Page 30 of Depraved Truths

Wait, no, I don’t. I don’t need any romantic entanglements. I don’t. I really don’t.

Maybe it will ring true if I chant that in my head long enough. I have to admit, I do feel lonely sometimes. I’ve been living alone for years now, and the few casual flings I’ve had never fully satisfied me.

Last night was incredible. Eli is the only man who’s ever made me feel this way. The way he looks at me, the way he works his fingers and his dick. I can’t remember the last time my body felt sosatiated, so rested.

Did sleeping in his arms last night really keep the nightmares away? The only thing that has ever kept them at bay is after I’ve eliminated a target, and even then I’m lucky to go a couple of weeks without the nightmares. The intrusive thoughts, on the other hand, never completely go away, not for long, at least. I often wonder how different things would have been hadhenever happened. Had my parents not abandoned me when I needed them the most? Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way.

I never thought I would become a killer, but then again, does anyone who finds themselves wandering down this dark path? The first time I took a life it had been an accident. An accident I have never once regretted.

It happened back when I was nineteen. Life had been going my way, and I felt happy for the first time in a long time. I had entered my second semester at college, and while my mother had attempted to reach out consistently for over a year, she had finally taken the hint to leave me alone.

And in those months is when I began a relationship with the tall, dark, and handsome Brady Collins. Starting pitcher on the baseball team, and the most gorgeous male specimen I had ever encountered. Brady had bumped into me in the cafeteria one day. Never one to trust strangers, especially men, it took him a little while to win me over. It was also hard for me, the self-proclaimed introvert, to believe that someone like Brady could actually be interested in pursuing a relationship.

But win me over he did, and never once did he make me feel uncomfortable. Always the gentleman, Brady would take me on dates where we would have a lovely dinner and then end the nightwith long romantic walks where he held my hand as we discussed our hopes and dreams.

Then the beach trip happened.

We had been dating for four months when the idea to visit the beach for Spring Break came to him. There were to be several of us, including his teammates and their girlfriends. It sounded perfect, and, in my naive head, the right time to take our relationship to the next level. I wanted my first ‘real’ time to be with Brady. He had been nothing but patient, never pressuring me to do more than I could handle.

One of the things Brady and I bonded over in the beginning was how we were both what you would like to call trust fund babies. Neither of us liked to flaunt our comfortable status in life, but when Brady told me he had rented a small yacht for us to have a quiet, luxurious overnight excursion together, I wasn’t surprised. We enjoyed hanging out with our friends, but there were moments when we wanted to spend time together alone.

It makes me sick to think of how excited I had been, even going out and purchasing some sexy lingerie to wear under my incredibly tight red strappy dress. Brady had told me to meet him at the bar close to the dock, and when I arrived to see him and his friends waiting, I couldn’t help but be a little smug when the group gawked as I approached.

But I shouldn’t have been paying attention to that. I should have noticed how Brady’s eyes appeared dilated, or how his friend Garrett handed him a small baggie before we left. None of it mattered to me then. I was too excited. Arriving at the yacht we were greeted by the captain, and a perky red-headed staff member holding a tray with champagne. Money changes everything in thisworld. When you have it, you can make the rules and break the rules, and that night the staff proved they understood.

Anything we wanted they gave us, including privacy, and after tossing our luggage off in the primary we found a sumptuous meal waiting on the top deck. When we finished, I found myself tipsy from the few glasses of champagne that I had consumed, but again, I ignored any good sense I might have possessed, and went excitedly with Brady to watch the sunset.

Up on the top deck, yet another perfect setting waited. Instead of champagne we had wine waiting, and with nary a staff member in sight, we made ourselves comfortable on the plush cushions of the larger lounger.

The memory of what happened next burns, and while it’s a moment I don’t regret, the residual emotions left behind continue to hold a sharp sting to it. The first kill is always the hardest, with the rest falling into the carved out pieces of your soul as they attempt to fill the void they created by those who make us into the monsters everyone fears.

However, make no mistake.

Brady had it coming.

Uncorking the bottle, Brady pours us each a glass of the heady red wine.His bloodshot eyes feast on me as he does, and the warmth from the blanket he’s laid on the cushions keeps me warm when a chill coasts over me at the hunger I see there.

But I ignore it, and reaching for my hand I allow him to hold on, as I slide off my heels. Shaking off the snap of unease I settle in, and know that this is it. This is our moment.

My heart pounds, and my palms embarrassingly sweat when the nerves kick in. I’d heard of liquid courage, and go for my wine glass, gulping down the contents as he does the same.

Not knowing what else to do, I blurt out the truth. “I want you, Brady.”

Reaching for me, he takes my lips, and I eagerly let him slip his tongue into my mouth. We kiss for a moment, and it feels…. nice. A slow burn begins to build, and I pull back to take a deep breath.

The heat that had been in his gaze cools instantly, and he pushes me down on the cushions. I’m totally taken aback, and when his hand begins its steady creep up my thigh, my insides recoil in disgust.

“It’s okay, sleeping beauty.”

That voice. Those words. It’s like he’s reached into my deepest, darkest depths and is attempting to conquer me by using the worst moment of my life against me.

“I’m a little nervous, Brady,” I stammer, making an excuse so I can get ahold of my emotions. “Can we take it slow?”

“Haven’t we been taking it slow for quite a while now?” he snarls. “I’m fucking sick of taking it slow. It’s time you give it up, Tess.”

Brady has never so much as raised his voice at me in anger before, and to hear him snap like this causes tears to roll down my cheek.“I’m sorry—”

He slams his hand across my mouth, shoving me back down again. In one swipe, he tears the front of my pretty new dress open, and roughly grabs a breast, squeezing it until I’m crying harder, only no one can hear my screams since they’re muffled by his hand.

---