Absolution

by LP Lovell

  His eyes narrow and my heart stops, no, it plummets. A cold sweat breaks out all over me, and I'm dizzy. The fight or flight response kicks in and I reach for the handle of the door, but Ezra's forearm is there slamming me back against the seat and pinning me.

  "Answer me!" And that's a hiss, not a growl. A hiss. He's going to slit my throat and leave me in the gutter right in front of this church.

  "I didn't..." I swallow, trying to catch my breath. "I didn't fuck them." My voice shakes, my body trembles, and Ezra's eyes are still on me. "I didn't fuck them!"

  His arm moves away from my chest, but then, one by one, his fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing. I gasp for breath, clawing at his hands as he yanks me forward, placing my face inches from his.

  "Who fucking owns you, Evie?" His voice is a low rumble.

  "God," I manage to whisper, and I can tell he doesn't like that answer because his fingers dig harder into my skin. My vision dips in and out, and he's going to choke me to death. Ezra would never hurt me. I'm his little killer. I'm his little Evie. I'm not the red-headed slut in the too-tight white dress. He wants to love me.

  "No,” he breathes, his lips brushing across mine. "Try again, little killer." The pressure on my throat loosens as he waits for me to answer him.

  And as bad as it is to say, I say it. "You."

  "Say it again, Evie.'" His voice booms around the car and those butterflies flit around in my stomach.

  Why do I like him angry like this? I'm throbbing between my legs, and he's choking me and yelling at me and he's angry. And I like it because no one's ever owned me, and people protect the things they own, the things the covet. I want to be his precious little killer because then I will be safe. Forever and ever, Amen.

  "Who. Owns. You?" His eyes flicker in anticipation, a small smile creeping over his full lips.

  "You do, Ezra."

  His fingers unwind from my throat as his mouth slams over my trembling lips. He kisses my hard, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth. I bathe in the pain. When we sin, we need to be punished, and punishment is pain. I moan against his lips, reveling in his possession because I am his.

  Tearing his lips away, he looks at me like the bad girl I am. "What am I going to do with you, sweetheart?" His lips twist into a smile, his face softens. "Seems you have a little habit."

  Sweet'art. I narrow my gaze on him.

  "Habit?" I ask.

  His hand trails across my neck before falling back to his lap. "How many have you killed, Evie?"

  "It doesn't matter since they were sinners." In that instant his eyes flicker and I realize he thinks I'm crazy, even though I'm not. "They were bad men, Ezra. They're filthy and nasty and perverts, and they sin, Ezra. They sin! Their hands never leave you. You can't wash that filth away. You can't pray away that grime, and it seeps into you so far... I need to kill them." I gasp for breath and know I only sound more deranged, but it's all true. "I have to kill them. I have to kill them."

  "I have to kill them," she says it with such steadfast belief.

  I release a heavy breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Shit, Evie." She's going to get caught if she keeps going. She's messy, uncontrolled. She might as well just leave a trail of bodies all the way to her front fucking door the way she's going. In fact, no, make that my fucking door. I glance at her, and she's looking at me with wide eyes, her teeth gnawing nervously on her bottom lip.

  "You can't just kill people," I say.

  "I don't just kill people. I kill the people that need to face judgment." She's holding that damn crucifix, twisting it between her fingers.

  Fuck me. I lean my head back against the headrest. "I don't give a shit if they're Mother-Fucking-Theresa, but you're leaving bodies everywhere. You might as well write my fucking name on their foreheads and leave them outside the club door. The police are all over me." I shake my head because this is so fucked up. "You need to stop... whatever this is."

  Her eyes pulse open, and she shakes her head furiously. "I can't stop. I can't stop." She inhales, her nostrils flaring and her jaw clenching. "Please don't make me."

  I drag a hand through my hair in frustration. "Jesus, Evie."

  She buries her face in her palms. This is warped, even for me. Without saying anything, I pull away from the curb. She stays silent as we wind through the heavy New York traffic. Her gaze remains fixed out the window; her knees pulled up to her chest. She looks fragile, and for the first time, I feel like I actually see the damaged depths of her.

