Shallow River

by H. D. Carlton

  After this is all said and done, I’m still determined to show her what a real relationship looks like. I’m not even worried if she wants me back. I know she does.

  “This is my kill, Mako,” she says softly, tuning me back into the conversation. “I got myself—you—into this. And I will be the one to take him out.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight.”

  Twenty

  River

  MAKO STANDS BESIDE ME, despite me asking him to stay downstairs. He refused and followed me up just to look at pathetic ol’ Ryan, hanging by a rope from the ceiling. It’s only been two days and he’s dehydrated and suffering from blood loss. His arms are turning grey with a slight blue tint, all blood having drained from his limbs some time ago. Part of me wants to let them down so he can feel the sharp burning pain.

  “I promised myself I’d shove something up his ass,” I state calmly. Mako’s head snaps towards me much faster than the slow lift of Ryan’s head. He glares at me with a heat of a hot poker in a bonfire.

  “Why?”

  “For the times he shoved his dick up my ass and brutally raped me,” I reply, my voice calm and even. I rub my lips together, pop them and tack on, “Twice.”

  Mako’s reaction, however, is opposite of mine. He nearly explodes, his body jerking with shock and then bristling when the familiar wrath Ryan provokes in Mako takes over.

  He stalks over to Ryan in two big steps, brings his fist back and powers it forward straight into Ryan’s face. The crunch of his nose breaking beneath Mako’s fist is entirely satisfying. A loud groan slips from Ryan’s mouth as blood gushes from his broken nose and down his mouth and neck. The blood drips onto the floor, joining the rest of his mess.

  At this point, there’s more of Ryan’s blood on the floor than inside his own body. I had gone to a hole-in-the-wall hardware store down in Shallow Hill that I was sure didn’t have cameras and bought rolls of plastic, using cash only. He’s in the middle of the room, with no objects around so the blood spatter won’t be too much of a hassle to clean. Aside from my poor little victim, there’s only a single bulb up here. Not even a window for ventilation.

  The attic is one of the few rooms in this mansion that was never finished, though it’s not the typical dusty, creepy attic in most houses. Ryan would always have Mary and Ava come up here once a week and keep up the maintenance. Like any house, Ryan stored family memories up here and didn’t want them compromised by nature.

  I study the scene before me with delight. If Mako can get out some of his pent-up aggression from the way Ryan has treated him their entire lives, I would only be happy to witness that.

  Mako was abused by Ryan too, after all. Verbally, mentally, emotionally. Maybe even physically, if I know anything about Ryan. Those are all critical aspects to a growing child—especially one who was born into the life Mako was born into. I’ve no idea what Mako went through before he met Julie and Matt, but I can guess it wasn’t pleasant. Regardless, he didn’t deserve Ryan’s abuse any more than me or Alison did.

  Ryan curses at Mako, calling him every name in the Devil’s handbook. Each insult is followed up by another hit to the face. Blood splatters across Mako’s face. A droplet lands on my toe. I stare at the droplet, flesh hitting flesh and Ryan’s increasingly slurred speech the backdrop to my straying thoughts.

  Ryan may have suffered immeasurable pain at the hands of his father, but that was never Mako’s fault. And that was never mine or any other woman’s fault, either. Ryan took his anger out on the innocent, and it’s unforgiveable.

  I refuse to feel remorse for a man who doesn’t believe he did anything wrong.

  I’m going to have to kill him. Murder Ryan in cold blood. This tiny droplet of blood is going to stain my skin forever. Even when it washes away, I’ll still see it. I’ll see it there, and I’ll see it coating my hands.

  Can I live with that?

  Can I live with myself knowing that I was the reason a life drained from a person’s eyes?

  I wiggle my toes, another droplet landing on them.

  Yeah, I can. I’ve taken back the power stolen from me, wielded it like a weapon, and slayed my demons.

  Mako storms away from a limp, bloodied Ryan and comes to stand behind me. He’s heaving, rage still prevalent on his face. I glance down to see his bloody, shredded knuckles. I lick my lips. A darkness is spreading throughout my soul, tainting it black.

