Dearest Clementine: Dark and Romantic Monstrous Tales (Letters Book 1)

by Candace Robinson

  Outside the night club, the music was booming as she stepped out of the cab. A few girls in short dresses and high heels entered the charcoal-bricked building. She handed the cab driver a twenty and scrambled out of the car, shutting the door.

  Morgan preferred to find someone with a strong heartbeat, someone whom she knew nothing about. Picking up someone at the hospital on their deathbed just wouldn’t do. The last time she’d done that, she’d felt sick for the entire month.

  A cloud of smoke enveloped her when she walked up the steps, and she swatted at the air. All around her, almost everyone around her was drinking, dancing, or both. There wasn’t time to wait for someone to approach her—she found the first person she could, sitting alone.

  The man was tall, thin, almost skeletal. He sipped on a beer and ran a hand through his spiky, chestnut-colored hair.

  She adjusted her silky black gloves and placed a hand to the wall and whispered in his ear, “You wanna leave this joint and go to your place?”

  His brown eyes slid to hers, his lips curling into a smirk. “Straight to the point?”

  Pushing herself away from the wall, Morgan shrugged and backed up. “Take it or leave it.”

  Despite his eyebrows shooting up in a surprised expression, he quickly followed her out of the club. They both stayed silent as he walked her to his car. The stranger even opened the door for her, as if to prove himself a gentleman when in fact Morgan didn’t care either way.

  After starting the car, the man put on a country song, and she hated it. Hated the guy’s twangy voice and hated being in this car with this strange man. She was glad he didn’t offer his name, and she didn’t care to ask it. Maybe she should just start slashing people in back alleys. It would be easier that way.

  The man, who wasn’t Jack, pulled to a stop on a cracked driveway in front of a cozy house on pier and beams. It was cute and blue with a porch swing hanging in front of where a garage had once been.

  As they approached the front door with a rectangular window covered in thin metal blinds, her already slowing heart felt as if it was speeding up. She thought about Jack, what she was doing, and it all felt wrong. So she had to do it fast, but the man beat her to the punch. He opened the door and before she could make a move, he pushed her up against it.

  His hand cupped her breast, squeezing hard. “Are you going to tell me your name or do I just call you whatever I want?” Before she could answer, his wet lips pressed to hers. They moved sloppily against her, and the feel of them was nothing like Jack’s. She wanted him to stop. Instead of pushing him away, she fished out the blade from her coat pocket and steadily buried it into his chest. Then to end his and her suffering, she hastily slashed a smile across his throat. Crimson bloomed out from the wounds and quietly spread. The only sound inside the house was his gasps and slowing breaths.

  Morgan still didn’t know his name as he slumped to the floor. And it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t ever serve a purpose anyway.

  With a deep swallow, she fumbled with the buttons of the man’s dress shirt until his hairy chest sat on display. Taking the knife once more, she sliced a jagged line down the center of his chest, the squishy sounds echoing through the room.

  Shifting forward, she pushed at an angle with her gloved hands inside the dead chest and dug through organs, muscle, and nerve endings until she reached the precious treasure she needed. Blood oozed down her arm as she held the object in her fist.

  Breathing softly, Morgan opened her jaw wide, and then wider, and wider, until it became perfectly unhinged. She placed the heart on her tongue and shoved it inside her mouth to the back of her throat, where the esophagus expanded for the new object. The withered one that had almost stopped beating was being pushed and replaced by the new organ. As the old heart entered her stomach, the new one took shape inside her chest, growing stronger.

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  Pressing a bloody gloved-hand to her chest, she let herself relax. “One month. Another month of freedom.” As she stared at the dead body, no remorse consumed her. Maybe she was a monster, but she was still alive.

  Without a single glance back, she tucked her gloves into her coat pocket and walked home, still covered in blood. If someone stopped her, she would say it was for a horror movie project.

  Thirty minutes later, Morgan arrived home and stopped in her tracks when she found someone sitting on her porch. Jack. Maybe she should have washed off.

  Underneath the soft glow of her porch light, his gray eyes met hers. Box of chocolates in hand, he stood and scanned her over, really seeing her.

  The chocolates dropped from his grasp, and he rushed to her like she was dying, his hands wrapping around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t nod or shake her head, only stared at him. Something… Something was happening inside her, and she didn’t know what exactly. An emotion she didn’t wish to have, one she wanted to slide back inside the heart that had died.

  “Did someone do something to you?” He shifted back from her, hands still folded on her shoulders, his eyes almost too intense for her. “Where are you bleeding from?”

  “It’s … it’s … not mine,” she murmured. A small piece of her wanted to pull the words back, but most of her yearned to tell him everything.

  “What?” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his hands never left her.

  Finally, she moved from his grasp and inched toward the porch, aching to get inside as though this wasn’t happening. “Why are you here?”

  “Is that the question you’re going to ask when there’s blood all over you?” He hurried in front of her, up the porch steps, his face incredulous.

  She pulled out the keys from her purse and unlocked the door. “Yes.”

  “I came here to surprise you. I thought I’d bring you dinner.”

