Page 39 of Fatally Yours
“Come on, baby. It’s not like it’ll hurt,” he assured. “I know you’re still mad at me for killing you, so use that gorgeous anger of yours. Prove this asshole wrong. Then I’ll destroy him for putting his hands on you.” I hated to think about what could’ve happened had August not been there. Or how he had done similar actions to other women before. That probably wasn’t the first time he took things too far, either. Just thinking about it made me want to sink my nails into him.
Using that fury to fuel myself, I sucked in a breath and, without hesitation, lunged forward and sank the knife right into August’s stomach—exactly as he did to me. Much to my relief, he didn’t even flinch. In fact, there was a satisfied smile on his face as I wrenched it from his gut.
Even though I knew he wouldn’t bleed, it was still strange not to see the steady flow of crimson that would’ve followed had he been alive. When I glanced at Officer Wilson, his eyes were as wide as saucers, watching in horror as I symbolically took my anger out on him and mended our bond.
“Again,” he demanded. Without a hint of resistance, I stepped forward, using my weight to plunge the blade into him again, this time just below his ribcage. My throat tightened when I thought I had nicked one of his bones. And just like before, his expression never changed. Just as I pulled the weapon from him again, I saw the officer’s face twist out of the corner of my eye. This wasn’t just a prank as he thought, and the realization was hitting him faster than I had stabbed August. “Again, baby. Like I did to you that night.”
I nodded, feeling my emotions flutter in my chest as I thrust the knife into him, once, twice, three times, and more until his shirt was full of puckered holes, and I lost count of the number of times I did the cruel deed. And itfelt fucking good. It felt like revenge. The wounds I inflicted on him would heal over in a few moments, and we would have matching scars for eternity.
“What the fuck…” The officer’s face paled as I ripped the knife from his chest a final time, feeling myself almost want to habitually huff as I would have in life. Stabbing someone was not as easy as it looked in the movies.
“My god, that was beautiful,” August said with a smirk. I still gripped the blade in my hand, feeling a sick buzz go through my body. Perhaps his praise made me hunger for more, but I wanted to see him exert his power over a man who wronged me once again. Then he turned to our victim.
“It’s nice to be the one with the power now, huh, officer?” he snickered. “I get it now. It’s almost hard not to get drunk on it.” Officer Wilson was stunned into silence, his mouth flapping open and shut. His eyes darted from August’s polka-dotted torso to the sparkling blade in my quivering hand and back again.
“So tell me, when’s your wife coming back?” he inquired. The officer shook his head quickly, once again yanking on his ties.
“S-she’s out of town, but you don’t need to bring her into this,” he pleaded as his arms went limp again. “Please don’t bring her into this. Whatever this is.”
“Revenge.” August reached his hand out. “That’s what this is. Nothing more, nothing less.” On command, I passed the knife to him, watching the sunlight bounce off the sparkling metal. “I don’t like men who treat women poorly or harass people they think are below them,” he said, staring down at the blade like he was hypnotized by it.
“I-I’m sorry…”
“It’s not me you need to be apologizing to. You tried to hurt Natasha. And you shouldn’t piss off people who have nothing to lose, including their lives.” The officer turned to me with pleading eyes, looking for mercy, and somehow, I couldn’t find any. He could’ve subjected me to a lifetime of trauma had August not stepped in.
“I-I’m sorry, Natasha. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.” Averting my gaze, I confirmed that I could not forgive him after everything he did. August cracked a smile, taking a step forward.
“I think it’s time you get a taste of your own medicine,” he said. My chest was bound with anxiety, but just like before, there was a hint of excitement. I knew what was coming. No amount of anticipation had prepared me to watch someone perish. Even though he damn well deserved it. We were doing the world a favor by taking him out of it.