  Mako covered in blood is a delicious sight. I want to be just as bloody as he is.

  “Have fun with her, bro,” Ryan garbles through the blood pouring into his mouth. He spits it out and licks his lips, as if that’ll help. “You’re dating a psychopath. Now that she’s got a taste for torture and murder, what makes you think she’ll stop? She’s the perfect fucking formula for a serial killer. It’s almost boring.”

  I look up the ceiling, seriously contemplating killing another person. Maybe if they were a rapist like Ryan. A truly shitty person—an absolute monster that preys on the innocent and weak. But would I grab a random off the street and torture and kill them? The thought makes me want to vomit. It doesn’t matter what Ryan says, I know deep down I could never kill someone who’s innocent.

  “I don’t really have much interest in covering up a bunch of dead bodies,” I answer dryly. “Yours is going to be inconvenient enough.”

  Ryan laughs, the sound nearly reaching the same pitch as a hyena. “Good luck explaining this to my parents,” he mocks, his eyes piercing Mako and I with glee.

  For some reason, it bothers me that he says my parents. Like Mako being adopted doesn’t qualify Julie and Matt as his parents, too. They raised him from early childhood. They’re just as much as Mako’s parents as they are Ryan’s.

  Even if one of them also deserves to die.

  I whip my hand out, slashing my knife across Ryan’s face. The cut is superficial. Wouldn’t even leave a scar. But it still stings him nonetheless.

  “They’re Mako’s parents, too,” I bite out.

  Ryan doesn’t acknowledge that. Beside me, Mako’s eyes are burning a hole in the side of my head. I refuse to meet his eyes, not quite ready to face the emotion I’ll see. Connecting with someone romantically while murdering my abusive boyfriend doesn’t sit right with me. Messes with my inner peace.

  “They know I’d never kill myself. You can’t pass this off as a suicide. The minute I’m late for work, Dad will know something is wrong. I’m too important, you can’t just explain my life away,” Ryan taunts, his voice growing stronger as does his confidence.

  I tilt my head to the side and study him closely. His dirty blonde hair is stuck to his head with sticky sweat. The shady blues eyes that are windows to a dark and decrepit soul. And his full lips that house too-straight teeth and a wicked tongue. His skin is drained of all color, and slick with perspiration. I’ve never seen Ryan look so dirty and unkempt. That alone brings me satisfaction.

  He thinks we’ll have no choice but to let him go. That maybe we’ll try to work out a deal for his silence. He’ll ask for something substantial—probably impossible, and we’ll plead for him to never speak of this.

  It was a mistake, I got angry, I didn’t mean to cause you so much harm.

  And then he’ll once again have power over me and his big brother. It’ll make the pain he endured worth it.

  Yeah.

  Not going to happen.

  I don’t bargain with rapists and abusers. I’d rather hurt them.

  I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly, causing the slow victorious smile on Ryan’s face to slip. “I’m not worried about it.”

  Except I am. Just a little. Not that I have much of a life worth living. I’d go to prison for this for sure, especially with Matt as Ryan’s father. Shit, Ryan could put me away with just himself anyway. To be honest, I’d end up just killing myself, taking the coward’s way out. What would be the point in living? I’ve never really had one to begin with. I’m certainly not going to find it within the confines of a dir
ty prison cell with my new wife undressing me with her eyes from the top bunk.

  But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blast my abuse before I do. I’m sure Alison would back me up. Mako too. Ryan’s reputation will burn in the same flames I go down in.

  Together forever, baby.

  “You should be,” he chides, tsking at me. I roll my eyes in response. He rears back in disgust at my childish response. I walk over to grab my favorite box leaning against the wall, pull out a Girl’s Scout cookie and take a bite, munching on the sinful treat with a bored expression.

  “Do you realize how many people are going to be looking for me? You’re suspect number one. Especially if you tell people I hit you. The more you make me out to be the villain, the worse you’ll look.”

