Page 48 of Shattered Souls

“Will you mourn his death?” He asks while running this thumb along her lip.

“You’re sick.” She cries, pushing herself up once more. “I don’t want this! I want to go home and live a normal life. I don’t want to spend my life looking over my shoulder, worried you’ll kill anyone that touches me.”

“Shall I take you back?” Anger floods his tone. Something in his face shifts. “I can offer you up, instead of Maverick.”

It’s my turn for my brows to pinch together in confusion. What is he talking about?

“No,” her voice is harsh and firm, unmoving.

“Then you’ll learn to accept this way of life. Because come the end of October,” I move slightly inside her, reminding her of who’s in control. “You’re ours forever.”

“I’ll never love either of you.” She grinds out. Words she’s been saying more and more to my twin. Words that hold nothing for me. Love isn’t something I want from her. After all, the only love I was given as a child came in the form of a hand down my pants and tender kisses while my tears were wiped away.

I want to learn her. Learn the way she sleeps, the way she likes her showers, the way she sits with her legs tucked under her body to read a book. I want to learn how her body responds to certain touches, or the sounds she makes when she’s breathless and desperate for more.

“Good,” Seek stands to his full height, eyes looming down at her for a moment, before turning around and picking up the lower half of the body. I resume my slow and soft thrusts. “Because we’re not looking to give it.”

She tries to squirm away from me as she watches him move towards the barrel in the corner of the room. She pushes against my thighs with her palms, so I grab both of them and hold them behind her back.

It’s only a matter of a few more thrusts before I’m spilling myself deep into her. Her walls clench around me as she comes undone just as the last drop of my seed leaks into her.

Seek has started chopping the legs into smaller bits so the acid can eat away at the flesh and bone with ease. She only watches this for a few more seconds before she scrambles and rushes into my arms, still finding some sort of comfort in me.

“I’m taking her to shower, then I’ll come help with the barrel.” I sign around her trembling frame.

“Don’t even bother,” he snaps at me.

“Don’t take out your frustration on me. This was just as much your idea as mine, either embrace it or fucking get rid of her.” My hands almost stumble with the speed of my words. Even though I’ve used sign language most of my life, I still fumble some words or try to talk faster than my hands can actually go—this is one of those times.

He switches to signing, even though the woman in my arms is ignoring us like her life depends on it. “I refuse to force her to want me. If you two want to ride off into the sunset, by all means, go for it. But just remember our plan, Hayze. She only has until the end of October, then we’re gone.”

I stand, cradling her to my chest as anger bubbles in my veins. I leave without another word. She’s quiet and still as I place her down on the tilted shower floor and let the warm water run over her skin. The water runs pink as Damien’s blood washes off of her.

Her arms are wrapped around her middle, eyes pinned to the pink water. “Is there something wrong with me?” She questions quietly. I’m not sure if the question is one she truly wants answered until her eyes lift to mine.

HOW SO?

“I was just fucked in front of a dead body and still managed to enjoy it.” The shame is obvious in her voice from the way her cheeks deepen in color.

THERE’S NOTHING WRONG

My words seem to bring her little comfort. She showers, each move forced and exhausted, before I take her to my bed and secure one of her wrists to the head board. She’s asleep before I can even finish clasping the cuff shut.

My mind soars as I walk back to find my brother. This was something I was so sure of when I first saw her. But now—now she seems so frail and not ready for a life like ours—always on the run, looking over our shoulders. But who knows, maybe she’ll embrace the nomad life with us.

16

Seek

“What the fuck was that?” I ask the owner of Shattered Souls, Rick, as we walk side by side the following day. He’s an older man, in his late fifties, with grey hair and a face full of wrinkles that mirror an unhappy life.

He came to the scare park this morning after hearing of the masked man, and the death of an employee. He wasn’t pleased to hear that the police plan on sticking around and surveying the area since Maverick is still here and the masked man promptly escaped.

“I’m not sure,” Rick groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I just know that we need to find Maverick tonight and question him.” He speaks so openly about the running of the park with me due to his own shady background.

You see, Rick didn’t just offer the basement of Shattered Souls to some random scare actor. He offered the living arrangements to me because he saw himself in me: scared and on the run without a place to call my own.

“He won’t show, there was a fucking masked dude here to get him—he’s not coming.” I counter.