The Kills That Bind Us

When withered hearts like ours meet

There were seagulls squawking in the air when I caught sight of the lovely petite woman I would later know as Dee.

She wore all black. Not noteworthy on most days, but the veil over her face didn't flutter one iota when a gale wind swept off the sea while the preacher pronounced the couple getting married husband and husband.

Uncommon to sport fucking funeral wear to a wedding.

Very intriguing to a downtrodden soul such as myself.

Later I discovered her trolling the newlyweds after working out her name and connection to the festivities. I was a distant relative and only attended because I was in the area. She had no invitation, only wandered up on the beach, already attired like a widow in mourning.

She is stunningly broken and a murderess.

I introduced myself at my cousin's funeral a month later by grabbing her neck and sticking her with my favorite drug cocktail. It stayed in her system long enough for transportation and to situate her in an outdated dining room. Dee hadn't noticed I tracked her for weeks, knowing she murdered Ben.

I wasn't upset. The man was an asshole and a waste of space as far as I'm concerned. She didn't appear to have a vendetta against Ben. This is what I wanted to discuss. Why him? Also, why does she dress so beautifully dark on days filled with sunshine?

Dee opens her brilliant blues, but to my surprise, she remains seated. I hadn't tied her to the wooden armchair at the head of the table. There was no need. I won't harm her.

She has no clue about my intentions, though.

"Who are you?" She gasps, sitting straight and proud.

"No one — like you. Why did you cut the brakes in Ben's car?"

"Should I lie? No? You took me from a funeral, so... are you a relative? Yes... you are."

There is no fear in her eyes when she studies me. She is excellent at reading people, but she only sees what I want her to see. The spitfire doesn't recognize the fiend beside her. I'm well known in underground circles. A boogeyman in plain view. Perhaps she's trying to become a monster worthy of high praise. Time will tell.

I cross my legs, waiting.

There's a flicker of uncertainty before she flares with anger. "You've been following me! I didn't imagine it."

I nod.

She slides to the edge of the cushioned seat. "What do you want? Money?"

I shake my head.

Dee licks her plump pink lips, peering down the front of her black lace and satin dress, which fit her slim figure perfectly. "You asked why I cut his brake line. I'll tell you, but you have to let me go."

I raise my palms to convey compliance.

"He cheated on his new husband. Can you call it cheating when it was obviously an affair? Why did he think it was okay to play with hearts like that?" Her raspy voice rises at the end as if she really wants the answer.

It didn't seem a good enough reason to plot someone's death. Lots of people lied and cheated. Who cared if Ben banged ten different men after marriage? Dee did. Dee took it personally that Ben fucked around on his husband.

"I answered," she cautiously stands, eyeing me with wide blue eyes, wondering if I will stop her. "I'm free to go now, right? What if I return and kill you?"

With my arms raised in a placating gesture, I stand, towering over her slight frame. She's stiff and ready for flight or fight, but I wave towards the kitchen where I propped the back door open. There's a narrow alleyway leading to Pike Street, which is busy at this time of day.

"What do you want?" I enjoy her confusion and panic, repressing a grin. "Are you satisfied after learning your family members are pieces of shit?" She pauses and when I stay unresponsive, her bravery and cunning make a fantastic show. "You're as fucked up as the rest! You kidnapped me! Instead of seeking justice, you ask stupid questions! Now I know where you live. Just wait, asshole. I never forget a face, and one day I'll be coming for you."

My dick twitches at her feeble threats.

The longer she taunts me, the more I itch to bend her over the rotting table and lift her cute Gothic dress to check if her panties are as black as her conscience. It's been a long time since a woman intrigued me. I stopped caring for sex ages ago, but her feminine scent keeps invading my senses, reminding me of the man I once was. How powerful I felt with a woman's throat between my hands as I fucked her within an inch of her life.

She notices the tent in my pants, her cheeks turning a rosy color. Without another word, she bolts through the room, slamming the screen door on the way out.

I linger a few seconds before pulling my cell from my slacks, tapping the only app on the disposable device. Dee might be a skillful huntress, but she does not know between her shoulder blades is a tracker just under the skin.

Such soft, unblemished, porcelain flesh I imagine looks stunning with rivulets of deep crimson dripping from her delicate fingertips after she disembowels one of her victims...

Cracking my neck to disperse thoughts of Dee, seeing she is gaining distance away from me, I lock up and drive from the house I maintained for decades.