by Hamel, B. B.
I grab her hair tighter and hold her as I slowly slide myself inside.
She groans. I spread her wide, fill her up. I start to move my hips, fucking her slowly at first, but this isn’t a slow moment.
This is hot, passion, fire. I fuck her faster, gripping her hair with one hand, her hip with the other. She holds onto the tree, pushing back against me.
We’re maybe sixty yards from the tree line. Anyone could hear her moaning right now. But neither of us care.
I fuck her hard. I fuck her like this is the last time I get to taste her, because somewhere deep in my mind, I know it might be.
Nobody could still want me, not after that story. Not after knowing the truth about my fucked-up family, the darkness that’s always there.
I fuck her harder and deeper. She groans, bucking against me. I take her like an animal, thrusting up, up, harder, faster. I slap her tight ass and reach around to rub her clit, grinding against her.
I pull her hair. “You won’t forget this cock,” I whisper to her. “You won’t ever fucking forget it.”
She gasps as I fuck her harder, rubbing her clit faster. I need it so badly I can feel the ache in my bones.
“Fuck me like I’m a bad girl, Case,” she gasps.
I give her what she needs, what we both need in this moment. It’s unspoken, but she knows as well as I do that we need this. I fuck her rough and deep, working that clit, loving her body, loving the way she gasps and whispers my name.
I feel her come just moments before I do. She comes in tight waves as I fill her with sticky tight wads of my cum. I fill her deep and rough and we both gasp, losing ourselves, the moment overwhelming in its intense hunger.
And slowly, we both come down. I slide myself out of her and she steps away, dressing, breathing deep.
I watch her carefully. She turns around and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I should go,” she says.
“Yeah. I guess so.” I smile a little, getting myself dressed. “It’s dangerous out in the woods alone.”
She smiles uncertainly. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you later, Case.”
“Bye, Eden.”
I watch her go.
I should beg her to stay. Beg her to come back to me, come back to the house tomorrow at least. I should maybe even beg her not to tell anyone what I told her.
But I’m done. I’m finished. I don’t care if she tells the world.
I just hope she comes back. I need her more than I knew, more than I’m comfortable admitting to myself. I need her so badly, it feels like I might break.
And the thought that she won’t come back to me nearly does it.
But just before she leaves my line of sight, she looks back. And she smiles.
I smile back. She waves and leaves, disappearing around the bend.
I lean up against the tree. I stay there for a while, thinking about all my mistakes, all my stupidity, all the ways I’ve failed again and again and again.
I won’t fail Eden. At the very least, I won’t fail her. I’ll make sure she’s safe, even if she never comes back to me. I’ll never let her down.
With that, I take a breath, and I head back home.
13
Eden
Case’s story swirls through my head and I don’t go to work the next day.
I know I probably should. That would be the smart thing to do, after all. I should go into work and pretend like nothing happened.
But I can’t. Case’s father was a serial killer. Fox was his accomplice. And Case ended up murdering his own father.
It’s so twisted, so messed up. I can see why there are so many stories about the Hammetts now.
I stay in bed for most the day. I just can’t seem to get up. It’s like a fog is over me, pinning me down, keeping me under the covers.
I just keep seeing Jessamine’s eyes, crazy and delighted in freaking me out. I keep hearing Case explain how he killed his dad with a knife, stabbing him in the back. I keep thinking about all the rumors, about Case’s dead mother, about all of his father’s victims.
Anyone that goes into Hammett’s End never comes back out. That’s what they say, right?
Maybe it’s true. Even though I’m out, I don’t think I’ll ever really leave that place.
The site of so much sadness and loss and death.
Around three in the afternoon, I manage to drag myself out of bed, more because I need to eat something. I make a little toast in the kitchen, and when my mom asks what I’m doing home, I find myself unable to answer.
Instead, I get dressed and head out. I don’t know why. I should probably stay inside, but suddenly being alone feels horrible.
I can’t be alone with all these stories in my head.
So, I go to Hammy’s. It’s the first place I think of. I figure it won’t be too crowded this early in the day.
Although I’m wrong. Hammy’s isn’t packed like it gets on weekend nights, but it’s not empty, either. I head inside and find a spot at the bar.
Most of the other people are older men. I’m guessing these are the guys that got laid off from the mill, drinking their sorrows. Drinking the last of their last paychecks.
I order a glass of wine. It doesn’t seem strong enough, though, and I ask for a gin and tonic next.
After twenty minutes, a person sits down next to me. I look over and nearly jump up when I realize it’s Dean Fish.
“Hey,” he says. “Don’t freak out. I come in peace.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you want?”
“Nothing, honestly,” he says. He orders a beer when the bartender comes over. “Just looking for company.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Yeah,” he admits. “I should. But I haven’t been going much.”
“Do you still work there?”
He shrugs. “Haven’t been fired yet. I think Case feels bad.”
I sigh. “You know he does, right?”
