Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
I peer outside the kitchen window and don’t see him out there anywhere. My SUV is parked right where we left it earlier.
I go look out the front door. No sign of him that way either. Is he deeper in the house? There’s no working heat anywhere over there so that’s not likely. It’s a cold night and I see no lights on indicating he’s gone that way, either.
I walk over to the basement door and cracking it open, see that the light is on.
I head down the stairs and when I get to the bottom, he appears, coming around the corner.
“What’s up?” he asks, sticking keys into the pocket of his jeans.
“Uh… I should ask you that. I woke up alone, being baked to death and couldn’t find you is what’s up.”
“Oh, sorry.” He shakes his head absently, scrubbing his forehead with his fingers. He meets me at the bottom of the stairs and then spins me by my elbow and guides us back up.
I look over my shoulder at the space and then look into his eyes.
“What were you doing down here?”
“Just sorting through some stuff.”
I frown.
“Let’s get to bed. I’m zonked.”
He’s got a bead of sweat over his upper lip.
And something feels strange with his demeanor.
I don’t like how I’m feeling right now.
When we went to sleep a few hours ago, he was in bed with me in a pair of sleeping pants and a Henley. Now he’s fully dressed, shoes and all. And he doesn’t look happy about me interrupting him.
A moment later, I’m back in bed and he’s taking a shower.
And something in my gut… it feels – wrong.
6
Killian
I’ve played too fast and loose here. Thankfully, my phone lighting up caught my eye that the kitchen motion detector went off.
Violet’s been in this basement twice today and my girl isn’t stupid. She’s the opposite of stupid. She’s sensing something is up and of course she’s correct. I’ll make an excuse to get us out of here first thing in the morning.
And the next time we’re here, he can’t be.
I have to think on that. Because I’m playing a dangerous game, a game where I’m letting my anger cloud my vision. Raymond Iadanza needs to be compartmentalized in a way that doesn’t affect Violet. I need to be more pragmatic about this. I don’t want to be deceptive with her, but about this – it’s the one thing that I need to lie about.
Is it time to end this game? To stop playing with him? I’ve certainly had my fun. Found ways to work out my anger. He’s suffered, for sure. He knows he was a fool to underestimate me.
But it still feels like it’s not enough.
I’ve taken the video projector and flashed it on the wall, showing him video of me fucking her on the kitchen counter, edited of course. He doesn’t get to see her naked body; not ever again. And as I showed him, I went into a rage thinking about the fact that he has seen her naked, has touched her, has fucked her – all because he cheated me. He got a kick to the teeth for that. I knocked a tooth out and the fucker bawled like a baby.
I put in a little speaker, mounted on the wall out of his reach that’s played a few loops including one of us saying our wedding vows for hours. I gave him no video of that because he doesn’t get to set eyes on her the day she married me. That’s also sacred.
Fucking her on those counters in my kitchen was also sacred, but I got satisfaction in seeing his face when he watched the edited version. Knowing she’s mine. Knowing she’s mine forever, that she’s taken my name, that she’s more mine than she ever was his.
He’s losing his grip, though, and I’m wondering if he’ll soon shut down and go catatonic, diminishing the fun. This weekend he didn’t immediately react when I entered; it has me thinking he’s hallucinating and isn’t sure what’s real and what isn’t. All this time alone, all the pain – yeah, it might have fractured his mind.
Tony told me with remorse that he fucked up and forgot to take the lid off a dog food can and so Raymond tried to get creative with the lid to slit his own wrists. This happened in the cistern and he failed at doing more than making a bloody mess. It meant an extra visit from Doc who bandaged him up and suggested the shithead needed to be in a more sterile environment for a few days. I had Tony stay for a couple days and hose him down twice a day.
I’ve just spent an hour dunking his head in a bucket of water over and over as a consequence for him trying to end his life. This ends when I make that choice, not him.