  I turn the radio up and don't look at her until I pull up outside my flat. I climb out of the car, but she doesn't budge. I sigh as I walk around and open her door.

  And, of course, now she won't look at me. "Evie?" Nothing.

  For fucks sake. I lean over and release her seat belt. She's still balled up on herself, and I take her wrists, yanking her arms away from her legs.

  "No!" she shouts.

  I don't have the time or patience for her shit right now. A better man might have, but I'm not a better man. I'm a bastard. I forcibly drag her from the car, throwing her up against the side of it. "This can be easy, sweetheart, or—" She starts thrashing wildly. "Hard way it is." I slam the car door and click the lock.c

  Tears streak her face as she tries to pull away from me. "Please,” she begs.

  I bend down and grab the backs of her thighs, throwing her over my shoulder. She screams like a fucking banshee, squirming around and hitting my back.

  "Don't kill me. I don't want to go into the Hudson River. Please!" Her fists pound on my back, and I keep walking towards the lift. Once I'm inside I press the button for my floor. The doors slide shut, and all I can hear are her heavy sobs. "Please don't kill me,” she whispers again.

  I roll my eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, Evie. Shit, you’re the one running around like a mass murderer."

  The lift stops and the doors open. As soon as we're inside my apartment I relax. She can lose her shit all she likes in here. I drop her on the couch, and she lands in a sprawled heap. I turn away from her and grab the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen, taking a hefty swig straight from the bottle.

  "Do you hate me?" She swipes at the tears on her cheeks.

  I take another gulp of whiskey. "No," I sigh. "You kill people. I kill people. Shit happens. The world keeps turning."

  "You kill people, Ezra." She glares at me, still clutching her crucifix. "I kill bad people."

  I narrow my eyes and point at her. "I don't get caught. I don't leave them on the back seat of a fucking car, and I sure as shit don't kill four fucking guys all from the same place in a two-week motherfucking period!" I approach her, towering over where she sits on the sofa. "You'll go to jail Evie, and then you'll go to a psych ward because, according to the law, killing for God is not a legitimate fucking reason to go on a killing spree."

  Her face washes white, and she swallows. "Do you still think I taste like heaven?"

  I drag my hand through my hair, ready to fucking rip it out. I don't even know what to do with her anymore. "Evie, what the—" The buzzer for the front door rings and I take the opportunity to walk away before I lose my shit.

  Evie is addictive, and something about her has me by the balls, but she's crazy, hell maybe it's because she's crazy that I want her so much. In my world, I live on the edge. Being with Evie is like constantly walking a tight-rope—breaking her, owning her, whilst constantly wondering when she'll snap, when I'll push her too far. I'm waiting for the day when she tries to kill me, and when that day comes I'll beat her until she bleeds, I'll fuck her until she cries me a fucking river.

  I yank the door open, and the young guy on the other side of the door jumps back, wide-eyed. He shoves a bunch of white roses in my face and practically runs away. There's a small card addressed to Evie pushed in the middle of the leaves. I slam the door and storm back into the apartment.

  "Who the fuck is sending you flowers?" I dump them on the table, offended by whatever pussy bought her fucking flowers. "And
why are they sending them to my house?" I yank the envelope open and read over the short two lines.

  Evie,

  Ezra can't protect you forever. I so look forward to our time together.

  Zee.

  I'm going to kill him. I don't fucking care what he thinks he does or doesn't have. I'm going to tear him apart one fucking limb at a time. And then I'm going to shove my gun up his arsehole and rape him with it before I pull the motherfucking trigger.

  I grab the vase of flowers and launch it at the wall. Dave leaps up from his bed and jumps onto the sofa next to Evie, cowering against her.

  Evie clutches Dave, pulling him into her lap. "Who..."

  "From now on, you do not leave my sight unless I tell you to. No more of this sneaking out bullshit, Evie." I point at her. "And I swear to your fucking God that if you disobey me, I will leave you in that club, chained to that cross, and let you really get in touch with your religion." I throw the card on the sofa next to her, and she picks it up, her small hands shaking as she reads over the words.

  "I don't want to stay with you. I don't like you like this," she whispers.

