Little Lies by Elena Reyes (popular romance novels txt) 📕

Pitiful. Simply pitiful.

“Ninety seconds.”

That stops his hacking, his entire body freezing. “It was an honest mistake. I thought she was single and—”

“Stalking her became a hobby,” I finish for him; the demon within takes his rightful place. I’m here as a judge and executioner as I don’t believe in the jury system. There’s only one set of laws in the world, and it’s mine. His cardinal sins go against each commandment—his lust for her flesh and bank account are liberties he took while disrespecting me. “How long before it became more?”

“She always comes in alone and ignores anyone that tries to start a conversation.” His eyes avoid mine, his body shaking from his position on the grass. Kneeling. “Today was the first time, I swear. It’ll never happen again.”

“I know.” Before he can blink, I’ve landed another kick, this time to his midsection forcing him to tip back in an uncomfortable position. His arms are tied behind him while his legs are in a forced squat, leaving him flat on his back with knees bent. Then I land a stomp, and the first rib cracks under the pressure. I can hear it snap clearly, feel the bone give beneath my shoe, and I rub the sole against the injured area. “Now, finish your story. Enlighten me.”

“I’ll leave.” His voice cracks, a broken whisper as trails of tears adorn his face.

“You will.” Pressing a little harder, a second rib cracks and he’s smart enough not to yell. Little whimpers escape his lips and I smile, chest rumbling into a low chuckle. “But you’ll have a chance to say goodbye. This is my promise to you.”

“I’d rather just disappear. You’ll never see me alive again.”

“No one will.” Before his next intake of painful breath, I mount his chest and extend all five fingers. The metal shines in the darkness, the light of the moon glinting off the bloodied tips. “Apologize.”

“Don’t kill me.”

“Apologize.”

Tim swallows hard, eyes shifting from my hand to my face. “I’m sorry.”

“May you never find peace.” He doesn’t get to utter a single syllable, his gurgling scream lasting only but a single second as I slice clear across his neck. It’s a straight line that spurts his life’s essence onto my face and neck, staining my clothes. The feel of it on my face is warm and the cooling night breeze quickly forms the substance into a sticky calling that I lick off.

Those vacant eyes stare back at me with pure horror stretched across his expression as I do, a haunting sight of understanding I revel in before standing up, undoing his bindings, and dragging his frail corpse toward her back door.

He’ll greet her in the morning. I promised a final goodbye.

Eerie silence follows as two beady eyes slither into the backyard, passing me as I exit the back of her yard. There’s a secret door behind a large overgrowth of tall cedar trees that makes the back end look more like a tree farm and not a residential area. And yet, they’re well taken care of, covering the metal exit at the center of the brick fence with iron trim that leads to a back alley and side street.

“Not a trace.” At my command, the backyard’s newest guest gives a nod, its white skin glistening in the moonlight while I’m cloaked in darkness. And while I’ll forgo my goodnight kiss tonight, I’ll take her soon enough and savor her sweetness.

My pretty girl is worth the wait.

14

Gabriella

I miss you, pretty girl.

My eyes snap open at those words coming from a voice that tonight doesn’t elicit fear, but familiarity. I’m not shaking or sweating, and the room around me isn’t the one from my dreams where blood touches every single corner as if caressing a fond memory.

Instead, I’m left panting inside my home and on my bed as I recall the heavy feel of eyes on me—watching me—while I dared to finger the edge of a bed which felt familiar, yet I know I’d never seen it much less touched it before. There was also the warmth of secrets shared between those walls and the dream version of myself, because tonight I wasn’t a visitor looking around in fright, but instead a willing participant reminiscing with an old friend.

Maybe I fell and hit my head months back, and this is the insane dreaming of someone trapped in a coma? I muse right before a familiar grunt pulls me away from my thoughts and I look over at my companion of choice. Mr. Pickles is looking up at me from my right, and it’s an expression I’m all too familiar with on his chubby little scrunched-up face: hunger and the need to potty.

“You want to go out?” His response doesn’t come from a verbal cue, but a boop to my arm with his cold nose. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, chubby.”

Another noise of complaint before I can throw my legs over the edge of the bed, he jumps off and sits in front of the door. Mr. Pickles eyes me while I stand and stretch, little grumbles of annoyance passing through his lips while I shimmy my sleep shorts off and toss them aside before grabbing a comfy pair of sweats. I leave the plain grey tank top on with the built-in bra and rush to the bathroom after grabbing my cell, brushing my teeth in a haste while the impatient pup grumbles outside the door.

He eyes me from the threshold the entire time until we’re heading downstairs. Now, he wiggles from beside me with an extra pep in his trot until we reach the bottom step and I lose him as he runs out before me.

The back of my home sits on a decent-sized lot with no neighbor to my left and two large open yards at the side and back of the property. It’s overrun by trees planted by my uncle, and I haven’t had the heart to clear