Page 17 of Strangled
I scoff and click my phone off, the bright light making the blackness around me feel much darker.
It feels incomplete—the story of this house. The murder happened years ago, but when it did, I remember the hush-hush of everyone being shocked. Because of the double homicide, yes, but also because ofwhowas killed.
No one really knew who the Marius’s were. They kept to themselves, rarely leaving their house. It’s the reason why their deaths took so long to be discovered.
More so than that, was the evidence of someone else living in the house. Only the police have access to the files on what was discovered, but someone in the paper must have gotten a scoop because there was a brief mention of adult male clothes in a different size than Mr. Marius, along with old boxes of children’s clothes.
Now that I’ve read the articles I never bothered to before, I’m sure that’s how the rumor of their “deranged son” got started. No one even knows who he is—or was—but now he’s been declared a murderer because people love to tie everything up into a neat little bow for their own sanity.
I, on the other hand, like things a bit messy.
EIGHT
There’s someone in the walls.
He’sbeenwatching me; I’m sure of it now.
Nothing about what’s going on makes any fucking sense, but at the same time, pieces are fitting together in more ways than one, and my mind runs wild with the theories. Because that’s all they are… right?
I close my eyes—not that it makes much of a difference—and ruminate on the mere fabrications I’ve concocted as a result of the unexplainable circumstances I’ve witnessed the last couple of hours.
The longer I sit, wallowing in my own paranoia, the deeper my resolve becomes.
The Marius’s son is alive—if he even is their son—and he’s here, living in the fucking walls,watchingme—protectingme.
I shake my head fervently.No, not protecting,I try to convince myself. He’s practically a fucking stalker, on top of being a fugitive. He’s taken advantage of my drunkenness by putting his hands on me, making me come so fucking good…
“Goddamnit,” I grunt, and shove to my feet, making a hasty exit to the door. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but surely I have to do something—say something?
What would I even say?Hey, Cade, Iris. Yeah, I just figured out there’s someone living in the walls. But not just anyone—it’s the Marius’s son. Yes, he’s alive, and he’s been stalking me since I moved in. How do I know that? Oh, just the strange noises I’ve been hearing.
Oh, I also willingly put my cock into a random fucking hole in the wall and let him suck my dick until I came down his throat. No big fucking deal.
Cadence would never fucking let me hear the end of it.
And for some reason I can’t even begin to fathom, I don’twantto share this. Selfishly, I want to keep it—him—all to myself.
I shake my head and release a shaky breath, running my hand back and forth over my short hair as I step out into the hall. I can’t lock the fucking door because the handle’s busted now, but I don’t think anyone’s going to be coming back in here any time soon.
Because of him.
Jesus fucking Christ, I need to get him out of my head.
But how do I do that when I feel his presence all around me? Eyes burning into the back of my head, fingers scratching along the wall. Never showing me his face, merely letting me know here’s here—so close, but so far.
I can’t help but wonder if he actually did kill his parents. And if he did—why? What did they do to warrant such violent, passionate behavior? Weretheythe deranged ones, or am I simply looking for an excuse?
Everyone seems to have dispersed from upstairs, leaving it eerily quiet despite the noise echoing from below.
As I near the stairs, my eyes scanning the wooden walls—more specifically, the cracks between the slats—my thoughts flicker back to a hot, wet mouth wrapped around me, hands gripping me so tightly, it ached. How can something so fucked feel so good?
I should’ve known then something was wrong. I think a part of me did, but in the moment, nothing felt better than that mouth.
Feeling all too sober, I rush down the staircase, dragging my eyes from the walls to follow the orange light as it wraps along the staircase, getting brighter with my descent. I jump full swing back into the party, as if the last… however long didn’t fucking happen.
Iwantto say I wish it didn’t, but that would be a lie.
With every shot I swallow, the haze in my mind deepens, yet the recent revelations I was hoping to veil only seem heavier—more prominent.
