Heading back into the shop, I give everything a quick wipe down and lock up. After, I walk over to the burn bins and put a lid on the embers before finally ascending the stairs to my apartment.
I tear off my jeans and put them in the laundry before getting into the ancient shower.
As the hot spray pelts down on my tight muscles, I relish the sensation and run my hand through my hair.
Once done, I fix my moustache in the mirror, taking a moment to admire the edgy combinationof ripped jeans and a dark band tee that I’ve chosen for the evening.
The darkness has receded from the centre of my mind. Light gets let in, but it’s not enough, and some days I wonder if I will ever be satisfied. My craving gets stronger with every kill.
Each time I extinguish a life, the vivid memories of my past etched deep in my mind quiet down. Scattered fragments of long-forgotten words haunt me, piercing my soul.
Shoving my hand through my pink hair, I set a black hat on backwards. From my fingertips to my toes, a tapestry of tattoos covers my skin, a constant reminder that nothing will ever satisfy my craving for more.
I tear my gaze away from my reflection. I snatch my keys off the counter and make my way to Lucy’s place.
On the drive there, the idea of taking two at once pops into my head. Just to experience it before I get the barn started. Snatching two tonight will ensure that the skins share the same timeline as the other in the solution.
I tap on the steering wheel to the song on the radio, a surge of adrenaline coursing through me.
Nine
Lucy
“Do y’all stay open twenty-four hours for the likes of us?” I ask the owner as I settle onto a bar stool.
The bar is a dive, but as worn as everything is, it’s cozy.
“Pretty much. Lucy, How’s it been?”
The lights are bright behind the bar, showcasing the different bottles of alcohol.
“Same shit, different day,” I say, cheeks heating. Why can’t I ever remember his name? “Got any coffee brewing?”
I should go home to sleep, but the weight of Miles’s recent activities stalls me from stepping foot in my house. I’ve been hyper-aware of minor inconsistencies—my notebooks out of place, drawers not closed all the way, a general unease.
“Sure do. Give me a minute.” He brings a cup of coffee to the guy sitting at the end of the bar.
A few old men hunker down at a table, but other than them, it’s only this guy at the bar.
When he returns, he doesn’t make small talk. Sliding the mug of coffee to me, he smiles before walking toward the back.
Buddy keeps a clean bar, which I’m thankful for. Nothing like the trailer growing up, broken beer bottles on the floor and a mixture of old liquor and body odour.
My focus slips from the mug to the television playing the news of the last week. Two girls have gone missing, and I wonder if the Keepsake Killer has struck again.
“Haven’t seen you here before. Name’s Ken.”
I turn my head to the cliché talker. Curly dark blond hair covers his forehead and blue eyes stare back at me.
“Lucy. Do you work around here?” I bring the cup to my lips, blowing on the coffee lightly before I take a sip. I think he has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I do. Fireman.” His broad shoulders turn toward me, his large fingers tapping the bar.
“Are you on call?”
“Just got off. It’s been a hell of a week. Thought about going to the gym, but I’m kinda antsy. Figured I’d sit here and see if anyone interesting came in.”
After taking another sip of my coffee, I put it down. “Honestly, that sounds creepy as hell.”