  Her eyes fell to the bag beside the front door. It was Chinese food from her favorite restaurant. Her heart beat as if reminding her what was going on. “I said I’d see you tomorrow.”

  “Is this because of what I said earlier?”

  Those three words he’d said earlier—the ones she’d tried to pretend had never happened—popped into her mind. “Jesus, Jack, just go home.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” he asked, appearing hurt. It only infuriated her.

  “I ate someone’s heart.”

  “What?”

  She stared at his confused face and took a step toward him and pressed her hand against her chest. “I. Ate. Someone’s. Heart.”

  “Like a candy heart?”

  “No, not fucking candy!”

  Jack took a step back and shook his head, running a hand through his curls. “I’m so confused.”

  Morgan hadn’t planned on telling him. Hadn’t planned on ever telling him or anyone. She wasn’t sure what she would have done. Maybe eventually she would have stopped answering his phone calls, or maybe she would have given in to eating his heart. But now, maybe he would have a chance to stay away from her if he knew the truth.

  “Follow me inside.”

  He didn’t hesitate and walked behind her into the house. She flipped on the light and he took a seat on her leather sofa, setting some of the mess to the side.

  “Well?”

  “Can I take a shower first?” She was avoiding answering him for the moment, but if she was going to see Jack one last time, she wanted to feel clean.

  “Sure… Go take a shower after you just told me you ate someone’s heart and have blood all over you. This is all perfectly normal.” His tone was still light.

  “Great, you’re a peach!” she said sarcastically sweet, turned around, and hurried down the hall.

  “Yeah, a peach is something normal you eat!” He yelled as if everything she had said earlier had never been true.

  But it was. The blood crusted on her skin told her that. She rushed through her hot shower, ignoring the fact that Jack was there. Or maybe once she came out, he wouldn’t be, and she could finally m
ove on with what was left of her life. But no, there he was, seated on the couch, flipping through one of her tattoo magazines.

  He set the magazine to the side when he noticed she was there, but not before she glanced at the paper underneath.

  “What is that?”

  Morgan reached for the sheet of paper but not before Jack ripped it away. “Nothing.”

  “Jack,” she said his name through gritted teeth.

  “Fine.” He handed her the folded paper. “I was just writing down all things paranormal.”

  The paper made a swishing noise as she unfolded it. Poltergeist. Lifting her head, she stared at the ceiling and let out a small laugh. She pressed a clean hand against his shoulder. “I can touch you, so I’m not a ghost.”

  “No, you’re definitely not that.”

  “The blood’s gone.” She shuffled forward.

  “So it is.”

  The air was already growing heated between them and before Morgan let herself slip into the moment, she blurted, “I have to eat hearts to live. And no, I’m not immortal—I’m not any of that. I don’t know what I am. But each month my heart withers, and if I don’t eat a new one, I’ll die.”

  Jack blinked and blinked and blinked. “Animal hearts?”

  “Jack!” Morgan shouted. “I’ve been murdering people!”

  “To live.”

  “Yes!”

  “But not me.”

  She could lie to him and tell him that she never planned on taking his heart from his chest, but she couldn’t do it. Her eyes darted to the side.

  “Okay,” Jack drawled, “should have been me…”

  “But I couldn’t...” she whispered, not taking her eyes away from his.

  “Because?”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted again. “Because I like you, all right?”

  “So once a month...” He rubbed his hand across his chin over and over again.

  “Can you be more elaborate?” she asked, growing antsy and irritated while waiting for him to go on.

  “Show me then,” Jack said. “Next month when you have to do it all over again. Show me.”

  “What? Why aren’t you acting like a normal person? Anyone else would have called the police. Ran off screaming. Tried to kill me.” She took a step away from him. “Frankly, you’re freaking me out.”

  “Oh, I’m kind of in shock right now. Once the wheels start really turning in my head, I’m sure I will.”

  “If you really want to see it, then come back in a month. If you choose to not show up, I understand.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean a month?”

  “I think—I think we shouldn’t see each other. You obviously need some time to process that I’m a murderer or that you think I’m crazy.” Morgan attempted to yank Jack from the couch, but he didn’t budge. He gave her a tug and pulled her toward him.

  “You’re just trying to break up with me, aren’t you? I don’t believe any of this, and I like crazy.” He hauled her into his lap and she let out a low moan. He gently tugged down the robe from her shoulders until her breasts were exposed. Morgan knew it was fucked up, but it all felt so good when his mouth enveloped her nipple. She brought her mouth to his and almost gave in to the moment before hopping from his lap and straightening her robe.

  “Leave, and come back in a month,” she said, her tone giving no room for argument.

  “Fine. I’ll play this game with you, only because I love you.” There those words were again. Jack’s mouth softly brushed against hers, and then he walked out the door.

  “I don’t love you,” she whispered to the door. “I can’t love anyone.”

