Chapter 22
Anonymous
Ifound you Sin like I always do. I knew this was more than likely the place you'd run off to with the kids. I've watched Cohen too. He's been drunk most evenings, so drunk he doesn't even notice me when I come into your home. I’ve been there often. He's been calling out your name when he orgasms.I guess the grass is not that green on the other side, huh, Cohen?He's a dirty asshole, though. I'm surprised you didn't find out sooner. He goes to work every day in a state. I follow him there. A few nights ago, a woman tried to come onto him, and he shoved her away. She screamed at him, threatening to take him to human resources. Your husband is a serial cheater.
I run a few feet behind you and the handsome detective. What are the chances you would both come from the same town? He's got the hots for you, and you're pretty smitten yourself, looking at him like that. What would the girls think? You're still with their father. You are better than this, Sin. You slow to a stop to catch your breath and laugh at something he says. He's wanted to kiss you many times. He just holds back because it would be a severe offense for him to give in.
Sometimes I want to approach you, Sin, tell you everything, but there is always something that holds me back. Today, it's Billy.
I get into my car and drive to the morgue. It's a gloomy place, as it should be. The coroner lets me in and leads me to the back. He rattles on and on about funeral plans and caskets. I don't really pay attention. He stops in front of a curtain and draws it back, exposing Billy, a white sheet covering her body from foot to neck. She looks peaceful like this. Harmless. I slowly draw closer. "You take all the time you need," the old man says. He closes the curtain and leaves me and Billy's corpse.
I’ve always wanted to kill Billy, and she went and killed herself, like the fool she was. I think about Rob fucking her body as the life drained from it. He really was an evil fucker.
I look down at Billy, who seems so small on the silver gurney, nothing like the monster I grew to fear. The best thing I did was outgrow her, but not even she deserved to die the way she did. I say nothing, no words come to mind. It feels fake to say things I know I will never mean. She did the right thing in the end, gave me more than she had in the years she had me. The truth, but what was I going to do with that truth?
I ask for the coroners to conduct a small funeral. Billy has no family, as far as I know. She never mentioned them. I figure she was an outcast like she made me out to be. I take a seat in the tiny chapel, just me, dead Billy, the coroner, and a priest. The man commits her soul to the lord, asking that he forgive her discretions and create for her a place in his house. I hear them say that at every funeral. I mean, who actually gets to live in the lord's house if everyone is supposed to get a place there. Isn't it overcrowded? Like in those documentaries, you see of foreign countries overrun with human beings.
I look at the cheap casket that houses a body that was void of a soul long before you took your last breath. Still, I'm angered at the way you died, and I swear that vengeance will be yours. I've always wanted to fight for something, a good cause.
The priest is done with this charade, and the coroner drives us to a crematorium. There was no need for me to buy a burial plot. Billy didn't really deserve to be commemorated in any way. I watch in silence as they place her casket on a conveyor belt in front of the furnace. When she’s in, they close the door.
"You should lock it." Both men look at me with eyes as wide as saucers. "Just in case." I shrug. And then they press a button and the furnace roars to life. I have to bite back a smile that threatens to break free. I like to think Billy just got up, realizing she’s in a box. I imagine her calling for help, and then feeling it, the overwhelming heat all around her. Feeling like she’s being burned alive and realizing that she actually is. The last name on her lips is mine, as she damns me to hell, a place she’s always belonged in.
* * *
Rob livesin a fancy two-story house not far from the supermarket he owns. It's all pretty plush for a guy in the retail business. There is even a small fountain in the front of the house leading up from the driveway. He drives a BMW, but there is a pretty impressive Merc SUV parked out front. I know it's because of all the other dealings he has. I park a few streets down in the parking lot of a competitor. It just seems appropriate that I shove it to him one last time. I called him from a burner, spun him some shit about wanting to talk about money for a funeral. As I expected, he was happy to oblige.
He buzzes me in, and I walk up to the expensively tiled porch. The house is a whitewash, with dark shutters. The dream. The lawn is well manicured. This is the kind of home I always imagined I'd have had growing up, complete with a dog and tire swing out front. Billy was right about one thing, dreaming never made lifeless fucked up.
"Well, well, if it isn't pretty tits." I hate that nickname, and he insists on calling me that.
"Hey, Rob, mind if I come inside?" I tuck my hands in my jeans pocket.
He steps aside and lets me in, his eyes roaming over my body like the filthy fuck he is.
“Thanks for seeing me.” I smile at him kindly. “I really appreciate it.”
The interior of the house is even fancier than the outside. It's modern and tastefully decorated. So much so that Rob looks entirely out of place here. Maybe if he called himself Robert and shed a hundred pounds, he'd do.
"Anything for my pretty tits." He looks at them when he says it, and the bile rises in my throat. "I was surprised you called."
“Why’s that? You were my mother's boyfriend.”
“I figured you’d run off to the cops after what you saw.” He stalks closer to me, the cigarette and alcohol on his breath make it so hard for me not to gag.
“Oh, nothing Billy was into fazed me. I’d seen worse.”
He licks his lips. "A little freak, huh?"
His eyes are predatory, but he isn't where I want him, so I have to play along. "I like fucking sleeping girls. It makes me harder than a fucking steel rod." He grips my wrists and makes me palm his dick. I have to breathe to keep from vomiting.
I pull my hand away, and he laughs. "You came here for money. You gotta know I don't give shit away for free."
"I know." I throw down my duffle and undo my shirt, letting it fall open, exposing my bare breasts. He looks at me like a lion does its next meal. He pushes me against the wall and palms my breasts. He squeezes them so hard I yelp.
“You gonna have to give me a lot more than that, baby.” He licks his lips again.
"How about a drink first, or something stronger." I suggest.
