𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝟏𝟒 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

We were back in Otto's car, driving away from a place of bad memories to the place of other bad memories. I couldn't help but feel like I was running from my terrible fate to an even worse one.

Otto looked worried, and I tried my best to avoid eye contact with him. He had a reason for it but seeing him this way was not helping me to feel better.

I was sick. Sick from the person looking at me in the reflection of the window. She looked like me. But it wasn't Ria, in whose body I lived for eighteen years. She was a stranger whose actions were just like my father's. I feared the day I become this person and that day came. Now I shared the same face with her.

At first, I didn't realize what I had done. That was until Otto and I crossed the first street, which gave me the opportunity to think about everything in silence. For a few seconds, I stared at the road, then at my hands. Bloody hands. No matter for how long I had closed my eyes, as soon as I opened them again – the blood was still there, showing me the sin, I had committed.

White lines on the road make sense to drivers. And according to some people, EVERYTHING that happens, happens for a reason. So why can't I see any significance in killing David? It doesn't matter if he was one of those who kidnapped my mom. He was a person like me. And I killed him.

"Do you really think I should play instead of Cooper?" Otto asked. The despair in his voice proved to me how hard was he trying to start a simple conversation. I knew he did it, only to show me he was not blaming me for David's death, and neither should I. But how could I not? After all, it was me who beat him like an animal with no self-control.

I nodded weakly in agreement, but the expected words did not come out of me. I really didn't feel like talking. And even though Otto always knew when to keep his mouth shut, he didn't stop now.

"Are you hungry?" No answer from me. "I am, to be honest. Can you hear how loud my stomach is?" Silence again. "Should we go somewhere along the way?" Does he really think he'll get anything out of me? "I would kill for fries! Shit, no, not kill, I-... what about pizza? Is pizza a good idea? What do you think?" Otto's brown eyes mesmerized me, trying to force me to speak.

"I think you should keep driving and pay attention to the road," I replied curtly, thinking these few words will silence him, at least for a while. I was wrong. Instead, he started buzzing at me more.

In addition to blaming myself for killing someone, I felt guilty because, with my childish behavior, I made Otto feel like shit. Like the best friend he is, he tried to untie the knot of dark thoughts getting tighter around my neck, that was suffocating me. I understood, and I appreciated everything he did. But I couldn't let him take the burden off my shoulders that was pushing me to the ground. That would mean that I am reconciled with what I have done. And I was not.

You can't even imagine how pleased I was when Otto fell silent. The joy passed me as soon as I saw the reason why he stopped talking.

Police car.

Fuck.

Oh, didn't I forget to mention what we did with David's body?

Lucifer often burned or buried the bodies of his victims nearby in the woods, which I also planned to do, even though doing it would bring me closer to his similarity, and didn't want that. Otto vehemently rejected this idea, saying that the daylight and wandering tourists are a threat to us. He was afraid that someone could see us, and I fully understood these worries. But... if that happened, wouldn't it be me who would have a serious problem? If they have accused Otto of helping me cover up a crime, I would allow him to defend himself by saying that I am a mentally disturbed murderer, who had been blackmailing him and telling him, that if he doesn't help me, he will be the one I bury. I've got nothing to lose anyway.

So what? I would rot in prison, and all questions would remain unanswered. I would never know who kidnapped Beatrice and what happened to her. Or why David Jensen came to kill me. Or where did my father go...

I wondered what his reaction to this mess would be. Would he come to see my criminal proceedings? Or would he rather pack his bags and run away? Maybe the police would have interrogated him and found out the things he did. At least, most of them. They would put him in a cell next to me, and all the headlines would talk about nothing else but our criminal family.

Otto slowed the vehicle. I looked at two cops in neon vests, instructing us to stop. I wildly fluttered with lashes, trying to shake them, and hoping they would disappear. Instead, we were closer and closer to them, and I had no choice but to pray so they didn't do any thorough car inspection.

For a second, this crazy thought flashed through my mind. What if they know what we're carrying? Is it possible that someone saw Otto putting a motionless corpse into the trunk of his car? If so, they could easily have reported it to the police, who would have come to this place by then. And now they were just waiting to surprise us.

My throat went dry. With the corner of my eye, I looked at Otto, who swallowed hard. He tried so much to look brave. If I hadn't known him, I would probably have believed him. But I did know him, and I could tell he was just as scared inside as I was.

"Don't worry, just try to act naturally," he said in an unnaturally high voice. I nodded but didn't understand if he was serious about what he expected of me. How am I supposed to act naturally? I just killed someone, and he wanted me to act like I was coming back from an amazing road trip or chill weekend.

We stopped.

Now I had a good view of both cops and could take a closer look. One was a man in his forties. He walked to Otto with an intention to complete police formalities. Another policeman was actually a young woman, who had chosen me. Quickly, but not suspiciously, I tucked my hands under my thighs as the policewoman looked through the window. She gave me a long inquisitive gaze that was more than unpleasant to me.

At first, I pretended to be interested in the cop's conversation with Otto, so I managed to escape her predatory eyes that were burning a hole into my rotten interior. Then I've realized I can't hide from her forever, so I turned my head in her direction, intuitively sending her questions like What are you looking at me like that? Do you think I'm a crazy killer?

This finally forced her to leave me alone, and go to the back of the car, which made my chest tighten. What if she had a special smell for corpses? Really, how long does it take for them to begin to decompose and for us to smell them? After all, it was impossible for David's body to smell within a few hours. I shook my head at this absurd thought, waiting to see if the situation would develop in our favor.

A piece of conversation with the cop got into my ears.

"Looks like your documents are all right, Mr. Wilder," the officer announced, giving me a quick glance. The woman, suddenly appearing beside him, whispered something in his ear. The man nodded and asked, "What is with your friend if I may ask? She doesn't look the best."

And... we're screwed.