His gaze remained on hers.
“That is one sad, heartbreaking, and emotional story. I appreciate you sharing it with me. I sensed how hard it was for you to tell me.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m worried about what you think of me, for what I did to those guys.”
He pulled her tighter into his arms.
“I want you to know that I accept every part of you.”
He placed his forehead against hers, before he kissed her cheek.
“Honestly, I can’t say I blame you for what you did. I can’t say what I would have done in the same kind of situation. What I do know is this: I won’t do anything to cross you, because I now know you won’t hesitate to put a knife in my chest.”
They both release a chuckle.
Aiming to take the spotlight off her, Yala set her gaze on Kevin. She was curious to know his story, since he never talked about himself.
“What’s your story, Kevin? You never say anything about yourself.”
***
Kevin had never shed tears for any other woman, except his mother. He’d asked Yala for her story; and now that he had it, he was almost sorry he’d asked. The knowledge that he couldn’t do anything to take those painful memories from her was maddening. The worse part, he knew there was much more she wasn’t telling him. Physically she appeared to be fine, but he didn’t have to be a doctor to know how badly the horror she’d suffered had affected her, mentally. Now, he understood why she didn’t date and why she labeled sex as overrated.
As far as telling his story, Kevin didn’t know where to begin. His expression likely showed his discontent about having to relay his story to Yala. In telling her story, she’d likely bared a part of her soul; so he felt obligated to tell her something, despite his feelings on the matter. Already disheartened, he wasn’t sure he could get through his own torturous memories without falling apart.
He’d kept himself together for nearly a decade. Now, this one little woman, although she didn’t know it, was picking him apart.
His voice projected low.
“When I was fifteen, the death of my mother affected me in a way that made me hate everyone, myself the most. My aunt and uncle took me in, and I gave them hell due to the amount of trouble I’d get myself into. I fought and did everything in my power to act out. I didn’t understand my own actions, or why I couldn’t stay out of trouble.
“I know now that I acted out because I’d seen my mother’s death and felt guilty that I’d been unable to prevent it. I’d seen the person that committed the brutal act—my own father.”
At those words, Yala’s eyes grew wide.
“He would have killed me, too, but he was interrupted before he had the chance. It took me years to overcome the gruesome act and just as long to learn to trust people. My mother…”
Kevin shook his head and found he’d lost his voice.
“My mother…”
Yala rubbed his shoulder. She didn't have to say a word. Her gaze reflected her understanding.
“You don’t have to tell me the rest, until you’re ready.”
The idea of talking about the devastation and abuse he and his mother suffered at the hands of his father brought back memories too painful to think about. He took a deep breath.
“I want to tell you everything, but I think I’ll do it later. After hearing your story, I think it’s time for us to talk about something more positive.”
Yala agreed quickly, although he’d barely scratched the surface of the pain he sheltered and the frustration that kept him closed off from the rest of the world. Yala, without even knowing it, had stepped through his wall and brushed enough of his pain aside that she’d reached into his heart. Her story had cemented her place there.
His arms and chest became her new blanket. She rested against him as they talked about the rollercoaster ride he’d been on, tracking her down. Dawn broke through the window, and he had to choose between breaking their connection and being selfish. She may have thought that he was holding her, but he realized her tender embrace was the remedy he'd needed to help heal his own tortured soul.
“We should get some sleep,” he expressed. His tone soft.
Yala made a move to get up, but he kept her in place, folding her deeper into his chest. With his head next to hers, he savored the way she filled his arms. He wanted to explain to her that he wasn’t like those men, the ones who’d taken a part of her soul. He wanted to restore what had been so savagely ripped from her, but he didn’t know how.
“Kevin, I don’t know anything about being in a relationship—with a man. I’m not one of those girly-girls who knows her way around sensitivity and romance.”
He nudged her neck with his nose.
“I happen to like you the way you are. I can’t say I understand what’s happening between us, but it’s too important to ignore. It’s obvious we both have scars that may never heal, but maybe we can help each other patch up what we can and see if the bleeding stops.”
Her lips brushed his cheek.
“That was a very poetic statement. I believe it describes us perfectly.”
Reluctantly, Kevin let Yala show him to the guest room.
Chapter 19
Flirting With Desire
Kevin woke to strange surroundings. The warm soft bed, fresh crisp sheets, and walls painted with colorful angular designs. It took a moment for him to remember being at Yala’s home. The refreshing rays of the sun as it streamed through the sheer curtains in the large window met his slow rise and pulled him towards the source.
He got up, drew the curtains and found a large sliding glass door. Sliding the door open, he stepped onto the small patio attached to the room and welcomed the view that lay before him. Beautiful wooded hillsides, streams, and small stretches of water were off in the distance.
At first, quiet greeted him until he stopped thinking and listed. A choir of free roving animals sung, their voices mingled with the billowing of breezed kissed trees, the swaying sigh of wind tossed grass, and the energetic buzz of free flowing water.
Driving hadn’t shown him this view of the countryside. He fell in love with nature as he let her wrap him in her natural embrace of fresh air and beautiful scenery.
The position of the sun suggested it was near noon. He’d slept longer than he anticipated.
