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Heather wraps her arms around me, Dad sitting against the wall. Her hands on my arms with a smile on her face, aiming the gun for me. He looks at me with dulling blue eyes, his voice rising gently.
“Son… son, I’m sorry…” he hisses, blood running down from the side of his head, “I know… I know I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there and you’re angry and you blame me, I get it.” he looks at his gun.
“Go on, Cassie, take the shot.” Heather commands, her lips brushing against my neck, kissing it. She looks at my father with that cocky smile. Dad continues despite her.
“You’re hurt. I know you are.” he smiles, “Put the gun down, Cassidy.”
“No can do, officer.” Heather sighs, “He’s made his choice, right honey?”
I stand, hands sweaty, knees weak, she’s holding me up and the gun is still trained on him. I can’t… I can’t, he’s my dad. What am I doing? Duke, Veronica, J.D… McNamara… Kurt and Ram, all of them are dead because of me. I had the evidence, I had everything I needed to put J.D and Veronica away, I had everything to put Heather away, if I had just LISTENED to my gut the first day in Westerberg and never took up with her…!
They’d be alive, they’d be here. Dicks all, but still here.
I couldn’t save any of them but I had to try. It’s the right thing, the idealistic thing, I… I finger the trigger, Heather tensing behind me with her body pressing up against me. Something sharp jabs gently into my back, Heather’s hand still on the gun, mallet on the floor.
“Do it, baby…” she urges.
“Cassidy, you have a choice…” Dad groans, “You either let go of the gun or become what she wants you to be.”
“Don’t let this beat you…” he wheezes, “Put a bullet in my head and I’ll come back an’ haunt you.”
Closing my eyes, tears streaming down my face, “I’m sorry, Dad…” my voice cracks, “I’m so sorry…” I squeeze the trigger, the shots ringing like dark wedding bells. The nightmare comes screaming back, the killer looming over me, leaving me alive to spread the disease even more.
The gun drops and I fall to my knees, letting a scream rip from my throat before I burst into wracking sobs. Clutching my hands to my chest and just letting my cries carry me. Heather kneels down in front of me, taking out some tissues and drying my tears.
I almost jerk back but she doesn’t let me, “There… it’s all over, baby.” she says, a small smile on her face and pulling me close, “Sssshhh… It’s okay. It’s okay.” she gets back up, her hands fitted with new gloves as she puts the gun in my dad’s hand, making it look like he did it himself.
Heather turns to me, her brilliant smile not matching her eyes, “After all that, I think you deserve a reward!”
The streetlights flick by through the glass, Heather and I sitting next to each other in her full gas tank Porsche. She got the plates changed and everything. The car’s paint has changed too. She keeps herself calm.
“Cassie,” she says, snapping me out of my haze, “Look at me.”
I look at her and she’s cleaned herself up with the mallet burnt to ashes and all traces of the fire she used to burn it all squared away. She used my books and all my research. Even the evidence I collected to make some twisted game out of all of this.
But she drives on, “You know I love you, right?”
Nod.
“And you know why I did what I did, right?”
“Because you hated them?”
Heather’s gaze chills me down to the bone, “Right, good boy.”
Staring out the window, I look over at her, “What now?” she turns on California Dreamin’ and I just shatter again. Crying my eyes out. My dad didn’t deserve- the car jerks to the shoulder.
“Aaahg! Just stop. Stop stop stop.” Heather snarls, “I know what you did was hard, but stop crying like a little baby, okay?!” her glare burns into me and I quiet down. Her hand grabs mine and she squeezes it.
“Cass, I’m sorry.” she unbuckles her seatbelt and crawls into my lap, “I know you’ve been through a lot.” Heather removes her red sweater, red lacy bra exposed and another cocky smirk takes over her face.
“Let me fix that, okay?”
She and I are one, close quarters making it tough not to be. She still feels amazing, every move plunges me deeper into the throes of pleasure, every soft encouragement goading me into the moaning, blushing idiot.
“You’re beautiful, honey.” she moans, burying her face into my shoulder, covering it in red lipstick, every kiss burning like fire. Her hands soft and smooth, her body well muscled despite not wanting to be.
She had the best laid plans. Her eyes blazing with that lustful, enraged inferno. Just the idea of her losing me wasn’t on the table. Uncompromising, domineering, every second of every day reflected on her. I revolved around her. I needed to live for her because, “We’re beautiful.” That one sentence defines everything about me and Heather Chandler. I can’t leave, I can’t just go. She feels soft, gentle, giving me all I wanted.
But then she’d turn around and kill. Turn around and brain Duke, shoot my father, and here she is coaxing me back into that rose red heaven between her legs. Her love soft and gentle, her rage burning and her grip stronger than I thought. I made her into this. I made her into the red monster that hated everyone and everything and as I sink into her, sink into her soft, sweet skin and this lovemaking, running my hands all over her body, seeping away from myself.
Seeing myself having sex with her, not here. It’s not wrong but… when the release comes… I don’t come back.
Leaning in my office chair, the computer screen casting a blue light glow around me in the dark of my office, my glasses dispersing the glare and leaving me with the final line. The light clicks on and I don’t notice. ‘If anyone were to find out about this, I thought. There’d be no end to the hateful slaughter.’ Of course it was only a first draft so while it’s corny it gets the point across. That’s when she gets up from the bed and pads over to me, wrapping her arms around me, Heather huddles against my shoulder.
“Alright, Hemingway, that’s enough writing.” she says, “Come to bed.”
“Honey, I’m just doing some editing.”
“Editing? Baby, it’s three in the morning, you have more of that press tour. What was it for again? Slasher School 5?” she nudges me, “You can write about my perfect crimes later.”
I almost want to slam the monitor off the desk but she leans close to my ear, “Don’t make me have to hurt you, baby…” she coos, “My little Cassie doesn’t need to be in the ground now, does he?”
“No.” I say.
“Good!” she exclaims, hoisting me up and away, tossing me gently onto the bed with her settling on top of me with a soft as silk smile. There’s nothing I can do now. As she turns out the light there’s only one thought I had as I drifted off.
She’s won.