Page 50 of Eternal

“I will be your death,” I whisper as I walk away from him.

I turn to the toolbox, pulling out a rag to wipe off the blood. I have to be done for tonight. I’ll kill him prematurely otherwise. I pull up the cameras of the house and find Freya lying on the couch watching TV, stuck between sleep and alertness.

“Derek, I need your shirt and jacket,” I say without even looking at him.

“Boss, really? My jacket?” He grumbles.

“Yes, really. Freya is awake, and she knows I left out the front door. And I can’t go through the front door covered in blood, can I?” I spit at him.

“Whatever you say.” Derek shakes off his jacket and shirt. They almost swallow me, but they’ll have to do, for now.

“See you tomorrow, Tristan. Have sweet dreams, and please think about my question.” I call back as I make my way back to where we entered.

I hear Derek’s voice, but I don’t stick around to pay attention to what he says. I make my way to the front door, and when I open it, the sound of some show plays, and occasionally Freya giggles quietly. I toss my keys into the bowl in our foyer before making my way to her. Her eyes are glued to me, but I’m not ready to look at her. Not when I’m covered in the motherfucker’s blood under this jacket. I just watch the TV for a moment before turning back to the bathroom to wash my sins away.

I don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, the pressure to find him I’ve felt deep inside me is gone, leaving me craving more of his blood spilled. I put on some clothes and return to the living room to take Freya to bed. It’s late. And she needs to sleep in a bed. The couch is bad for her back.

I bend over and turn the TV off before picking her up. She’s so light. Lighter than she was when we left for our honeymoon.She needs to eat more.But it is my fault she hasn’t taken care of herself as she should. I rest my cheek on her forehead as I move down the hall to the bedroom.I’ve missed her.I tried so hard to keep us apart, but it seems we are worse off separate than we are together. I set her in bed and cover her up before crawling over to my side. I move closer and pull her to my chest, keeping her safe. And for the first time in a while, I sleep.

Chapter twenty-two

Freya

Iwokeupaloneagain. I peek over at the clock on the nightstand. Twelve pm.

Fuck I slept in late.

A piece of white paper catches my eye alongside a fresh glass of water.

Freya,

I have business to attend to today in Denver. I will join you for dinner tonight.

x Soren

He could just text me if I had a damn phone. I made a mental note to get a phone by the end of the week. I’ve missed being able to connect with the outside world. After I get ready for the day, I decide to spend it in the basement, enjoying the movie theater-worthy setup. The only amenity I haven’t used yet.

It’s getting boring not being able to leave and not having anything to do is starting to get tedious. My little moment of inspiration is gone, leaving me with writer’s block, yet again. Maybe I can try the cross-stitching pattern I found on Pinterest, but that’ll only keep me entertained for so long. And the further I find myself drawn into books, the harder it is to reconnect back to reality.

The day drags on, and I hear the front door shut. Soren must be home. I listen to him make his way to the bedroom, down the other hall towards his office, and then to the kitchen. The soft voices of Luci and Soren conversing bring life to the house.

I stay put, too lazy to get up and go to him. The smell of some excellent dinner wafts into the basement, and my stomach growls. Soren’s steps retreat down the stairs.

“There you are,” He mutters under his breath as he plops down next to me in his recliner. “What movie is this?” He asks with a genuine interest in his voice as the decapitated head rolls across the screen.

“Hereditary. It’s a really good horror movie,” I say to him, glancing in his direction.

He keeps his eyes glued to the screen, and I peer over at him from the corner of my eye. He’s dressed in a formal suit today, but his tie is loosened around his neck. My eyes trail to his long fingers, examining his hands, remembering what I discovered yesterday. His left hand has minor cuts that litter the palm, probably from the shattered glass from last night, and his right... Well, his right hand’s knuckles are destroyed. Worn down to what looks like bone on his middle finger.

What the fuck did he do last night?

I open my mouth to question him when he catches me staring at his hands. He quickly stands and stalks back up the stairs without another word.

This man is going to be the fucking death of me.I sigh, turning the movie off, and make my way up the stairs. We met again at the top of the stairs as if he was going to come back to me.

“I got you something today.” He produces a phone from his pocket.

I take it. “I was going to ask you about this tonight. Thanks.”

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