Page 9 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

I watch and wait, not moving until I see him go back into the house.

Dropping my cig to the ground and stomping it out, Ihead back to Tash. Glancing at her battered torso, I try to sort what the carved cross means. It’s only part of our logo, why not do it all? And why does it have to be on my fucking car? Rolling my eyes, with my hands on my hips, dread hits. This is going to be a long fucking night. Scooping her up from under her arms, I drag her off the hood. Tash’s mutilated body falls limp to the ground. Dragging her to the woods out back is the only option I have. I’m a tough bitch, but carrying a dead body lumberjack style that far isn’t happening.

Hooking my arms under hers I begin our journey to the backwoods for a romantic evening together. Peering toward my parents’ home once more, the dread is followed by guilt. I hate keeping secrets from him.

Only the devil knows what he would do if I didn’t.

And I can’t expect Mom to keep this from Dad either, as it’s not fair to them, so I’ll sacrifice and keep this knowledge and burden to myself for as long as fucking possible.

Tash’s heels glide effortlessly along the thick grass as we allow the stars and moon to guide us to her final resting place. Looking down, dried blood stains her and she is absolutely stunning like this. I feel sweat begin to drip down my forehead, and I tilt my head back up so it doesn’t slide into my eyes. My feet move faster across the yard and soon shadows of large trees begin to peer over us.

Twigs and dried leaves crack under my steps, and branches stick out, grazing my body as we maneuverthroughout the thick brush. Taking a deep breath, fresh mountain air fills my lungs and my eyes close.Home. Nostalgia washes over me. I remember the first body my dad showed me how to bury in the back of Papa’s woods all those years ago. The night was similar to tonight and I remember my heart racing with excitement, because finally I was old enough to learn.

The guy was a traitor, a pest. He deserved to die. And anyone who is against us is a pest who must be dealt with.

We broke into his home in the middle of the night. Walked down the long, narrow hallway of his double-wide before slowly opening his bedroom door so it wouldn’t creak or alarm our sleeping victim. It felt like hours, but patience is important. Good things come to those who wait, and Dad was right, it did. Once we got in, everything moved so quickly. I jumped on the bed and straddled his waist with a knife in my hand. Dad slapped him once across the cheek so he would wake up. Missing your own death is a sin, obviously.

As the pest’s eyes opened, I smiled down at him with excitement and sliced his throat from ear to ear. Warm, thick, red blood gushed out immediately, coating my hands and the sheets. The pest coughed a few times, splatter decorating my face and clothing. I felt so fucking alive.

Once he was dead, Dad leaned over, his baseball bat in the air, unused. “Baby Sin, congratulations.”

That was my first solo kill and if you kill someone,you’ve got to know how to clean up. Dad helped carry the body in plastic wrap, so as not to make a mess in his trunk. And together, in the woods at Papa’s, we dug the hole and dumped him in an unmarked grave. The night smelt just like tonight, and my body relaxes, finding comfort in the memory.

I was eleven. It was my birthday.

We arrive at my spot, where I put others who matter from over the years. We are deep into the brush now, silence surrounding us with the odd hoot of an owl or the howl of a coyote echoing through the trees. Lowering Tash to the ground, gently, because she is one of us, and not a fucking pest like the others, my eyes roam the area until they see what I need. My shovel. It’s leaning against the same tree I left it on, the sharp pick shining as the moonlight breaks through the thick leaf-filled branches, guiding me to what I need. More foliage crunch under my feet as I go to grab my tool, the cool metal a welcome relief to my already sore hands from dragging her body. Walking back to Tash, I notice her eyes are still open. A glint of light bounces off them as I bend down. Placing my free hand on her forehead, I brush it down over her eyes, pushing her lids closed.

Now she is at rest.

Blowing out a deep sigh, I rise and start digging. No point in prolonging it any further.

Hours have passed,I’m five feet into the ground, covered in dirt and excess sweat. My lungs huff deep breaths and my arms shake from exhaustion. Throwing my shovel over the edge, I brace myself next and pull my five-foot-two frame up. I could never dig the traditional six feet like my dad. I would end up stuck and likely dead after a few days.

Ironic, don’t you think?

Kneeling next to Tash, I put both hands under her cold torso and roll her into her forever place. A loud thud follows and my face winces. “Sorry!”

Now, the painful process of filling the hole commences. But I found a quicker way than using a shovel. A large, long shop broom. And I just happened to have one next to where my shovel was. Grabbing it next, I start sweeping the dirt.

I figure it’ll take half the time and will help my shaking arms rest, even just for a little while. My heart still races but I am determined to finish this tonight. Glancing up between sweeps, oranges and pinks start to fill the sky. Morning is upon us and my eyes instantly grow heavy. Adrenaline is wearing off, but I am nearly done.

As the last bit of earth finds its new home, then I drop the broom next to me and grip a bunch of wild flowers from next to my feet, placing them on top of Tash’s grave. Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, words start to flow out of me, in memory of our fallen.

“Tash, you were one of the coolest people I got tomeet and watch work. Truly a victim of circumstances, and I am so fucking sorry for that.” Shaking my head, I slide my glasses back over my eyes. “I’m sorry you died on top of my car, though at least it was a Bentley, so it was kind of cute?” Looking down at the pile of compacted fresh earth, I admit this finally needs to be said out loud. “I was always jealous of your great tits, they always screamed ‘welcome to Bozeman’. May you and the girls rest in peace… and enjoy your time in my woods. Please haunt those little fuckers who snuck in and did this to you.” Looking around, I shout, “Yeah, you dumbasses, I see you!”

I don’t, actually. But if they are lurking, I want them to think otherwise, because every part of me doesn’t want to believe my brother did this. To leave creepy notes is one thing, but this body is a first and surely not the last. Then why torment me directly and not my dad, who he despises? Perhaps it's because I am about to take over, but so many people depend on us to provide for their families, he knows that. Fuck.

Looking down at the palm of my hand, the raised scar is a reminder of our bond, our promise. Everything points to Blaise, but my gut is screaming to not believe it.

Regardless, I’ll always protect him until the day we both die.

Together.

6

SID

Morning has passed. The day is old and my bed is empty next to me.

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