“I know.” He can’t meet my eyes. “I know what he’s doing for this town. I just… I hate him for what he did to my dad.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. His beer arrives and he sips it in silence. We sit there, side by side, sipping our drinks.
“You know, it’s true about him,” Dean says after a while.
“What’s that?”
“They say he’s going broke.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “He owns half the town.”
“Yeah, he does. But he’s going broke keeping it all afloat.”
I frown at that. “Really?”
“Sure, that’s what folks say, anyway. I think it’s true. I mean, look at it all. How are all these things still open in little shitty Pine Grove? Nobody has any money here, except for him, so he just keeps dumping it back into the community.”
“He can’t be keeping this whole town afloat alone,” I say.
“Well, hell, he’s not. Of course not. But he’s keeping some stuff open. Like the bowling alley, I hear that loses money every year. And the public library, apparently, he donated a million dollars recently to keep it open. There’s a laundromat that don’t get much use except by poorer folks, and it don’t make any money. Plus, the arcade, and the movie theater, and the drugstore. Half the fun shit in town is because of him, and half the necessary shit, too.”
I bite my lip and look away. I don’t want to hear this right now. I don’t want to hear good things about Case Hammett.
Because he’s a killer. He killed his father.
He killed his serial killer father. He saved lives.
And now here he is, keeping this town alive.
Without Case, Pine Grove would’ve disappeared a while ago, or at least it would’ve been a lot worse place to live. Without Case, there wouldn’t be much here.
His father would’ve bled it all dry, but not Case. He saved lives and still does. He doesn’t take them.
I finish my drink. “Thanks, Dean,” I say.
>
He looks surprised. “For what?”
“Case isn’t so bad, you know. He’s actually a good person.”
“Yeah, well. I’m sorry I stabbed him.”
“I’ll pass it along. You should go to work tomorrow.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I nod at him and leave the bar. I get into my car and I sit there for a second.
I should go home. I should forget about Hammett’s End and the one man in this whole world that seems decent.
Instead, I start my car and I drive. I head over to that big, old, creepy house, I park my car, and I walk up the steps.
I’m smiling as I knock on the door.
I know what I want to say to him. I want to tell him that he’s a good man and he doesn’t have to feel sorry for what he did. He saved lives and he still does.
His father was sick. He can move on. He did the right thing.
And I’ll kiss him. I’ll kiss him and tell him that I see the good there. That’s all I see in him is the good and the light. He’s handsome and beautiful and right. I’ll tell him all that.
The door opens. My heart skips a beat.
Jessamine grins at me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I’m here to see Case.”
“He’s not home.”
“Oh.” I hesitate. “Do you know when he will be?”
Her grins spreads across her face. “Why don’t you come in and find out?”
I’m about to say no, about to turn away, but she moves too fast.
She hits me in the head with something hard and the floor comes flying up to meet my face.
The last thing I remember is Jessamine laughing as she grabs my legs and starts to drag me inside.
14
Case
Another early day at the mill. I’m stuck in the administrative building filling out payroll paperwork, trying to help transition the team from a full-time human staff to partially automated.
It hasn’t been pretty. It hasn’t been fun. But somehow, it hasn’t been hard.
I think because I’ve been too busy letting myself get distracted by Eden.
I know nobody will appreciate this. All the town will see are the cuts. They won’t think about how I cut twenty to save two hundred, or how I take more losses than I get gains, or how any other owner in my position would’ve sold and moved to India years ago.
Doesn’t matter. I’m not here for accolades. I’ve lived in the darkness of my fucked-up family for so long that I don’t even know what it would feel like for people to give a shit about what I do.
I’m tired and I can’t stop thinking about Eden, about the way she looked at me after walking away. It was half fear, half lust. It was a look I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
Because I don’t expect to see her again. I don’t think she’ll come back, and I can’t blame her. I come from a line of serial killers. I’m a fucking killer myself. I murdered my own father.
It doesn’t matter that I had a good reason. I still killed a man with my bare hands.
I’d run away from me, too.
No, I won’t see her again. It’s just another person that I’ve lost, another name on a grave in my back yard. I’ll move on, even though a little piece of me will stay stuck behind, waiting for Eden to return, never able to pass.
That’s what I feel like sometimes, just a ghost of a human, waiting for the past to change and knowing it never will.
I stretch and yawn, glancing at the time. It’s getting late in the day and I’m pretty much ready to be done when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I grab it and unlock the screen. It’s a text from Jessamine, a picture of something.
I frown at the screen. I can’t make it out at first. It’s a little blurry… but the more I stare, the more it comes into focus.
She sends another message. Miss your girl yet, Case? You should’ve let me go.
“Fuck,” I whisper out loud.
The picture is Eden, tied to a chair, a gag shoved between her teeth.
I stand, throwing my phone in my pocket. I don’t bother grabbing my bag or my suit jacket. I just run, ignoring the whispers and the looks.
I run as fast as I fucking can.
No, no, god no. This can’t be happening.