Images of Yala courted his mind. Sweet, beautiful, and tortured. For as sweet and as beautiful as she was, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was capable of being just as deadly. She didn’t want pity, but her story had torn his heart to shreds. He wondered where his…he didn’t know what to call her.
Was she his girlfriend?
They definitely weren’t lovers; and after her story, he'd tossed his romantic intentions aside. He would not cross that line, unless she clearly invited him to cross it.
He bounded the steps and didn’t stop until he stood at her slightly ajar bedroom door. He peeked in and smiled at her sleeping form among a heap of covers. The folds and wrinkles of powder-blue cotton swallowed her. He didn’t wake her. Instead, he headed towards the kitchen. Although it was near noon, he decided to make her breakfast.
He found eggs, fruit and frozen veggies, but not much else. He silently thanked God she had coffee. While the coffee brewed, he made two cheese omelets and toast. She hadn’t lied about not being a girly-girl. His search for a food tray was futile; she had only accessories of necessity.
He had been so captivated by her the night before, he hadn’t taken the time to check out her home.
He peeked into the living room and found it sparsely furnished with earth tones that gave the place a comfortable, welcoming glow. There were no pictures on the walls, only a large mural of abstract colors and angled designs that decorated the only full wall in the space. The mural gave the room a unique look that reminded him of the simplistic depth and complexities that could only be Yala. He glanced at her flower as it flowed uncharacteristically from a water pitcher.
One corner of
his mouth inched up. She needs me.
He would definitely have to go shopping, at least for food—if she invited him to stay longer.
He knocked before he entered her room, but it hadn't roused her sleeping form. He placed her coffee and food on her bedside table and watched her sleep, for a moment, before he shook her shoulder.
Disoriented, sleep released her slowly. When her gaze settled on him, a smile brightened her face.
“Good morning.”
The sound of her voice ignited an instant spark in his heart. She stretched and covered her mouth when a yawn escaped.
“I brought you breakfast,” he pointed out.
She glanced at the plate on her bedside table.
“You did? I don’t know how you managed to get breakfast from my kitchen, but it’s a miracle that I’m grateful for because I’m starving.”
The huge grin on her face revealed that his gesture made her happy. She took the plate.
“What about you? We can share.”
She was already cutting the omelet in half to share with him.
“I’ve already eaten; but I’ll drink coffee with you, if you don’t mind?”
Her hand hovered in front of her mouth, as her words edged out between each chew. “Yes, of course. This is great, by the way.”
There was only one chair in her room. A wicker–style chair with a plush pink cushion that sat next to her bedside table. Kevin dragged the chair closer to her bed. He took a sip from his second cup of coffee and watched her eat.
“I’ll go shopping. You don’t have any food in this house. I saw microwave dinners, noodles, and lots of Twizzlers. How do you live on that stuff?”
She dropped her head.
“It’s no secret. I can’t cook. How is it that you know how to cook so well?”
He hoped the sadness he felt didn’t show up on his face at her question.
“I had to cook for my mother when she couldn’t.”
He couldn’t say any more than that and was sure Yala understood his short explanation. He change the subject.
“Thanks for letting me stay. It’s peaceful here…beautiful.”
He stared around Yala bedroom until his eyes landed back on her.
A few knots of tension seemed to leave Yala when he broke his prolonged stare and stood.
She’d caught him staring and likely saw some of the lust he fought to suppress. He'd been staring at her like she was the meal. Even after a story like hers, he was finding that he still couldn’t fend off his desire for her.
Chapter 20
The Mind of a Killer
My search for a new subject has been tough. The one I truly crave to get my hands on won’t be easy to catch, but I am patient. My mind drifts, and I remember how I arrived at this point.
My early teen years had increased my curiosity with taking apart animals and putting them back together. It was a hobby well-hidden from the well-to-do nature of my family. They wanted perfection; and I acted the part, showing them what they wanted to see. What they didn't know was that I was striving to create perfection.
At seventeen, my curiosity grew into full-blown fascination and brought on the graduation of taking apart humans. This fascination might be considered a sick act to normal society, but necessary if we are to ever progress.
My ultimate goal is to take a person apart and reconnect them to their fully functional self. Once that is accomplished, I will mix and match the parts of different people to create my own perfect being.
Currently, and unfortunately, I have hit a snag. I have been unable to accomplish my goal.
A decision to pursue a career in medicine was my way of learning every aspect of human anatomy and proper medical procedures. It was a good decision that provided access to many bodies, both dead and alive.
In college, love took an unsuspecting hold on me. Her name was Lori Hendrix. Lori was perfect, in every way: beautiful, smart, and from a good family. Self-consciousness ate my confidence, which was a little elusive at the time, but Lori, as beautiful as she was, took an interest in me.
I approached Lori with reluctance. Being just cute enough to catch eyes helped, as Lori started to pay more attention to me. My first date with Lori was lunch at the college dining facility. I would have preferred a more traditional place, but I wasn’t picky. Lori was a beautiful girl. I would have done just about anything for her affections.
