Page 26 of Welcome Home
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She swallows hard as I approach, Rachel having already beggared off elsewhere to have her mental breakdown in private.
How very thoughtful.
I can smell Cora again before I see her. Just knowing she’s close puts me a little more at ease. I wipe my hand across my face casually, correcting the seam before the light reaches me. The detective to her credit, stands her ground. “Odd seeing you here tonight, detective. I wasn’t aware you knew anyone in the area.”
She takes another step back, her heel hitting a decorative plastic rock. Perfect.
My nails extrude as I reach out, slicing a small chunk from her arm as she rocks back, hissing in pain. “What the hell?”
“Those rocks have gotten me a time or two. Gotta watch your step.” I shoot her a smile I hope looks inviting as she lifts her arm towards her face. “Oh, damn, looks like my watch nicked you. My apologies, detective. We’ve got a first aid kit in the house.”
She stares down at the small bloody gash, her chest rising and falling quickly as I pull her skin underneath Oliver’s for safekeeping. “Uh no. It’s alright I was just coming to say hi before I left. My wife is expecting me.”
Sure she is detective.
“Cora my love.” I say, far too adoringly as she approaches, her shaking hands hidden behind her. She only nods at the shaken woman in front of us. “It’s really no trouble. I am a surgeon, after all. I think I can handle a band aid and some Neosporin.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Have a good night,” She doesn’t say it to me, she says it to Cora and every fiber of my being screams to cut her down.
You’re playing a stupid game detective, and I cannot wait to hand deliver your stupid prize.
11
Cataclysmic
911 - Ellise
Cora
Vo-Oliveris tense as we make our goodbye rounds, his arm clasped so tightly around my waist I take every breath with a slight gasp. My earlier jealousy pushed to the back burners where it’s always stayed,where it belongs. Soon enough, the bite of it will pass. Everything passes.
I remind myself that as I watch him shed the aloof confident arrogance that made Oliver,Oliver. People are watching us closely, each set of eyes adding to the dumbbell resting on my chest. Why was the detective here? Why does that seem to have unsettled the chronically cool and controlled monster at my side? And why the fuck was he with that fucking cu-
Backburner Cora.
By the time we make it back into my designer prison to say my heart is hammering in my chest would be the understatement of a lifetime. Sweat is dotting my exposed back. My knees are weak but they hold me up, anyway. Oliver releases me standing at the end of the stairway, his back tense, the muscles standing out as if they were carved into him by gods. That unwelcome heat floods my core, but with it comes that ugly green demon. The smear of pink lipstick on his neck makes vomit well in my throat. It’s like the first time I caught Oliver all over again. It was my best friend; it was the last time I ever spoke to her, and the last time I ever tried to surprise my fiancé with anything.
His hands fisted so hard his knuckles are white and if I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was fighting some gargantuan battle underneath that fake skin. Suddenly my back burners are nonexistent. All those years of being shit on bubbling up towards the surface like a geyser.Again. My ears are ringing and he seems so far away. I force my eyes to the stairs, the notch at the bottom. History is repeating itself, all for him.
Because of him.
Vosz should’ve fucked off when I told him to. Stayed away and let the dead bastard stay dead. Let those hurt feelings stay dead. My wedge heels clack on the hardwood as my feet carry me towards the kitchen. This time, I’m not taking a backseat to the gross thoughts that fester inside me. I’m front and center. Right now, I don’t give a fuck about my future or the police. I don’t give a fuck about the neighbors or my marigolds. Right now… all I feel is heat bubbling up in my chest like a volcano. I give a fuck about all Vosz’s promises that sounded so beautiful, so tempting, just like the original version did all those years ago.
History is repeating itself. This time I won't be a fucking punch line. Not for all the freedom in the world.
He’s still standing there, struggling with something. I can feel his rage pulsing off him in droves. It seems me and the monster have a lot in common. I’m not paying attention to what I grab, but the weight of it is familiar in my palm. Welcome. Like this sharp little tool was placed there in preparation to solve every bad emotion needling my chest.
I bring my hand down the moment he turns on me, his eyes lit pale and opaque. I move fast, burying the kitchen knife in his forearm the moment he brings it up to block his neck. He moves so quickly it knocks me off balance, because this isn’t Oliver. It’s Vosz and he was ready for me.Anticipating me.He shoves me back, my grip popping free from the handle of the knife as my back slams into the accent table in the short hall. I barely hear the shattering of the glass vase there before he’s on me. His hand on my throat as I’m hauled against him.
“Really love?” He growls, his voice lingering with an echoing inhuman quality. Our faces are inches apart, his hands rough hold loosening enough to slide up towards my chin, his thumb caressing my lips. I bite at him, but he moves out of the way far faster than I can track. He’s on the stairs again, but this time he’s not struggling anymore and he’s not Oliver.
The tanned skin has a gray quality, like he’s not trying to uphold the illusion of life. His milky, pupal free eyes trained on me, a hunger burning there that soaks my underwear despite my rage. It gives the illusion that he can’t see, but the cock tented in his pants tells me he’s not missing a thing. Another eerie growl leaves his throat as he jerks the knife free from his arm, the rich blue blood dripping onto the hardwood. When he opens his mouth to speak, I hold up a hand, stopping whatever piece of shit words he was going to spew.
I was wrong about keeping up appearances; I was wrong when I thought I could swallow it.
“Did she feel as good to you as she did to him, Vosz?” My words leave me in pants, my chest heaving. Each one imbued with the venom… the hurt I was never brave enough to show Oliver. Not until the very end.