I get in my car, start the engine. I peel out, tires shrieking as I race into traffic. I drive fast, stupidly, recklessly. I have to get there, I have to be on time.
This can’t be fucking happening. Not again, not fucking again. I worked so hard to keep her from doing this again.
Jessamine is sick. She’s been sick for a very long time. I didn’t realize it, not fully, not at first. When she got to high school, though, she had a boyfriend. He was a nice boy, kind to everyone, maybe a little quiet.
They found him dead in a ditch, his throat cut open.
I didn’t suspect her. Nobody did. But looking back on it now, it’s so obvious that he was her first kill.
She killed three more times before I caught on. Jessa was careful, so very careful, but I was watching. I knew she had the potential, I just wasn’t sure.
I caught her one night with a man she brought home from a bar. He was tied up in the dance room, just like Eden is right now. She was circling him like a vulture, cutting his skin, laughing as he pleaded with her to let him go.
She killed him before I could stop her. After Fox helped us bury the body, I locked her away in her room.
I thought she knew better. I thought she was controlling herself, at least a little bit. We haven’t had any problems in years, not even a hint of the killer. She’s been almost kind, except for lately.
I thought it would be safe to bring a girl into the house. Jessa never killed a girl before. It was always men, three of them older. I always assumed she was killing our father, over and over.
But now she has Eden. I’m so fucking stupid.
I drive like a maniac. I speed through stop signs, roll through red lights. I slam the front of the car against the curb as I turn into the back driveway, smashing on the brakes and jumping out without turning off the engine.
I run up the back steps. “Jessa!” I shout as I throw open the door. “Jessa!”
There’s nothing, just silence. Fox is nowhere to be seen.
“Fuck,” I say, running to the back stairs. I take them fast, but as I get halfway up, I manage to steady myself. I manage to take a breath.
I have to calm down. I have to be quiet. If she knows I’m coming, she might do something stupid, like she did last time.
I pause at the top of the steps. She likes to play with her victims. I have to hope she’s doing it again.
I sneak down the hall toward the dance room. I know that’s where she’ll be. It’s where I found her last time.
The floor doesn’t creak as I go. I’ve perfected this, practiced this over and over again in my head. This is what I’d do differently if I had another chance.
I just wish I never got this chance.
I pause at the doors. They’re slightly open and I manage to peer inside.
Eden is in the chair in the very center of the room. She’s not moving, but there’s no blood. I can’t see Jessa,
Every fiber of my being wants to slam open the doors and go running in, but I force myself to wait. I need to know where Jessa is before I make a move.
I steady my breathing. I keep my eyes staring in at Eden. She has to be alive, she just has to be. Jessa wouldn’t have killed her this quickly.
And then there’s a movement, off to my left. I turn just in time to see Jessa come at me, a wicked grin on her face, a baseball bat in her hands.
I grunt as she swings it at me. I throw my arms up desperately, protecting my head. I grunt as pain flares through me. She smashes the bat against my arms again and again, forcing me to stumble back, knocking the doors to the dance room open.
Fucking shit. This was a trap. Of course it was a trap. This was never about Eden.
&
nbsp; It was about me, it was about getting free.
Jessa cackles as I scramble away from her. She advances slowly, like a fucking villain in a horror movie.
“You’re so stupid, brother,” she says softly. “I knew you’d fall for that.”
“What are you doing?” I manage to say.
“I’m tired of being your trapped little rat.”
“You could’ve done this any time, Jessa. Why now? Why her?”
“You were too smart,” she spits at me. “You were always paying attention, at least until Eden showed up. All I had to do was wait for you to fall in love.”
I growl and pounce at her, but she’s expecting it. She swings the bat, slamming it against my ribs. I gasp as the air is forced from my lungs and stagger away.
Jessa laughs again. “Oh, you stupid, stupid man. I don’t kill girls, remember? They’re not my taste. Sorry, Eden, dear.”
I glance over and Eden’s awake now, her eyes wide. She’s trying to speak through her gag.
I give her a look. I hope she understands what it means.
No matter what, even if I don’t make it through, she will.
Jessa advances on me. I back up, stumbling as I go. “This isn’t going to solve your problems, Jessa,” I say. “Fox knows what you are.”
“Fox is pathetic,” she says. “Fox won’t stop me. He’s too busy crying about what he did with daddy all those years ago. Fox is a broken, pathetic fool.”
She swings the bat, but misses. I stumble back against the glass and roll to the side as she jabs the bat at me. It slams against the glass and splinters it, but doesn’t shatter it.
I stagger back, breathing hard. I’m pretty sure I have a broken wrist and at least one broken rib, probably more. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.
I scan the room. This place is usually empty, totally barren. There’s not normally something here I could use as a weapon…
Except over there, in the corner.
It’s a mop and a bucket.
Fucking hell. It’s the mop Eden must’ve left here.
I stare at Jessa. “You’re sick. You know you’re sick.”