“Listen, if this is because of the stuff I do with the girls, I’ll stop. I promise. I’ll even quit the force. Please, I don’t want to die,” he begged. August’s signature smile only wore away at my worries, making a strange calm wash over me. We were bound in blood and secured by death. Then he flicked away the blade, and a familiar, blood-splattered hammer appeared in his grasp. His speed was faster than the blink of an eye.
“It’s kinda ironic, isn’t it? You didn’t make my death a priority, but I made yours the first thing I wanted to do when I got back.” His mismatched eyes snapped to me, then to the weapon in his hand. “Besides keeping the love of my life with me and slaughtering her scummy boyfriend.” Whatever color remained in Officer Wilson’s face drained. A sick thrill ran through me, thinking how funny it was that I was just the one terrified only a few moments earlier.
“Y-you’ve done this before?”
“A few times. But not nearly as often as you’ve tried to fuck on the job. Practice makes perfect, as they say,” August said. Rage was coursing through my body as I remembered his violating hands and the way he pressed himself upon me for his own sick pleasure. My patience was running thin. August was dragging this out way too much, allowing him to beg and plead when he didn’t allow anyone else the same luxury. Stepping up, I turned to him.
“Quit fucking around and give this asshole what he deserves,” I said flatly, feeling my nails digging into my palms. Like before, there was no pain, and I almost thought the lack of it was fueling my emotions. August raised a brow as a surprised but satisfied look crossed his face.
“I didn’t think you could get any more perfect, but here we are,” he beamed, walking over and giving me a kiss. I remained stoic, waiting impatiently for him to enact our revenge. That’s what this was—ourrevenge. He stepped up to the still-bound officer as he trembled.
“G-god would make you two right,” he said in one last act of defiance. My jaw clenched, thinking about his pathetic plea, and August chuckled at his ridiculous assertion. He gave me one final glance as I nodded, affirming what I needed him to do. He turned back to him and spoke the last words he would ever hear.
“Hey fucker,” he said coldly. “Your headlight’s out.” Officer Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by August raising the hammer above his head and bringing it down onto his rounded skull. A spray of dark blood scattered across his face as the man cried out, exacerbated as his cranium caved into itself in a sickeningly beautiful act of revenge. His hands were fighting against the binds, causing the joist above to tremble with his weight, but to no avail.
Again and again, just like he commanded me to do a moment before, he drew back the weapon and brought it down in a display of pure, ecstasy-inducing power. Officer Wilson’s pale bones popped and splattered with shades of pink and red as it dribbled down his revolting face and to the floor, pooling beneath his feet. My tongue felt dry in my mouth, but for some strange reason, the sight made me want to grab August and kiss him.
His porcelain skull shattered like ceramic, and hollow sounds reverberated through the room, each one sending a chill down my spine. The shine of his brain matter glinted in the low light, catching my eye as I watched it fly through the air. And yet, I felt nothing but glee. If anything, watching it was much more thrilling than anything I had ever experienced.
XIX
August spent the rest of the day searching through Officer Wilson’s house, picking up various valuables and rifling through boxes of paperwork in hopes of finding any information on the person who killed him. Every so often, I thought I could hear his melodic voice serenading himself.
I was curled on the couch after washing our clothes, listening to the sounds of him shuffling until it would hopefully put me to sleep—even if I hadn’t slept since the initial night of normalcy. I didn’t want to think about what we did earlier that morning, let alone how I encouraged it or the idea that there was a dead body just a few feet away from me.
The hostility of death was creeping up on me faster thanI could comprehend, and I hoped I would learn how to tame it before it got out of hand. That was the only thing I could ever be jealous of August for—the self-control that he had in death.
My head was buried in my knees again as footsteps emerged from the other room. When I looked up, he was holding a thick file with a blank expression. I knew exactly what it was. He didn’t acknowledge me as he tossed it onto the counter, flipped it open, and glared at it. The silence was deafening, but it was the most important quiet we would ever have. No singing, no talking, not even the birds were chirping—stark, enveloping silence.
