It looked like blood, except it was the wrong color. Too thick. It almost felt like the slime we used to play with as kids. The kind that stuck to the wall and crawled its way down.
“I feel like a fucking idiot looking back, but at the time… How the hell could I have guessed what was going on?”
Standing beside my boyfriend’s limp body, there was a man. I could only see his legs, his sleek black trousers, and one hand, holding a glock.
This figure is something between man and predatory fish. There is a note scribbled in the margin here that reads: Imagine a merman with no arms and a mouth like a garfish and a big, weird-looking dick. This is the Pelagic Man.
I would ease closer to her once we got out onto one of the long, dark highways she was going to have to take to get out of town. That is when my work would really begin.
She swept the knife across her skin, like she’d done it hundreds of times before. Like she was used to seeing blood.
Sometimes it’s best to let secrets lie if they work in your favor.
It was like everything in the house was having the life drained out of it. Like everything was dying.
I sit beside her grave during my lunch break every damn day. It freaked me out at first, but I got used to it. It even started to feel normal. Like I was where I was meant to be.
I dropped the pages like they were fire and rubbed my hands across my face. What was going on? Why was she sending these to me? Why hadn’t she called me back? I grabbed my phone and dialled Brianna’s number with shaking fingers.