  Every day Morgan received a letter in the mail from Jack with the three words written inside. She didn’t reply. Only pressed her hand to her heart. But was it really her heart if it was stolen? She still wasn’t sorry she took the organ, but it made her wonder if any of the victims she’d murdered could have been like Jack. If she’d only killed Jack to begin with, he would have just been an afterthought, but because of her mistake, he consumed her dreams night after night. Perhaps he was an obsession, but it was more than that … she missed him.

  The heart in her chest ached, reminding her that it had been a month, and was on its way to disintegrate. It was time. Her breath caught when the doorbell rang.

  Padding her bare feet across the living room, she stood on her tiptoes and peered out the peephole. But she had known who it was. Jack’s curly head was bowed down, his eyes staring at the ground.

  She opened the door and her gaze fell to the chocolates in his hand. He always had chocolates for her, and she would give him nothing but heartbreak.

  Jack bit his lip, appearing nervous. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Yeah.” She missed him more than anything ever but still held her feelings back. “Ready?”

  “You’re still on this game?” he said, showing a bit of frustration.

  Reaching forward, she yanked his hand to her chest. “Feel that?”

  His brows furrowed. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, I told you I need to eat a heart,” she said, frustrated, too. “Unless you want it to be yours, I’ve got to leave.”

  “Um, just tell me what we need to do.”

  The fact that he said we triggered something because she didn’t need anyone else to help her. Yet she took a seat inside his car and folded her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs to calm down her thoughts.

  “Where to?” he asked, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

  She wanted somewhere less busy. “The bar on Main Street.”

  He nodded, and they drove in silence. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she would only become weaker the more she talked.

  Jack pulled onto the street and Morgan had him park on the side next to the curb.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Now you’ll see the rest,” Morgan responded while slipping on a new pair of silky black gloves. She then handed him a pair of leather ones and headed for the bar.

  Outside the bar stood a man with tan skin and thick obsidian hair, flipping through his wallet.

  Morgan stopped in front of the man. “You want to come back to my place?” She knew with her whole decaying heart that Jack had his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes wide. It made her smile.

  The man’s gaze drifted from her to Jack. “I’m not down for threesomes.”

  “He’ll only be watching,” she purred.

  “Nah, that’s all right,” he drawled in a deep southern accent.

  Before the man could turn around to leave, she kneed him between the legs and punched him in the face. The man slumped to the ground.

  Jack tugged her backward. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing either, but I’m dying, Jack. Fuck it, I—I love you, but I don’t have time for this,” she seethed.

  Jack’s eyes shifted from the front door, to her, to the man on the ground who was regaining consciousness. “So help me I’m going to go to jail for you, aren’t I?” He knelt and slammed his gloved fist into the man’s face, knocking him out. With hurried movements, Jack dragged the body around the building. The reek of garbage coming from the trash permeated the air of the alley.

  “What now?” he grunted, sweat beading his brows and forehead.

  Morgan withdrew her knife and flicked it open to draw her two-hundred-and-forty-second smile at the man’s throat, the quickest way for him to not wake again.

  A pain so harsh struck her heart and she dropped to her knees, her shaky hand clasping her chest. The knife fell to the ground with a clack.

  Jack grabbed the knife, and she feared for a moment that he was going to haul her away. But he moved forward and put the smile on the throat of the man for her as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

  “You—You—” she stuttered, her eyes frantically shifting back and forth.

  “Now what do you need?” he whisp
er-shouted.

  “His heart.” She crawled forward and attempted to unbutton the man’s shirt. Her hands kept fumbling as she grew weaker. Jack’s hands softly brushed hers away and he opened up the shirt, popping off a few buttons.

  Stabbing the blade into the man’s chest, Jack created a long uneven incision. His shoulders didn’t shake as he rolled up his sleeves and reached inside the flesh, digging around until he found the very thing that Morgan needed to survive. Jack’s eyes met hers when he pulled out the organ and cradled it in his hands. She couldn’t read his thoughts, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, either.

  The smell of metal caressed her nostrils and she opened her mouth wide, letting her jaw unhinge.

  “Holy shit!” Jack whispered, his hand trembling for the first time when he handed her the bloody heart. Without taking her gaze away from his, she scooped up the organ from him and placed it into her mouth, swallowing the muscular heart whole. Her throat expanded as the heart slid down, replacing the one that barely had any breaths left.

  When the fresh organ beat rapidly in her chest, and she felt back to being whole, her eyes met Jack’s again. “I don’t know what I am.”

  “You’re Morgan,” he breathed, his hands no longer shaking.

  She looked at the dead body on the ground and the voices from outside, just on the other side of the building. “We have to leave.”

  They hurried around the opposite side and didn’t stop until they were in Jack’s car. Once inside, they removed their gloves.

  As Jack started the car and drove away, Morgan used a rag and wet hand wipes from her purse to remove the blood from her face. The same as on the ride to the bar, they remained quiet, but this time for a different reason.

  When Jack parked in front of her house, he turned to her, worry shrouding his face. “That’s how you’ve been doing this? All these years? Reckless?”

  “Yes…” It was the fastest way that she knew how to do things. Go in for the heart, and quickly leave with it.

  “We’re going to have to be more careful and figure out a better plan,” Jack said gently. “I mean, that was too risky.”