, I sift through my shots, reliving the days prior. Jasper is curing, drying, and rendering the muscle cords supple so he can use them to create his keepsake. This morning, he showed me. Small braids of dried-up ribbons, all similar in length. Strands of hair accompanied some. The wooden cabinet holding the skulls in our bedroom has a double layer that is not visible from the outside. That’s where he keeps his prized possessions—the desecrated relics of his victim’s passing, steeped in violence and admiration. All of them are stacked atop each other. I don’t dare to count them.
The sound of wheels rolling on gravel makes me sit up straight, and with wide eyes, I glance at Jasper. Fear runs through me, afraid that someone will step into the space we cleaned yesterday, the stench of bleach still lingering if you enter. He grabs my chin and presses his lips to mine. His touch eases my nerves a little.
“It’s just Marvin, Starling. Relax. I asked him to pick up something from town. A surprise. No one will ever come hereand hurt you, or take you from me. I’ll kill them before they even have the chance to try.”
He grins at me and gets up, casually walking toward the front door. His words still linger, the threat protective and possessive. When he opens it, Marvin stands there indeed, a large brown paper bag in one hand, with no brand printed on it, hinting at what might be inside. Their greeting is quick, just a formality. Marvin catches my eyes, a flicker of confusion there, then gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod. I lift my hand and give him a wave. They exchange a few words, and again, Marvin looks my way, still puzzled. Jasper takes the bag, and they say their goodbyes.
Ignoring Marvin’s strange behavior, I focus on the bag in Jasper’s hand.
“What is it?” I ask.
“A gift,” he says secretively.
“For me?”
He smirks as he presses the bag into my hands, watching me with excitement, as if he’s even more elated about the gift than I will be. For a fleeting moment, I hesitate—then reach inside, my fingers brushing against a shape I know by heart. My throat tightens, and tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. I draw it out slowly, turning it in my hands and observing every detail of the camera Jasper has given me. It’s an old Polaroid camera.
Carefully, I place it beside me, as though setting down something fragile and alive. Then I surge forward and wrap my arms around him, clinging harder than I mean to.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his skin, the words tumbling out in a breathless litany. “Thank you, thank you.”
His strong arms envelop me, and he kisses the top of my head. We stay in this embrace for several minutes, savoring the moment and each other’s presence, with not a single worry.Reluctantly, I pull back; his features are soft, gentle, a side he preserves only for me. His dark hair frames his handsome face and gives me a small smile.
Unable to ignore the unease Marvin instilled in me earlier, I suck in my lower lip, searching for the words to ask my question without insulting him or insinuating something.
“Starling, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
Before I can respond, he continues. “You are an open book to me, Darling. The way you chew on your lower lip, or suck it in, means something harrows your thoughts. Let me in, make me part of your sorrow so I can take them away.”
He brushes my cheek softly with the back of his index finger, and I lean into the touch.
“Marvin,” I say hesitantly, “he looked at me in confusion… almost as if…” I pause, searching for the words. Unsure how to convey the emotion his glance gave me, I just blurt it out. “As if he was surprised I was still here… My presence caught him off guard. Perhaps I’m seeing things, but that was the impression I got.”
“Maybe he had expected you to abandon me.”
The answer is short, stoic, almost cementing the unease. I narrow my eyes at him. An ominous foreboding begins to stir in the back of my mind. His response came too fast, too dismissive.
“What did you do…?”
It’s not an accusation; it’s a genuine question. A flicker of fear in his eyes as he meets mine.
“I can’t let you leave, Clara. My heart won’t survive the loss of your presence. Please, don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not leaving, Jasper. Why would you say such a thing?”
Dread begins to tighten in my stomach, a knot forming that seems to be impossible to untangle. Vile whispers enter my mind, with foul tales of death and murder at the hands ofJasper. Former lovers, dead by his hand. Him unable to contain the terror that houses within him. I slowly rise to my feet while my mind is piecing the puzzle together, and when he reaches for me, instinctively, I pull away. I fail to understand how my subconscious felt safe around him; his presence, if anything, soothed me rather than terrified me. I need to hear the words from him.
