Beyond The Fury

Chapter Thirty-Seven

(Song- Bury A Friend by Billie Eilish)
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Ivory's POV

Whilst the highways and streets are busy with cars and bright lights... the train tracks are quite literally invisible. They pass by towns and cities and go almost completely unnoticed. They are quiet.. and dark..

No one would suspect a thing...

~~~~

"Are you insane?!" I screech as I follow Bruce into the private staff room.

"He is a person! He is someone's son... someone's brother! We can't..." I shake my head, suddenly breathless as I bring my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose, "We can't do this to him, Bruce.. we can't." My voice cracks as I let down my defences, tears spring to my eyes but I bite my tongue to keep myself quiet.

"Hardin will have me fucking killed if I let this shit escalate, Ivory! So be my fucking guest if you want to deal with it in a more 'appropriate' manner, but when Scott comes for your head then don't bitch and moan about it." Bruce is on a whole other level of anger- or is it stress? I don't have time to try and distinguish the difference because I'm too busy thinking about Hardin...

When Bruce said his name... the air was knocked from my lungs. And suddenly... the whole world went quiet. So quiet that I could hear my own heart beating in my ears.

"Okay." I gulp down the huge lump that has forced its way into my throat and nod my head, "What do you suggest we do then?" I ask, but I find myself wondering if I even want to know the answer.

"We need to dispose of the body. He was last seen here, entering the bar, so we need an alibi. We didn't kill him, but it sure as hell looks like we did." Bruce hesitates for a moment, his eyebrows creased together as I watch the gears twist and turn in his head.

"The train tracks are quite literally invisible. They pass by towns and cities and go almost completely unnoticed. They are quiet.. and dark.. No one would suspect a thing..." His words make my skin turn cold, he wants to dump the body near the train tracks? Wouldn't someone see... or even be suspicious of a massive tarpaulin wrapped object lying in the bushes?

"What if someone reports seeing a weird object laying near the tracks?" I push further, this plan has to be fool proof.

"We chop him up."

I gag. Out loud at the mere thought of it.

"No." I stare at Bruce, my eyes scream authority but he looks un-phased. What a sick motherfucker.

"You are out of your fucking mind if you think I'm doing anything remotely close to that!" I shout, I need to get my point across, because apparently Bruce's head is a little too thick to understand.

"Did I say you had too? No. No I didn't. I'll deal with this shit, I can't have you getting tangled in this." His demeanour has changed and I glance over at the cold body near by. Shivers tickle down my spine in the most haunting way and I force myself to look away.

"How can I help?" I ask. My whole life I've always had to prove myself, I've always had to show that I could help if I was needed, that I was able to do something meaningful. I didn't want anyone thinking I wasn't worth their time... I wanted people to need me. I wanted them to want me around.

"Stay out of it. Go home, lock the fucking door and keep your mouth shut. We clear?" Bruce points his finger in my face and I slap it away.

"Crystal." I answer back in a tone so cold it makes goosebumps arise on my skin. How dare he.. how fucking dare he. Why would he tell me all the things he was planning to do to the innocent- the poor- soul that lays lifeless in the corner if he wasn't even going to allow me to help? Why would he plague my mind with such horrid thoughts and images?

Prick.

The whole walk home I am riddled with paranoia, constantly fighting the urge to look over my shoulder. Something is off about all of this... really off.

As I enter through my front door a familiar feeling washes over me as I stare into the darkness. A feeling I have felt before... but I'm not afraid this time.

Keeping my breathing controlled I step lightly towards the kitchen, a wall separates the kitchen from the living area, giving me some sort of shield as I search for an object- something I can use to defend myself if shit hits the fan.

I'm not going to let the past repeat itself, I'm just so sick and tired of bullshit and I'd rather die than let someone walk all over me again.

I slowly roll out the kitchen drawer, careful not to make any noise as I pick out a kitchen knife. It's handle sits comfortable in my hand as I hold it securely, strong enough to drive it through someone's chest if I need too.

My eyes look around the darkened space and I take in a deep but quiet breath, trying to see if I can smell anything out of the ordinary... but all I can smell is my own perfume.

Tip-toeing back out into the hallway I keep my steps fast but light as I approach the living area. I push my back flush against the hallway wall, keeping the blade close to me.

Hesitantly I allow my face to peer around the doorframe that enters into the living area. It appears empty but I know better- I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm afraid of not being alone in the dark.

My blinds are drawn so there is not light from the street peeking through, making it even more difficult to navigate my way around.

The smell of perfume gets even more nauseating and I believe I can taste it in the back of my throat...

That can't be me... that can't be my perfume.

As I inch further into the room I can feel my heart beating erratically, and that's when I spot the figure in the armchair. In the corner.

What the fuck...

I point the blade towards the piece of furniture. My head is held high with confidence and I steady my footing, "Who the fuck are you?" I spit, my voice full of venom. It's the woman from the bar... I know it is.

What is it with people thinking they can just walk into my fucking house whenever they goddamn please.

"Where is he?" The shadow asks, her voice is raspy, a lot deeper than the usual female. She sounds like a smoker.

"I'm not gonna ask again. Who the fuck are you?" I repeat. Whoever this madwoman is looking for, he isn't fucking here.

"Tell me what I need to know or so help me-" I cut her off.

"You listen to me, cunt." I storm towards her and wave the knife in front of her face, "I'm giving you three seconds to either tell me who the fuck you are, or I'm going to slit your fucking throat. Understand?" With my free hand I grab a firm hold of her matted hair and force her head back against the arm chair.

It takes her a moment, as she realises I am not blushing, for her to fully submit and start talking.

"Okay... okay just put the knife down. Please, Ivory..." she pleads and I grip onto her tighter.

"How do you know that? How do you know my fucking name?!" I whisper shout and she brings her shaking fingers up to claw at my arm.

"I'm just looking for him..." she repeats the same gibberish from earlier and I find myself getting angrier by the second. The blade of my knife is inches from her skin and I find myself contemplating some dark things...

"Who?" I ask, firmly. She has this opportunity to clear things up or I am going to lose my shit..

"Hardin."