Can't Buy the Moonlight

Chapter Forty-One: Mason

*This chapter mentions incest and prescription overdose. If you or someone you love is suffering from depression/anxiety and having thoughts of suicide, there is help out there. Please reach out. The suicide hotline is (800)273-8255 or reach out via their website at https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

I stared down at her.

Me, psychotic?

Oh, dear Emma, you know nothing about psychos. Absolutely nothing.

However, you're about to find out.

I lifted her from the floor, bringing her over to the large bed that sat against the wall. Laying her down on it, I proceeded to remove her clothes, leaving Emma in only her bra and panties. I took the moment to touch the swell of her breast, feeling her soft nipple through her bra. I couldn't wait to taste it and her.

The hole in her stomach continues to pump out bright shiny red blood, staining the sheets under her body as I move her. Placing some wadded-up paper towel on her bullet hole, I admired her beauty as she bled out on my bedsheets. I didn't care. I finally had her and I was going to do everything in my power to keep her.

She had absolutely no idea who the fuck she was dealing with. None what-so-ever. I've killed way more people than dear old dad ever did. I killed my own mother and sister without any thought of the consequences and enjoyed it, even fucking them both once they were dead. Seemed appropriate to do it after they were dead and not when they were alive. Incest and all that. Once they were dead, they weren't related to me any longer.

Mom was easy. She was already diagnosed as clinically depressed, so it was nothing to slip the whole bottle of her prescription of Tofranil into her nighty whiskey drink. (Remember kids, don't mix antidepressants and alcohol). Mom blamed herself for not keeping her children from danger. After the trials, she changed her last name to Stow and removed herself from the limelight. Mom didn't suspect anything when I brought her the drink instead of her personal assistant. She thanked me, drank the whole thing in one gulp, and within minutes was gone. 

Tala always was a pain in the ass. She fought me, which so didn't work in her favor. She refused the "peace offering" of muffins and pasties, instead choosing to yell at me and refusing me entrance inside her posh New York apartment. It was her last mistake. I kicked in the door, knocking her over in the process as I barged into the small hallway and started stabbing her. She screamed and plead for her life, but in the end, was no match for me and my anger. If only she'd taken the small bakery basket and eaten the food, then her death wouldn't have been so messy.  

I've killed hookers, soccer moms, and annoying professors with nary a thought of getting caught. I'll never be caught. I'll continue to live my life as I've been, and no one was going to stop me.

Glancing down at the prone form of Emma, I made sure she was still breathing before I walked away from the bed. I made my way to the door, turning to look at her one more time before I walked out into the dark hallway. Night must have fallen while we were discussing things.

I made my way back to the kitchen, cleaning up the blood from earlier when I heard the crunch of gravel under tires. Now, who the fuck was here?

I went to the kitchen window that overlooked the driveway, my eyes narrowing as I watched a red Jeep came into view. It parked next to Emma's car before all four doors opened and her friends poured out. I watched as Matt and the guy she worked for walk over to her car and lean in, grabbing the phone I'd left behind so we wouldn't be interrupted.

My mistake, and one I wouldn't make again. Her friends needed to go.