I was happy with Lori, but my joy was short lived. Catching the woman I loved having sex with the star football player tore my heart out and inspired me to perfect my gift and release it to this world. The act shattered my heart. Matt and I were total opposites, and I would have never guessed that Lori was interested in that type.
The guys on the football team knew the star, Matt, had a secret peek-hole drilled into his dorm room wall.
Matt had purposely drilled the hole himself, so that his football teammates could share in and preview his sexual adventures with different girls. The dorm wall was adorned with many faded pictures that hung, tilted, inside weathered frames. Matt had drilled the hole behind one of the pictures, so all one had to do was tilt the picture and Matt’s bed would be on display.
The only reason I knew about the hole behind the picture was because a friend of Matt’s was also a good friend of mine. Rusty shared the secret with me. He was one of the nicer members of the football team who, for some reason, liked me.
Rusty ran to me one night, breathless, informing me that he’d seen Lori going into Matt’s room. He was concerned; he knew Lori and I were friends and didn’t want her to become the latest victim in Matt’s little game.
I found myself at the hole in the wall, five minutes later, after sneaking into Matt's dorm. What I observed both excited and disturbed me. I discovered that I liked to watch. I liked being a voyeur, but what disturbed me most was who participated in the act.
My Lori rode Matt like a porn queen. Matt was laying so that the top of his head was facing the hole, which meant that Lori’s entire body and face was on display.
Every few minutes or so, Matt actually glanced at the hole and gave a thumbs up, like it was all a game. He started lifting Lori’s body, so I could see him pumping his large disgusting appendage in and out of her.
Her face revealed all. Lori was not new at this; she was enjoying it, so much so she never noticed the hole in the wall. I couldn’t stop watching, as Lori expertly did things to Matt that I couldn’t imagine her doing to me.
The next day, I found the perfect spot, hidden deep within the woods, on the backside of our dormitory. I pitched a tent a thirty-minute hike into the plush thick brush and trees. I knew couples frequented the woods to drink and have sex, but they never ventured too far-off. Therefore, I wasn't worried about being caught.
I lay out a makeshift instrument table, along with a line of equipment and tools I’d need to explore my fascination. Yes, I was sick by society’s standards, but someday the world would come to embrace my brilliance.
I lured Matt to my tent. Alcohol laced with a sedative aided in enticing him into my web. He was a big guy, so I had to pump him full of drugs to keep him under control. I took him apart. I cut him into pieces, as Lori screamed and fought the rope binding her hands. She threw up while fighting my effort to stick a pair of Matt’s bloody gym socks into her mouth.
I loved her. She told me she loved me, but all I wanted in that moment was to make her pay for her sins against me, against our love. I loved that I frightened her so badly she wet herself. I loved seeing her be the opposite of how she’d been when she was so wet and spread wide for Matt.
Seeing the fear in her eyes gave me wicked ideas. It made me feel powerful. I couldn’t stop thinking back to when I caught her screwing Matt. The scene had ripped me apart, had taken my mind to new depths, and made me embrace my darker habits.
I enjoyed the way it sounded, cutting and sawing through human flesh. The slippery tendons, the sinewy ligaments, the strong muscles and bone. Each sound was distinct and
, for me, relaxing. I enjoyed the sensation of holding quivering warm flesh in my hand while life slipped from it.
While Lori squirmed and screamed, I sawed and hacked my way through her neck. I worked at a measured pace, to ensure I didn’t leave any jagged or rough edges to the parts I severed.
The best part was that they didn’t die while I did this to them. My ability kept them going while I explored my fascination, sometimes even after I had completely dissected their parts.
I enjoyed the fragrance of fresh death before bacteria started to eat away at the flesh and bring about those not so pleasant gases that I’ve learned to tolerate. I never stuck around for the insects; I couldn’t bear to see them destroy my work.
It wasn’t until I’d hacked through Lori’s neck that I realized I still wanted her. I still loved her. A mind-blowing epiphany made me sorry I’d killed her. I shoved her head back onto her body, mushing it against her tender open flesh and protruding bone.
After a while, she started to twitch. Before long, I embraced this untapped power I’d never experienced before. I poured the energy and sheer will into putting Lori back together again. I made her breathe again, enjoyed the deliciously terrifying look on her face again. I was able to kiss her again.
Intrigued by my own power, I tested it. First, taking apart portions of Lori’s body that wouldn’t kill her, immediately. I detached her legs and reattached them and found their motor functions fully restored. I did the same to her arms and her lower body.
My love for Lori was strong, but I couldn’t control my impulse to master my newfound ability. I’d put Lori back together and by the time she was mended, I would be ready to dismantle her again. I was obsessed. Although I hadn’t perfected my craft, I’d gained a good amount of insight during my experiments.
It wasn’t until after I was in medical school that I had the best understanding of the human body. That’s when I started cutting bodies into halves and eventually into thirds. I found that I could not only take them apart, I could keep them apart for long periods of time before death came looking for them. I never treated them as people, only as subjects. Lori was the only one I treated as a person.
Body Box: Adult Paranormal Romance (Supernatural Thriller) (Dark Suspense) (The Smoke & Fire Series Book 2) Page 13