Page 7 of Welcome Home
“Anything for my girl.” I whisper, pulling her in for another kiss. Hating the way my cock jerks against her. Cora is fucking weird, but goddammit if it doesn’t work for her. Thisnot ready for sexyet bullshit is half the reason I'm fucking most of her friends. I pull back lightly brushing my nose on the tip of hers, a smirk pulls at my mouth at the light pink that floods her cheeks.
Wherever you are now, Arthur, I hope you’re watching.
4
Unearthed
Sympathy for the Devil - The Rolling Stones
Lightsplaysacrossthewall from passing cars and I'm no closer to falling asleep than I was two hours ago. The wind hasn’t let up, making the tall cape cod style home groan and creek in protest. I glance over my shoulder, staring at his bare back, my eyes falling on his upper shoulder where the memorial tattoo he got for his brother rests. It’s a beautiful piece, even with the color and lines muddling with time. I remember the day he got it, he all but drug me to the shop with him shortly after we started dating. I had never been in a tattoo shop before; my mom would’ve flipped her lid if she found out he’d taken me there. Not that Oliver could do much wrong in her eyes. I’d take the brunt of the blame, no doubt. At least that’s how she felt at first, how everyone felt at first.
Things were different then.
My eyes making their billionth drag around the manicured bedroom. Everything in its perfect place, just like it always was before he left. Half of me wonders if the past few months were nothing more than a beautiful dream. I glance at the clock, three a.m. My heartbeat starts to race inside my chest. I resound myself to what I need to do. Oliver has always been a heavy sleeper; he won’t even notice. I slip myself slowly from the covers, one leg, then the other. Silently sliding out of bed. The heat of tears pricking in my eyes distracts me from the cool air blowing from the rotating fan. It blows my silk purple nightgown back, something I hadn’t bothered wearing the entire time he was gone. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, pausing every few steps to make sure he hasn’t woken up, it feels like I've shed just a fraction of the weight from my chest. It’s excruciatingly uncomfortable, but I’m breathing. My stomach churns and by the time I've reached the bottom, a new weight has settled in its place. I stop breathing again, stop living. The closer my feet draw me towards the back door, the more my heart riots in my chest. A small strangled sob escapes as I disarm the house. My hand clasped tightly over my mouth in hopes of masking the ones that follow.
This is fucking insane. I'm going fucking crazy.
My fingers fumble with the lock before wrenching the door open. Wind whips my braided hair free of its loose holder as I dart across the murky backyard, the only light coming in the form of the lightning that streaks across the sky. Even the streetlights offer no hope, no illumination as I spiral into someone…somethingI don't recognize.
But I know her. This version of me has always been there, waiting under the surface until I needed her again.
I make no attempt to hide my cries, knowing they'll be swallowed by the storm. The tears tumbling from my eyes washed away by the rain. I wrench the shed door open; the rough wooden handle of the shovel feels harsh on my palm the same way it did that night. Bolting back across the yard, my sights set on those pitiful, dying marigolds as the rain hammers their petals. The rain that feels like tiny darts on my exposed skin. A sob leaves my throat as I reach it, my hammock thrashing in the wind. I shove forward, the shovel breaks the ground, my gut curls and twists. My elbow pulls painfully with each heave, but it doesn’t bother me. My heart is unforgiving in my chest, every fiber of my being begging me to stop.
You don’t want to do this. Do I?
I have to. I have to know for sure. My crying is loud now. I know I should stop. Stay quiet, but for the life of me, I can’t. I can’t hide the chaos inside from forcing its way out. My eyes sting almost as much as my lungs as I shovel out dirt. The deeper I go, the worse I feel. The pulling in my stitches and the warm feeling pooling under the gauze tells me I’ve torn them by now. I don’t fucking care. Ineedto know that I'm not absolutely losing it. I don’t notice the footsteps or the opening door over the crack of thunder and roar of wind. A scream leaves my throat as the shovel is ripped from my hands. His warm palm quickly covers my mouth and nose as I scramble.
“You left.” He grunts as he slams my back against his chest, holding me hostage there despite my kicking. “Don’t fucking do that again.” I whimper as he drags me back towards the house.
No…no I need to know. I was so close.
I bite down on his hand, making him recoil in pain only seconds before he shoves me into the ground. My head knocks hard against the saturated soil, mud smeared over my body. I scramble to my feet, narrowly missing his grab for me as I run back towards the hole in the ground. “Please stop!” I yell as I reach it, his hand finding the back of my neck before slinging me down to the side. Lightning cracks behind his head as he slams into me, his weight pinning me from above in a way that makes my heart slam into my throat. “Let me up!”
“Why? Why do you want to do that?” He demands, his blonde hair dripping water down his chiseled face. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Cora?” The cold cutting edge to his voice softens ever so slightly. It only makes me cry harder.
“I'm going crazy. I'm… I need help. You aren’t here. You aren’t here, Oliver, and I'm not sorry! I'm not fucking sorry! I never wanted to see you again! I can’t go back to before. Oh fuck, I can’t stomach it!” The words tumble from my mouth as my chest heaves, my body trembling underneath the man that doesn’t exist. His lips find mine frantically, ignoring the way I fight against his hold. Against his kiss. Bile rises burning in my throat as I'm kissed by the source of my torment, my own demon. If this is hell, I know I’ve earned my place here.
But I want to leave all the same.
His lips mash against mine, requiring no participation on my part. He drinks me in like I’m every drop of water hidden in the desert. He pulls back, out of breath, and stares down at me with more love than I’ve ever seen in those eyes. “Cora, for fuck's sake,Ilove you. I’m here foryou. You don’t need to be sorry; you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“No, no, I was married to Oliver Neilson for almost ten years and never, not once, did he ever love me!”
He stops inhaling deeply before leaning down, pressing his forehead to mine. Sheltering me from the worst of the rain as it pounds against his back, my legs trapped between his. I can feel the swell of his length there. I can’t bite the shutter it brings. He takes another breath and I think I'm going to pass out before he kisses the tip of my nose, abruptly shoving away from me. My heart races as I watch him walk to the garden and picking up the shovel in one deft movement. My arms wrap around my legs as he begins to dig, a darkness in his expression that rocks me to my core. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you’ll forgive me, give me a chance, Cora. I’ll be better than he ever was.”
I nod, but we both know I don’t mean it. Seems sillyhimasking for forgiveness, considering what I did.
The rain lightens only for a moment; the drops clinging to his flushed skin. The way his muscles ripple and flex underneath makes my heart flutter. I don’t know how long it takes. Couldn’t have been more than a few minutes by the time he stands upright. Staring into the hole, vomit creeps back up my throat, taking up permanent residence there. That doesn’t stop me from crawling forward, not trusting my legs to carry my weight. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly before peeling them open again. I look up at him when my eyes are only met with dirt. The hope I had expected to feel absent from my chest and in its place dread. The smell slams into me like a brick wall.
You can’t be him. You can’t.
He clinches his fists, working his jaw. He looks… angry with me. “Why do you need to seehimso fucking bad? I can be so much better than he ever was to you, Cora. I already am. You’re fucking mine now, not his. You don’t fucking need to be afraid of him anymore. I'm here.” He tosses the shovel down, before kneeling to lean deep into the hole. I don’t make a sound, I don’t so much as flinch as the sound of snapping bone fills the night air. He jerks up a decomposing head. Its fatty tissue looks burned, sunken in to show every horrible crease and divot. Strands of hair clinging to what used to be skin at the top as his fingers dig into what’s left. Oliver’s handsome, chiseled face is sunken and rotted, his wavy blonde hair matted with gore and lime.
“He’s dead my love. Right where you left him.”
