Temptation to go and strangle the fucker in his sleep is strong, but one murder at a time.
My eyes fall on Alice’s graduation cap and college booklets on the breakfast table.
She’s mentioned college only a handful of times since we’ve been together, and every time she does, I seduce her filthy little mouth and make her too delirious to even want to leave the room let alone me for college.
I move to the room at the back of house where they keep the disintegrating mother.
If I ever end up like this, Ebony better put me out of my misery.
Clicking the door open I cringe when it squeaks, stopping for a moment to check if there’s any movement in the house.
When I’m satisfied everyone is still asleep, I slip inside and close the door.
The heavy breathing guides me to the body in the bed. It fucking smells of death in here.
This is a mercy kill.
We can’t let our mothers ruin our lives, it’s selfish of them.
Slipping a couple of latex gloves from my pocket, I stretch them over my hand snapping them in place.
The woman looks nothing like her daughter.
Her hair is grey and ratty, pale, papery skin sags over her skull making her look twice her age.
Sitting beside her on the bed I debate using a pillow so I don’t have to look at her while ending her miserably existence, but the only one in here is the one propping her head up so I forgo the pillow and opt for my hand instead.
Her hot breath disperses over my gloved palm as I move it to her mouth, placing it over the woman’s crusted, dry lips.
Leaning further over her body I pinch her nostrils together with my other hand and wait.
It doesn’t take long for her body to begin moving beneath me, a jerk at first and then convulsing.
She’s weak, so her arms don’t even rise to push me away.
It’s unsatisfying killing something so pitiful, and not quick enough.
Dull, yellow eyes startle awake and stare at me making my face scrunch in discomfort.
Her eyes are lifeless, like she departed this body way before I ever got here.
Mumbled moans against my palm give way to pointless attempts at gasps.
When her body finally settles, her eyes gaze up into mine. Confusion…fear… and finally…acceptance written in them.
“Good night, Mrs Young,” I whisper as the life leaves her.
Peeling myself from the bed I look down at the open mouth, wide-eyed corpse.
Alice wanted this. You’re welcome, little bird.
Twenty-Six
Chapter
ALICE
One week later
Grief is supposed to consume a person, but I just feel relief.
Watching them lower my mother’s casket into the ground gives me a sense of freedom I haven’t felt for a long.
Erik’s hand tightens in mine as a sigh leaves my lips.
Everything is falling into place.
Asher’s glare makes me squirm a little.
He knows how badly I wanted my mother dead, and he found her blue lipped and staring at the ceiling.
She’d been ill for so long the coroner didn’t even look into her death, and if he had, what would he have found?
“Come on,” Erik encourages, and I lean into him and follow him away from the service towards his car that will take us to a small wake at the house.
The house I’ll be putting on the market as soon as possible.
Paris is looking like a possibility after all.
“Oh, I left my purse,” I vomit out, searching my body for the strap.
“I’ll go get it, go to the car,” he tells me, and I offer him a tight smile.
Slipping into the car, I begin to reapply my lipstick when Asher, waiting for Erik by the grave, gets my attention, making my stomach knot.
They appear to be arguing.
Stepping out of the car, my insides solidify when Erik lands a blow to Asher who falls and disappears down the hole they just lowered my mother into.
Oh, God.
When feeling returns to my legs I move closer to see Asher dragging himself out of the grave.
They’re speaking in hushed tones and then Asher barges past Erik.
He tosses a, “See you at home,” to me over his shoulder and staggers away.
Erik’s eyes turn to me and it’s like I’m being pinned down by white hot fury.
Every part of me wilts inside from the pure intensity coming from him.
What the hell did Asher say to him?
He moves past me to the car, and at first I think he’s going to drive off, leaving me, but he doesn’t.
Timidly, I get in the car but don’t speak for fear of angering him further.
The tension is so thick I can feel it cloaking me like a storm cloud waiting to unleash its torrent on me.
Is he mad at me for something Asher’s said to him? Or just mad at Asher for being over protective of me?
When we reach the house, I slip out of the car first and put some distance between us.