Page 11 of Wicked Games

To console her, I offer her a tissue, but she declines the gesture by waving it away, opting to use her shirt to wipe away her tears instead. “I just... I can’t believe they’re gone,” she says, her voice trembling. “And now I’m here, with you, and I don’t know what to do or how to feel.”

I sit there in silence, allowin’ her to process her emotions. The weight of her loss hangs heavy in the air. “I understand dis is overwhelmin’ for ya,” I breathe. “It's a matter of survival, and not resorting to even more horrible t'ings.”

Marlowe looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and anger. “Oh, so instead of you going out and being a serial rapist, you just rape one girl forever?” she scoffs. “Makes perfect sense.” She throws her arms up indefeat. She cries hysterically. “You are taking away every opportunity I had and slaughtered my family. And now you’re making me your… sex slave!”

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain our actions. Shit, I don’t even know how to explain what we done. This girl is all I need. I need her so badly it’s hard to keep myself from not touching her. “I know it’s hard ta see it now, but we didn’ have a choice.” She snorts, but I keep going. “Da world hasn’t been kind to our family. People like us have enemies, and townsfolk jus like to talk shit. Anytime we’d try to court a girl or woman, someone’d come and ruin it. How’s a man supposed to have a family if people constantly cockblockin’ him?”

Marlowe’s expression softens slightly as if she’s starting to understand. “But why me?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. “Why did Ollie think I was the one?”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts before answering. “My brother is da brains outta da two of us. You’d t’ink he was the older twin,” I chuckle. “But I came six whole minutes before ‘im. I suppose when he saw you, he saw some'in special.”

She looks at me skeptically, her eyes searching for any hint of deception. “And what if I don’t want to be a part of this? What if I just want my old life back?”

I sigh, knowing that my words might not be enough to convince her. “Marlowe, I get dat it’s a lot. We’re jus tryin’ ta survive in a world that’s stacked against us. Dis is your life now. So why don’t you try ta get some sleep and da t’ree of us can talk in da mornin’?”

Chapter 9

Ollie

The things a man will do for a girl are astounding. I’m getting rid of this girl’s parents in a way law enforcement won’t discover. Granted, this girl didn’t ask for us to murder her family or get rid of the evidence, still. Using an axe, I dismembered the parents’ bodies retrieved from the explorer, preparing them as food for the gators. The boy I have wrapped up real good in his sleeping bag. When I return, I’ll find a nice spot for him in the cemetery.

I t'ink she’s gon appreciate having him near 'er at da house.

It’s da least I can do.

The sweat and stink that is coming off of me in this heat is ridiculous. I can’t wait to get home and take a nice cold shower. Lord knows, Imma need it, what with having such a pretty little thing in the house now. It’s gonna be hard to keep my dick in my pants. The thoughts I’ve had of that girl since I saw her.She got a body built for sinnin’. Crafted by da devil himself to lure a man into da darkest pits of temptation, ta perform da most carnal of sins upon her.

I wonder if Wild’s already breakin’ her in?

The quicker I get this done, I can have my turn with her. I summon all my willpower to push through and continue. The chunks of the girl’s father are thrown into the swamp, and within moments, hungry gators surface to devour the gruesome offering. I get to work on the stepmama’sbody. Piece by piece, I hack at the limbs. Blood spatter covers my shirt and face, now that I’ve removed my mask.

I continue with the grim task at hand, my body heavy with the weight of what I’m doing. The girl, unaware of the horrors unfolding, doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for any of it.

As I finish dismembering the stepmother’s body, the stench of blood and decay fills the air. I take a moment to collect myself, wiping the blood from my face and removing my blood-soaked shirt. The heat is unbearable, and the sweat drips down my face, mingling with the grimy residue on my skin.

I gather the remains of the girl’s stepmama and dispose of her in the swamp, where hungry gators eagerly await their macabre feast. The scene is horrifying, but it is done. My mind races with the need to get back home. I need to bury the boy’s body so I can acquaint myself with the girl. Lowe. Such a strange name for a girl.

These city folk namin' their children strange names. Our babies gon have normal names.

As I head home, the weight of my actions settles upon me. How am I gonna make this girl not hate me for killing her brother and father? She might always hate me. I’m not above taking her by force, but I’d rather she be willing. It will take time, I assume. Force will initially be necessary. But once she sees we aren’t all that bad, she’ll come around.

I gotta admit, this SUV is mighty nice. The back road to the house cuts straight through the swamp and a good portion of the forest. It’s driving through the terrain with no issues at all. Too bad we can’t keep it. Thiswould be nice driving to the slaughterhouse for work. The busted up old pick-up our parents left to us don’t have no Air Con and the radio damn near doesn’t work half the time. The air in this thing blowing as cold as the Arctic.

The house and workshop come into view and instead of stopping there, I drive to the cemetery out by the trees. I don’t need that poor girl catching a glimpse of her brother’s body before I bury him. A little bit of my heart remains. Backing up slowly, I open the SUV’s hatch with a quick hit of the button overhead. On a mission to get this done quick style, I cut the engine and get out of the car. I shove the keys in my pocket and make my way to the back.

The boy’s dead weight now, his body stiff, making him hard to maneuver. I carry him over to an empty spot near one of the biggest trees. This spot gets some good sunlight and we can even put a bench for our girl to sit on if she wants to visit with him. I carefully lay his body down, then head towards the shed with shovels and equipment.

As I approach the shed, the weight of the situation settles heavily on my shoulders. I grab the shovels, feeling the cold metal in my hands. The sound of cicadas in the early morning is a welcome background noise to the thoughts swarming my head.

Returning to the makeshift gravesite, I take a deep breath to steady myself. The ground feels soft beneath my boots, a stark contrast to the weight of the shovel in my hands. I dig, each shovel full of earth a physical manifestation of the pain I’ve carried for this family. The people I’ve killed for this family.

Time seems to blur as I work, sweat dripping down my forehead. The rhythmic sound of the shovel hitting the dirt becomes a mantra, pushing me forward. I dig deep, wanting to ensure a proper resting place for this girl’s brother.

Finally, the hole is deep enough. I take a moment to catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my brow. Looking down at this young boy’s body my feelings are a conflicted mess as I look at him. He done us no wrong; he was just in the way of us taking his sister.

Carefully, I lift his body and lower him into the grave. It’s a delicate dance, trying to find the right position, ensuring he rests in peace. As I cover him with the earth, I can’t help but feel a sense of guilt. It’s not the ending he deserved, but it’s the only one he got.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the freshly filled grave. It’s done.

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