  I lean over her, cupping her face firmly and dragging my thumb across the corner of her lip, smearing her lipstick. "Who owns you, Evie?" I ask.

  "You do..."

  "And who protects you, Evie?"

  Her eyes lock on mine, tears welling within them. "You do."

  I fist my hand in her hair, wrenching her head back and bringing her face to mine. I slam my lips against hers, stroking the side of her throat with my free hand. "I do," I mumble against her lips.

  Ezra isn't mad at me any longer. I promised I’d be a good girl, and I think he believes me. I follow him as he heads toward the door, shoving his gun in his waist. I don't want him to leave me.

  "Just stay here." Ezra glares at me. "I'll be back in an hour. I've got my phone, you've got Dave, Jonny is outside. Lock the door."

  "Please, don't leave me."

  He sighs and drags his hand down his face. "Evie, I can't take you with me to this, and you sure as hell aren't going to the club. I'll be right back." He opens the door and shoots me one last glare. "Don't you fucking leave." The door slams shut. "Lock it. Now," he shouts from the other side.

  I quickly push the deadbolt in place and glance back at Dave who's laid on his bed and staring at me. I fall back on the couch, and Dave jumps up beside me, resting his head in my lap.

  "What do we do now?" I ask and his tail slowly wags.

  I turn the television on, and wait. An hour and a half later, Ezra's still gone. I can't help but feel there was a reason he didn't want me to go with him. One I wouldn't like. What if he's lying to me? An overwhelming urge to know what he's doing consumes me. It's Tuesday. I glance at my watch. It's five o'clock. Every Tuesday at five o' clock he goes to the local Starbucks and orders a latte' while he waits to meet someone. I glance at the door, and I know I shouldn't leave. He wants you to believe his lies, little killer. I have to know what he is doing, and why I couldn't come.

  "Want to go for a walk?" I ask, pushing Dave off of me. He circles around me, jumping and barking, his tail going crazy. I quickly fasten his leash and we leave the apartment.

  The city workers are shoveling the fresh layer of snow off the sidewalk. Dave whines when his paw sinks into the wet snow. I yank on his leash, forcing him to walk. I'm not stupid, I see the guy get out of the black Audi parked across the street. I feel him following me. I know he'll tell Ezra, but I'm just walking the dog.

  The closer we get to Starbucks, the harder my heart pounds. There's something romantic about watching him when he doesn't know that I am. I slow my pace and stop at the corner of the window. From here I can see the table Ezra always sits at. He's staring down at his phone, one hand on his cup. My lips curl into a smile, but then fire engulfs me. That redhead, Jen, has just sat down at his table. She crosses her legs, her grey dress riding high on her thighs. Ezra glances up at her and arches a brow before looking back down at his phone.

  Dave pulls on the leash, whining. "Stop it!" I hiss.

  I watch Jen swipe her filthy little whore hands over his arm. I want to cut her fingers off.

  She tosses her loose, red curls behind her head and laughs. And I want to shove a dirty rag down her throat until she gags.

  Dave growls, pulling harder on the leash and I'm tempted to let the damn dog go. Ezra smiles at something she says. He never smiles at me like that. He loves her. And I love him. And all he does is own me. I want him to love me, not her. Jen stands up and walks over to Ezra, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek. I will kill her. He fucked her against that window— the window he's never fucked me against. He buried his cock deep inside her. He made her his. And he still wants her even though he saved me. I am his sinner, but she is his sin. You must kill him, Evelyn. He is a liar. A user. He has come between you and your work. Grant Hannah peace. Kill him. I don't want to kill him. I love him. Who do you love more, God or Ezra? Kill him.

  I feel tears prick at my eyes as I spin around and snake my way through the crowded sidewalk. Dave trots ahead of me, wagging his tail. I feel guilty because poor Dave is going to be without a master. I'll have to keep him, it would only be right, and then I can still have some piece of Ezra with me.

  "Please don't make me kill him. I love him," I plead under my breath when I reach his apartment building.

