Genevieve
DEVILS WALK AMONG THE ANGELS.
There's nothing I desire less than being trapped in a house at close quarters with Ford after his diabolical act. Yet I don't like to speculate the repercussions if I were to endeavour to escape. Frankly, I have more faith in Ford to make good on the promise to keep me inside the house, and I don't want to test the outcomes of what if.
Ford glances away from me, stepping back. "I need to get something from my car. Don't you fucking dare go anywhere."
While I partially anticipate a raging outburst from Ford after dubbing him a monster, what I don't at all expect is for him to be so drawn off, even if he's still threatening me and some of the typical Ford is seeping into his current behaviour. And without another word from him, he strides to the front door and bursts through it, closing it somewhat softly behind him.
Glancing around the lounge, I wince when I realize just how uncomfortable I feel. There's not one part of me that desires sitting so casually on the sofa or even sleeping in the goddamn house. Knowing there's a dead body upstairs just idly laying in the bathtub is disconcerting. When will the stench of death begin to saturate the air, trapping us?
While I continue to pointlessly loiter awkwardly in the lounge, Ford emerges back into the house with his hood up. He has a gym bag slung over his shoulder, carrying another bag in one hand and without even glancing at me, he locks the door, pockets the key, and traipses upstairs. Befuddled, I merely listen to his footsteps ascend the stairs before crossing the upstairs landing, and I know he's in the bathroom.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I'm curious as to what Ford is doing. That's inconceivably undeniable, but the prospect of being so near to a dead body is disturbing. What the fuck is Ford going to do with it? Doesn't it need to be disposed of appropriately?
Despite the internal battle that's transpiring inside my head, I find my legs transporting me through the house until I'm about halfway on the upstairs landing and I abruptly halt. Ford's wiped down most of the blood staining the tiles, but now he's donning gloves again and is filling the bathtub up with water. With the steam emanating from it, I sickeningly know that this is his method to get rid of the body.
"What are you doing?" I murmur, my voice unable to be projected due to the trepidation spicing my veins, but I'm captivated by the morbid curiosity that plagues my body, eager to learn more.
Ford glances fleetingly over his shoulder at me. "If you're squeamish, you may want to stay there," he replies impassively, and I have to admire that it's the debut thing he's ever said to me without any trace of fury behind it tonight. He turns off the faucet and glances down into the bathtub. "I'm disposing of the body. Slowly."
With the bag next to him as he kneels there, that's when I notice the heap of clothing on his other side. I don't recognise it, but if I had to hazard a guess based on the blood splatters, I suspect they're Hudson's clothing he was initially wearing. The bloodstains substantiate my suspicion as I crane my neck, seeing patches of Hudson's pale skin.
As I remain silent, Ford digs into the contents of the bag, retrieving a small bucket of some sort. He holds it up for my benefit and I read the label; 'LYE' is printed on the front. With no idea what it truly is, I know my expression speaks volumes because Ford sighs, rolling his eyes as he pops the lid of the bucket. White powder infiltrates the air.
"This is lye in a concentrated powder form," he clarifies. "This water in the bathtub is boiling to the point that it's already turning pink because it's mixing with Hudson's blood from both the wound and his skin, which is burning. After I measure out three scoops of the lye, I'll add it to the bathtub and then seal it. In no more than twenty-four hours, the body will be gone because it's based on alkaline hydrolysis—long story short, the right mixture of everything will break down every part of this guy's body including his skin and muscle. His teeth and the bullet will prove difficult as the teeth will require hammering down after, and the bullet I can keep if I truly desire." He sighs. "All that will be left by this time tomorrow will be the teeth, bullet and a bathtub of a green-brown liquid. It's the best way to dispose of the body while removing any forensic traces of you along with it."