  I frown. “Who said I’m going to make you out to be the villain?” He falters, momentarily confused by my admission. He expected me to cry wolf. “I’ll act like the loving, doting girlfriend that I’ve been the last two years. I’ll cry my little eyes out and mourn your death. But when I’m alone, I’ll make myself cum every time I think about the fact that you’re six feet under and I was the one who put you there.”

  Ryan’s eyes widen gradually as I speak. By the time I’m done, he’s shaking. Realization has hit that I’m not interested in kissing his blue little toes and begging for forgiveness. The asshole is rattling like a bare tree in winter winds. Any minute now, he’ll be ripped from the ground and blow straight into a fucking woodchipper.

  “You will fucking pay for this, River. So will you,” he spits, swinging his simmering glare to Mako. Neither of us deign him a response. Giving him any type of assurance or satisfaction would certainly keep me up at night after this is all said and done. Never mind the torture and killing—knowing that he found even the smallest thing to hold onto in his last days would have me tossing and turning all night.

  I need my beauty sleep, considering I got so little of it in the duration of our relationship. He owes me that much.

  “Aren’t you sickened by this?” Ryan shrieks in bewilderment, staring at Mako as if he grew fins and is reverting to the fish he was named after.

  Truthfully, I don’t expect Mako to want me anymore. I’ve shown the depths of my depravity. I’ve made it more than clear that I’m the furthest thing from remorseful about my actions. Actually, I’ve made it clear that I’m enjoying it, too.

  Mako’s too… good. And the thought of losing something like that before I’ve ever had it hurts. But I can deal with it. I’ll recover and if I somehow get away with this, I’ll live the rest of my life with Mako tucked into the back corner of my brain, only to come out when my vibrator is resting on my clit.

  Said man just curls his arms across his chest and cocks a brow in boredom. “I’m a detective. I’ve seen worse. And I also know exactly how to cover up a murder,” he reminds.

  “Why would you want to help a psychopath, Mako? You know she’s going to kill you next.”

  “I’m growing bored of your lackluster bargaining skills. How are you a lawyer?” I cut in. If I’m being honest, I don’t want that seed to plant in Mako’s head. I’ve accepted the fact that he won’t want me, but that doesn’t mean I want him to think I’m the same type of monster as his brother.

  “Let’s just get this over with, River, yeah?” Mako says. I try to pick apart his tone, find any type of emotion in there. But he’s completely devoid of it, and I’m not sure how to interpret that.

  “First,” I announce. “Who’s the Ghost Killer, Ryan?”

  I already know who it is, but I’d prefer it coming from Ryan’s mouth. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to approach that situation. Eventually, I’d have to tell Mako the truth. He won’t forgive me for holding onto that secret. Even now, I’m not sure what’s stopping me. What would my psychology books say?

  Oh, yeah. That I’m terrified of Billy. Billy is my proverbial kidnapper. He trapped me in a house, brainwashed me to believe that if I escape, I’m going to die, and then left me in the house alone with the door wide open.

  I’m too scared to walk out that door, in fear that Billy will be right there waiting for me.

  Ryan tips his head back and laughs. Laughs and laughs, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “Like I’d ever fucking tell you that,” he cackles, the sound manic and unhinged. “You’ll never fucking know who it is, and he’s been right under your nose the entire time.”

  Mako’s tenses but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just stares Ryan down with a cold indifference, committing his last moment with his brother to memory. I watch Mako closely, waiting to see if he wants to keep trying.

  “I’ll make your death less painful,” I bargain.

  Mako whips his head towards me. “No, River.”

  Ryan just glares at me. “Fuck you, bitch. I’m not telling him anything.”

  I sigh, resigned to the fact that if Mako doesn’t catch him soon, the Ghost Killer’s identity will be coming out of my mouth. And that thought terrifies me more than the prospect of getting caught for Ryan’s murder.

  “Just do it,” Mako orders quietly. I catch his green eyes in mine and find nothing but assurance. He’s telling me it’s okay, and it breaks my heart that Ryan is still hurting Mako, even when facing death.