  Love is a sin. Ezra was mine. The way she pressed her slutty lips against his cheek—he didn't push her away. He smiled because he wants her naked and pressed against his window, not me. My heart is angry and it drums against my ribs the more I think about it. My mind is a jumbled wreck of lies and betrayal and rage and confusion. I thought he was the devil, I thought he was a god, and now I think he's nothing more than a filthy, worthless man. A pervert, a whore. The kind of man I kill because it is my job. I must remember my job... He made me believe my religion was pointless. He made me question my motives. I may love him, but I must kill him.

  As I climb the stairs to his apartment, tears stream down my face. I don't want to kill him, but I have no choice. I'm going to do what I should have done long ago. I let the devil in and I sinned. I sinned. I sinned... but now I will make it right.

  As soon as I walk into the apartment, Dave shakes the snow from his coat and hops onto the couch.

  "I'm so sorry Dave," I whisper as I walk to the dresser and open my make-up box. I pull out my foundation, carefully painting it onto my face, covering each blemish, every imperfection with each stroke. I dip my brush into the charcoal eyeshadow, sweeping it over my eyelids. I take my time drawing a perfect line around my eyes with the black liner, making certain to coat my lashes in a thick layer of mascara, and finally, before I leave the room, I cover my lips in blood-red lipstick. I look like a porcelain doll, like something breakable and valuable. And that's what Ezra wants. Looks mean nothing. The devil was an angel, a beautiful angel, and he damned all of mankind to hell.

  Dave has been pacing and whimpering ever since we got back. I'm certain he can hear my little demon, and it's angry.

  "Forgive me for straying," I whisper as I twist the cap to the whiskey and pull the vial from my purse. "Forgive me for letting that man defile my body. Forgive me for believing his lies."

  I dump a cup of ice into a glass and then pour the whiskey over it, watching the golden liquid weave its way between the cubes, listening to the ice crack beneath its heat. Taking the vial, I pop the cap and dump the powder into the drink, my stomach knotting as I watch the poison dissipate. I don't want to do this. I tuck the empty vial safely away in my purse. "And forgive Ezra for the sins he's committed. Amen."

  That last one hurt...

  I glance out the window, and see him coming toward the entrance of the building. I begin to count in my head. One. Two. Three... I perch myself on the kitchen counter, crossing my legs. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. My heart thumps against my chest, my insides jittery with anticipation. I shake my hair out and adjust my cleavag
e, before I lean back. I place one hand on the cold granite while holding Ezra's drink in the other hand, and I wait. Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven. The seconds seem like torture, and part of me wonders if I am strong enough to do this. I glance down at the drink, tempted to throw it down the sink. Don't do it, Evelyn.

  I count out the one hundred and twenty seconds of extreme agony as I wait for him to come to me, to his little killer. I hear his keys jingle, the lock clicks, and the hinges to the door creaks as he opens it.

  He walks into the kitchen, stopping when he sees me sat on his kitchen counter on full display. Beauty makes all men weak, even gods. His eyes narrow on me, and he tosses his keys on the counter.

  "What are you doing, Evie?"

  "Waiting for you." I grin. "What took you so long?" I ask, smiling deeper. The image of him grinning at Jen replays in my head, and all I want to do is pour this fucking drink down his throat and watch him gasp for his last breath. Patience, Evelyn.

  He grips my chin, dragging his thumb over my bottom lip like he always does. "What have I told you about asking questions, little killer?"

  I hold the drink out, the ice clinking against the side of the glass. "I poured you a drink." My pulse hammers through my veins because I know if he figures out what I'm doing he will beat me and fuck me and kill me. If he finds out, I will be floating in the Hudson River by dawn.

  His gaze locks on mine and pins me in place. He cocks his head to the side while a small smile plays across his lips. "How nice of you."

  Ezra steps toward me, taking the glass from my hand. His stare is unwavering, and it narrows accusingly on me, his eyes flickering.

  I can't breathe.

  He moves closer, grabbing my thigh. He uncrosses my leg and shoves the other to the side as he steps between my thighs. The heat from his body spreads over my bare skin, and I almost regret what I'm about to do because I will miss this. His fingers dig into my skin as he brings the glass to his lips. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands shake. One large gulp, that's all it will take, and this dance with the devil will be over. I will be free of my sin, cleansed in the eyes of God.