He gestures to the wall, barely giving him a glance, his attention solely focused on me. “You can take some of the buckets, fill them with water, and put them there, thanks.”
“So, more surprises, huh?” I say.
“I figured you might want to add some fresh flowers to your photos as well. I didn’t know if you wanted decay only,” he says with a smirk.
Marvin scrapes his throat once more to attract Jasper’s attention, and I can’t help but feel annoyed by it. He senses it immediately, my irritation of having Marvin in our intimate space; his presence in general is something I haven’t made peace with yet. Not after the strange glances from several days ago.
Jasper turns to Marvin, waiting for him to speak.
“The flowers are arranged, Sir… Is there anything else I can… help with?”
“Yes, please help me move the girl into the casket,” he says.
Without a word, he removes the lid of the wooden tomb, then Marvin follows after Jasper.
They carry her in carefully, their pace is slow so as to not break the wax, a living statue in their arms. I nervously chew the inside of my cheek until I taste the familiar copper flavor, which soothes my nerves a little. If they drop her, I’ll have to redo my work, and despite the joy I've had working on her, I don’t want to do it again. The way the wax has formed around her curves makes her look like perfection. Once she’s settled, Marvin asks again if there’s anything else Jasper needs assistance with.
“No, this was all. Thank you. Mind if you find your way out by yourself?”
“Of course not, Sir.”
With those words, he leaves, and I instantly feel the air becoming less dense, and I inhale dramatically.
I shove away my erratic feelings and focus on Tammy. I position clothing over her skin, making it appear as if she’s wearing it. I grab some stems with gnarly-looking leaves and arrange them around her face, forming a halo. Her eyes snap from the plant, to my hands and back. She’s restless, her emotions in turmoil behind her gaze, but she’s unable to free herself from her prison, let alone speak. I add some Baby’s breath; the airy flower creates a botanical cloud atop the halo. I finish the arrangement with deep red roses and white lilies.
I hum from excitement, stepping back to take in her beauty.
“Close your eyes, pretty girl,” I say. “If you don’t, I’ll be forced to glue them tight,” I threaten, when she doesn’t obey me instantly. She shuts her eyes, her long lashes meeting the wax on her face. She reminds me of my favorite photograph, the young girl at peace.
I begin to snap pictures under Jasper’s watchful glance, his presence hovering nearby. After a few minutes, he steps behind me, his lips finding my neck as I try to concentrate. His warmth is a blanket; I never want to peel from my body, feeling his skin on mine is the only validation I need.
“I don’t want to disturb you. I just find it hard to stay away from you,” he murmurs.
I lean into him, the camera still in my hands as I shoot more pictures. “Then stay close to me,” I whisper back, as his hands slide between my legs.
“Keep shooting, Starling. This is me being close to you, taking your invite,” he says. I can hear the mischievous grin as he speaks.
I obey, trying to focus.
The constant movement of her eyeballs underneath her eyelids is driving me crazy. It’s distracting me, marbles that keep rolling from left to right. I want to concentrate on the image I envision, but she makes it impossible for me. I whisper to Jasper that I need the superglue, and he reluctantly lets me go to grab it for me.
The glue in my hand, I bend over, and Tammy still has her eyes shut. I smile at her; the hope she clings to is admirable. I squeeze the small tube and watch as the clear fluid drips onto the thin skin. It spreads like molasses, finding its way between the black lashes. Instinctively, she blinks, allowing it to attach itself to the waterline. Within a few seconds, she’s no longer able to blink as the glue dries, securing her eyelids.
She groans loudly, from the stinging sensation as the fluid burns itself into her corneas.
As Tammy is processing her pain, Jasper’s fingers have found my clitoris, and he’s rubbing me in a rhythm I know I won’t be able to withstand much longer.
I zone in on the whimpering noises she makes, and my orgasm slams into me.
The following day, I’m curled up against Jasper with a laptop on my lap, the machine softly whirring against my legs. His head is leaning on mine. His fingers are twirling in my hair, as I move the mouse over my screen, changing the colors, the contrast. I play with the settings until I am satisfied with the result. Even though the polaroids gave the photos the hauntingglow I love, I still scanned them as well. Too see if in the future I might have to change anything for an even more morbid result.
After the glue had settled, and I finished riding out my waves of pleasure, I lit a candle and made sure her eyelids were covered in wax as well.
Her face is peaceful; none of the despair and hurt she’s going through is visible. The pictures look pretty professional, and I am proud of myself.
When I’m done, we decide to go for a walk outside. The sun is out, and the weather is getting warmer. I put on a black parker and follow Jasper outside. The sun latches onto my skin, first a comforting warmth, but it’s as if the rays awaken a part of my flesh and set it on fire. Red blooms beneath the surface, spreading slowly. The burn deepens without mercy, and a silent scream passes my lips as I convulse. Blisters rise, swollen and glassy, stretched taut with clear fluid. They look almost delicate, obscene in their tenderness. Pain cements itself, and from its intensity, it’s clear it’s going to stay. My eyes begin to bulge as the agony spreads through every nerve.
Jasper carries me inside, worry etched on his face, but I don’t miss the fury that haunts his darkened eyes. Gently, he sets me on the couch, glances at my unrecognizable hands, then punches a number into his phone.
