Dual Eclipse

7

That is now past the point of crazy, ridiculous and scary. My hand shook as I stabbed the soil with the shovel and whimpered.

Eight hands, hearts, notes and lives in almost five months buried. I knew I should warn the police, but my mind screamed at me for even thinking.

My throat clogged with the feeling of wanting to cry. I was in this country to ease my mind, forget and heal, but as the days went by, it felt almost absurd that my demons ridiculed me.

They laugh at night, preventing me from sleeping and forcing me to swallow a pill or two to get some rest. Christ help me.

The shovel hit another box I buried eight days ago, and I shifted more to the right. You’d think I’d bury them all over this yard, but that damn dog still managed to crawl under the fence and wander about, forcing me to sit under the sun and plant flowers over my sin.

It’s not only Rex, but Lucians are nosey people—my neighbour said it herself. That beast started barking as I wiped my brow and lowered the damn box to the ground.

Geraldo Gusto—the eighth man to use me. This time, there was a photo. All the men who died were men who used me inside that bordello. I should feel something other than the butterflies swimming in my stomach and the fluttering of my heart at the thought of someone watching me and giving me this.

That was mine to hold, and as if all this was wrong, which it is, don’t get me wrong, that dog starts to howl. My heart lurched in my throat, and I slapped my mouth to hide my squeal.

“Rex.” Mrs Ama scolded her mongrel and spoke in another language. I’m sure it translated to her getting that dog to keep quiet. She called out, and I ditched the shovel and used my hands when a flashlight came on.

The soil digs beneath my nails, and I pat the soil as Mr Jn. Baptiste came closer to the fence to investigate what that dog was about. I grabbed the shovel and ran to the front door. I tripped over my feet and fell on the concrete ground. The shovel hits the ground, and I catch my fall, falling directly on the edge of it.

The sobs came out. I didn’t protect my knees. They burned and arched from this nasty fall. My palm felt like someone had taken a lit candle to it and slowly melted my flesh away. I should leave the fucking tool on the ground, but I take it with me inside the house and ignore it on the welcome mat.

I blinked to stop the tears, but they kept falling like the water from the open, angry sky. I was fucking furious.

I stormed into the bathroom and turned the lights on before fisting the hem of the t-shirt around my midriff and stretching it into my mouth.

I screamed.

Fuck whoever this was.

Fuck him to hell.

He was out here fucking killing men and leaving the pieces for me to pick up. I’d fucking go to the police. I open the tap and run the cold water under my bloody palm, blinking the tears from my eyes.