Unholy Obsession

Chapter 15; Defiling a grave

Chapter 15

Hannah's POV

Closure. That was what I came here for. Sun hit the edge of a steel tombstone and glared at my eyes, almost blinding me. Just a month ago, Lance was living, walking among us. But now, he laid here with nothing but his head. I searched my mind, looking for the good, the happy and the beautiful. But all my head could come up with was that stupid BDSM shit I saw in his house. It made it difficult to forgive him. 

Wind rolled dried leaves along the ground and there was a crunch, a reminder that Vincent was behind me. I looked over my shoulders, my heart pulsing. He was dressed in an all black attire—black shirt, trouser and Chesterfield coat. A subtle smile of encouragement stretched on his face. 

He had been supportive ever since Lance's death. I could talk to him about my consistent anger that plagued me about his death and he always reminded me that I was normal to feel that way. He was my brief comfort for the past few weeks. But I was scared. I didn't want this to go any further than it already was. Besides, we hadn't have any sort of sex or kiss since the death. I appreciated that as well. I needed the time to think and process the fucked up situation.

"Hey Lance," I said, crossing my arms and rubbing my elbows. "I know you're probably going to be mad that I didn't attend your funeral."

Knowing him, he probably wouldn't even give a shit. The piece of shit wasted my life. In my country, ladies were always advised to date to marry. If our mothers were to ever find out we didn't wish to marry the man we were dating, they would throw a fit. I was already twenty-seven years old. Three more years and those toxic alpha male podcasts would start calling me 'expired goods'. They would say shit like she hit her wall or she's gonna die alone with her cats and knitwear. Well they were all going to die with receding hairlines and fucked up erections.

It wasn't like getting married was the only thing I sought after. But it felt nice knowing there would be someone who would want to be with you for better and for worse. In this fucked up world, someone offering forever was like they were offering you an irreplaceable jewel. I thought I was that irreplaceable jewel to Lance. Apparently, he preferred rim jobs and ass spanks. 

"Five years, Lance. Five years down the drain and you didn't have to pay for your atrocities. You sure know how to avoid consequences. The signs were always there." I clenched my jaw. "The lying about the girls you were fucking, the late night practices even though it was off season, the constant anonymous pant deliveries in the mail. Fuck, I was so blind. All because I thought you had loved me the way I loved you. Well, shit. I'm only here to pay my respects because unlike you, I still have a heart."

I tossed the flower, the petals making a soft rustle as they hit the tombstone. Lance Junior (1990 to 2024.) Beloved son and brother. I clenched my jaw. Beloved? There was nothing beloved about him. My fists balled and a soft touch grazed my fingers. Electricity coursed through my body and I stilled, his dark gaze cutting through my mind and pacifying me for the duration of his stare. 

"You did good, Hannah," he said, palming my cheek. I snuggled in his hold, closing my eyes. Something about him screamed danger but he always managed to make me feel safe. In his chaos, I found serenity. "Lance is gone and you have been strong all this while. So strong in ways I could never have fathomed."

"It's all because of you."

"I'm only glad I could be of help." He leaned his face closer and I gulped. His plump lips were so full of blood and all parts of me craved to feel them. But it was wrong. Lance laid probably six feet below us.

Perhaps reading my thoughts, he smiled and kissed me. Oh Lord, he kissed me and I marvelled at his touch, my body pushing to his, roping my arms around his neck and standing at the ball of my feet.