Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

I hung from the ceiling by my wrists, knees cut and bruised from dragging on the floor. Each time I struggled to stand on wobbly legs, I was knocked down with a kick, a fist, the butt of a gun.

Steve sat back on his ankles. “I won’t listen to his sniveling another goddamn minute.” He pushed me away and aimed the shotgun at Joel.

A guttural sound barreled in my chest.

“Nah, got a better idea,” Eugene said. “Take him outside.”

They hauled Joel through the door, one on each arm. No, no, no. The image of Joel bound amongst aphids rammed my heart against my ribs.

The door shut, and I worked at the knots on my wrists. Tied with precision, the heavy nylon rope destroyed my hope for an easy escape. I took two forced breaths to battle my panic. My forearm sheathes were thrown on a shelf a body’s length away.

Stretching mine as long as I could, I reached for the knives with my feet. The rope gnawed and shredded my wrists. The distance was too convenient, the dumb asses. Then I realized. Three inches too short. I needed air.

I pushed off, tucked my knees to keep them from dragging, and swung. The rope around my wrists burned. My hands went numb. Once I had momentum, I bent at my waist keeping my legs in front of me, demanding more strength than my upper body could offer.

On the final thrust, I kicked my feet at the shelf. A blade clinked to the floor. I swept it with my foot. The handle lay at my toes.

Should be just like plucking dandelions with my bare feet while lying in the grass with the A’s, right? I wrapped my toes around the handle. My muscles quivered as I raised the blade to my fists in front of me. A brief sigh of relief.

The backyard woke with the sounds of screams. I cut my arms free and lunged for the door.

I reached for the handle and heard voices on the other side. Fuck. I twirled around. No guns in sight. I ran back where they left me and stood in front of the rope, hands and knife behind my head. Dread attacked my body in violent shakes.

The door opened, and Joel’s screams grew louder. Then silence.

Steve’s smile waved through my dizziness, the AA-12 strapped to his back. “Hey gorgeous, you ready for more?”

Eugene slammed the door behind them. My stomach lurched. They swaggered closer, naked and erect. I stood unresponsive until they were an arm’s length away.

With a downward swipe, I split Steve from sternum to groin. His skin peeled from the blade and gave way to an avalanche of bowels. Eugene yanked me back by my hair, but I was already circling the knife up. I caught him in the throat. His jugular erupted in a red monsoon and he dropped next to his son. Steve writhed. Eugene gargled.

Satisfaction tingled through me as I appreciated the damage. But I wasn’t satisfied. The AA-12 lay next to them. I scooped it up, squeezed the trigger. Again. And again. And again.

Cradling the gun to my chest, I shuffled over the splattered concrete, toward the silence on the other side of the door. It creaked open.

I opened my mouth, but my cry was trapped with my breath. I tried to take a step, refusing to understand what I saw. I collapsed to my knees. Reached out my hand. I began to crawl.

I desired my dust to be mingled with yours

Forever and forever and forever.

Why should I climb the look out?

Li Po

I woke on my father’s boat. The rhythm of side to side rocking quickened the nausea in my gut. I sat up and retched water and bile over the side. Every day had been much of the same. Wake. Puke. Pass out.

I didn’t know how many days passed on that boat, anchored in the center of the lake. My memories were full of holes. I remembered my hand on the basement door. The flame creeping down the match, burning my finger. The heat on my back. The crash as my father’s home collapsed. Gasoline and charred meat soaking into my pores, invading like cancer. And I remembered Joel’s lifeless eyes.

When Annie was five, she asked me why I never cried. I told her then I had nothing to cry about. But she knew there were times when it would’ve been appropriate. Like when Joel and I fought. Like when our dog was hit by a car. Like losing the man I loved, my whole world.

Fire spread in my cheeks. Tingling sparked through my arms and fingers. I failed Joel. My eyes blurred as I lost my grip on consciousness.

My hand slipped around the knob. The door opened. A breeze greeted me. Metallic. Familiar.

Clank.

Joel bucked against the pole. My voice wouldn’t work. Neither would my legs. I floated away from myself. My limbs moved mechanically.