Mako’s tenses but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just stares Ryan down with a cold indifference, committing his last moment with his brother to memory. I watch Mako closely, waiting to see if he wants to keep trying.
“I’ll make your death less painful,” I bargain.
Mako whips his head towards me. “No, River.”
Ryan just glares at me. “Fuck you, bitch. I’m not telling him anything.”
I sigh, resigned to the fact that if Mako doesn’t catch him soon, the Ghost Killer’s identity will be coming out of my mouth. And that thought terrifies me more than the prospect of getting caught for Ryan’s murder.
“Just do it,” Mako orders quietly. I catch his green eyes in mine and find nothing but assurance. He’s telling me it’s okay, and it breaks my heart that Ryan is still hurting Mako, even when facing death.
Calmly, I walk over to the broken broomstick, covered with double-sided tape, all except for the jagged tip. Dangling on the tip of the stick is Ryan’s ugly ass engagement ring. On the tape, are tiny pieces of Ryan’s favorite mug. When he sees me coming with it, he fights hard, ripping his body side to side, trying to dislodge the ropes, but only succeeding in dislodging his shoulders from their sockets.
Mako doesn’t turn away when I pull down his shorts, grab his limp dick and begin sawing it off with the boxcutter. Instead, he grabs the roll of duct tape, rips off a piece and slaps it over Ryan’s mouth to quiet the manic screaming ripping from his throat.
I gag a little as I complete my task. I may be a tad unhinged, but fuck, this is gross. When I’m done, I take a deep breath to try and steady my churning stomach. Then, without further hesitance, I shove the broomstick up Ryan’s ass.
Even duct tape can’t contain Ryan’s screams. And that shit can fix almost anything.
It takes a minute for Ryan to pass out from the pain. Another four before he bleeds out and dies. He was on the brink of death anyway.
Not for one single moment does Mako look away from my murder. From his murder now, too. He may have not actually done the killing, but he would be considered an accomplice in court.
My stomach is still turning. Now that I’ve officially killed a human being, I need a moment to gather myself. I just did some fucked up things to a live person. And though my gag reflux is working overtime right now, I can’t find it in myself to regret it, either.
“You didn’t have to stay for that,” I say softly, covered head to toe in blood and gore. I must look like Carrie from Stephen King’s book.
Ever so slowly—too slowly—his eyes rip away from the gory scene before him and slide to mine. He’s as cool as a cucumber. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or worried.
“I did,” he says. “I don’t feel sorry for him. Not after seeing what he did to Alison, and especially not after seeing what he did to you. I’ve watched a monster grow into the devil from the moment I was welcomed into the family. I’m not going to mourn his death.”
I don’t say anything for a moment as I contemplate his words. Ryan’s words wriggle like parasitic worms through my brain, and despite constantly reminding myself that Mako will be running for the hills soon, I still have to ask. That weak part of me still seeks that assurance.
“Are you disgusted by me?”
His stare never wavers. “I’m proud of you, River.”
DESPITE WEARING GLOVES, MY hands are shaking from the burn of bleach. This entire attic has been scrubbed. Even the ceiling. The fumes of bleach are overwhelming, despite the mask and safety glasses. When we’re done, I boil a pot of vinegar, place it th
e room and close the door. Getting rid of the bleach smell is vital. The fans are going but that’s not a quick enough solution.
Luckily, Mary and Ava are scheduled to come tomorrow morning, finishing off anything we missed and giving us a valid reason for the smell of cleaning solution. Normally they come on Sunday’s, but given the situation, I rescheduled, citing that Ryan was gone for the weekend and I had the house cleaning handled. It’s the only thing I’ve done thus far that will look suspicious in court if they decided to indict me. But more than likely, it won’t hold up in court considering the girls know I always insist on cleaning up after myself.
Which is why the girls won’t be surprised by the smell of bleach. There’s been countless occasions of them catching me already cleaning by the time they arrive. And with the lack of ventilation up there, any cops or detectives aren’t going to think twice when they go up and get a faint whiff of bleach.
After Ryan’s life was snuffed out, we immediately got to work on disposing of him and cleaning up the attic. By the time we got back, it was close to eleven at night.
It was messy, to say the least. And I may have vomited a few times. It required trespassing on private property, but his remains were taken to a farm and fed to the pigs. It was the only sure thing that would guarantee no bones or parts of Ryan would be found. Besides, trespassing is the least of the sins we committed today.
Mako and I didn’t leave until every bit of him was consumed.
The weapons I used to torture Ryan were bleached and then buried deep in the woods. The ring had came out with the broomstick when I removed it from Ryan’s body. Even though it disgusts me, I ended up cleaning that, too. It would look suspicious if I’m not wearing my engagement ring while I pretend that my loving boyfriend has gone missing. As soon as I deem it appropriate, I’ll burn the ring.
There’s no trace of him anymore, save for all those memories frozen in time and hung up around the house. Eventually, those will be shipped off to Matt and Julie as they mourn his death, destined for tear drops on the glass frames.
That’s the only part that truly hurts. His mother doesn’t deserve to lose a child. It’s not her fault Ryan turned out to be a demon. She did everything in her power to give her boys the best life, but you can’t control it if your husband is a pedophile and turns your son into a sociopath.
“We need to figure out something with the cameras,” Mako says tiredly. It’s after one in the morning now, having spent several hours cleaning. His knees are spread, elbows resting on each leg, head bowed, and his hands clasped around the back of his neck. Getting rid of Ryan’s body took a lot of emotional and physical energy. He’s drained. We both are.