  Calmly, I walk over to the broken broomstick, covered with double-sided tape, all except for the jagged tip. Dangling on the tip of the stick is Ryan’s ugly ass engagement ring. On the tape, are tiny pieces of Ryan’s favorite mug. When he sees me coming with it, he fights hard, ripping his body side to side, trying to dislodge the ropes, but only succeeding in dislodging his shoulders from their sockets.

  Mako doesn’t turn away when I pull down his shorts, grab his limp dick and begin sawing it off with the boxcutter. Instead, he grabs the roll of duct tape, rips off a piece and slaps it over Ryan’s mouth to quiet the manic screaming ripping from his throat.

  I gag a little as I complete my task. I may be a tad unhinged, but fuck, this is gross. When I’m done, I take a deep breath to try and steady my churning stomach. Then, without further hesitance, I shove the broomstick up Ryan’s ass.

  Even duct tape can’t contain Ryan’s screams. And that shit can fix almost anything.

  It takes a minute for Ryan to pass out from the pain. Another four before he bleeds out and dies. He was on the brink of death anyway.

  Not for one single moment does Mako look away from my murder. From his murder now, too. He may have not actually done the killing, but he would be considered an accomplice in court.

  My stomach is still turning. Now that I’ve officially killed a human being, I need a moment to gather myself. I just did some fucked up things to a live person. And though my gag reflux is working overtime right now, I can’t find it in myself to regret it, either.

  “You didn’t have to stay for that,” I say softly, covered head to toe in blood and gore. I must look like Carrie from Stephen King’s book.

  Ever so slowly—too slowly—his eyes rip away from the gory scene before him and slide to mine. He’s as cool as a cucumber. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or worried.

  “I did,” he says. “I don’t feel sorry for him. Not after seeing what he did to Alison, and especially not after seeing what he did to you. I’ve watched a monster grow into the devil from the moment I was welcomed into the family. I’m not going to mourn his death.”

  I don’t say anything for a moment as I contemplate his words. Ryan’s words wriggle like parasitic worms through my brain, and despite constantly reminding myself that Mako will be running for the hills soon, I still have to ask. That weak part of me still seeks that assurance.

  “Are you disgusted by me?”

  His stare never wavers. “I’m proud of you, River.”

  DESPITE WEARING GLOVES, MY hands are shaking from the burn of bleach. This entire attic has been scrubbed. Even the ceiling. The fumes of bleach are overwhelming, despite the mask and safety glasses. When we’re done, I boil a pot of vinegar, place it th
e room and close the door. Getting rid of the bleach smell is vital. The fans are going but that’s not a quick enough solution.

  Luckily, Mary and Ava are scheduled to come tomorrow morning, finishing off anything we missed and giving us a valid reason for the smell of cleaning solution. Normally they come on Sunday’s, but given the situation, I rescheduled, citing that Ryan was gone for the weekend and I had the house cleaning handled. It’s the only thing I’ve done thus far that will look suspicious in court if they decided to indict me. But more than likely, it won’t hold up in court considering the girls know I always insist on cleaning up after myself.

  Which is why the girls won’t be surprised by the smell of bleach. There’s been countless occasions of them catching me already cleaning by the time they arrive. And with the lack of ventilation up there, any cops or detectives aren’t going to think twice when they go up and get a faint whiff of bleach.

  After Ryan’s life was snuffed out, we immediately got to work on disposing of him and cleaning up the attic. By the time we got back, it was close to eleven at night.

  It was messy, to say the least. And I may have vomited a few times. It required trespassing on private property, but his remains were taken to a farm and fed to the pigs. It was the only sure thing that would guarantee no bones or parts of Ryan would be found. Besides, trespassing is the least of the sins we committed today.

  Mako and I didn’t leave until every bit of him was consumed.

  The weapons I used to torture Ryan were bleached and then buried deep in the woods. The ring had came out with the broomstick when I removed it from Ryan’s body. Even though it disgusts me, I ended up cleaning that, too. It would look suspicious if I’m not wearing my engagement ring while I pretend that my loving boyfriend has gone missing. As soon as I deem it appropriate, I’ll burn the ring.