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This story will focus on a female serial killer named Raven and her odd relationship with Henry Lee Lucas. It is rated M for mature and XXX for tons of smut. This fanfic will have cussing, violence, blood, murder, and eventual BDS...
I cleaned my messy frontside and slipped back into my robe, and Henry changed his undershirt. We met at the kitchen table and sat across from each other to discuss his trip to Maryland. He was all business. His brows were knitted and his forehead wrinkled with concentration, and he had a pad of paper and pen in front of him to jot down notes. Our kitchen counter fuck session from just a few minutes ago was forgotten.
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Lighting a cigarette, he pushed the pack and lighter towards me. I followed suit, taking a much-needed drag. Smoke filled my lungs and nicotine spread throughout my body, lessening the edginess I was dealing with. Talking about Mama and Philip always made me feel like I was walking on eggshells.
"So..." Henry rested his left elbow on the table. Bending it, he crossed his arm in front of his body. "What I need ta know is what their routines were like."
His pretty blue eyes probed mine curiously. Leaning forward with interest, he jammed his cigarette between his lips. Taking a deep puff, he poised the pen over the paper. Smoke leaked from his nose, much like an inactive volcano. His eyes dropped to my fidgeting hand as I traced unknown images on the table.
Henry's cigarette wiggled between his lips as he added, "I know this is hard fer ya. Take yer time. There's no rush."
I barely nodded. Talking and thinking about Philip and my mama was always difficult, but this was important and needed to be discussed. Blowing smoke into the air above us, I cleared my throat.
"Well, I can tell ya their old routines, but that was 23 years ago. I dunno what they're like now." I shrugged. "I dunno if they still even live there."
"Most people get stuck in their ways. Most likely, they still got the same jobs or similar ones and have the same ol' borin' routines. The older people get, the less likely they are ta change," Henry stated. "They might o' slowed down a bit, but they're prolly still doin' the same shit they were back when ya lived at home. How old are they? Think they could be retired?"
"Hmm, Mama is..." Drumming my fingertips on the table, I calculated in my head. "...60 and Philip is 65. He could be retired. Hell, I don't even know if they're still alive. I dunno what their health is like, I dunno if they ever even looked fer me." I scoffed. "I doubt it. I mean, why would they? I was just a problem child ta Mama, and why would Philip look fer me when I wasn't even 'is real kid? I was almost grown in the eyes o' the law anyway. Wasn't prolly much they could do."
"I'm gonna check on all that. Don't wanna waste my time if they're already dead," Henry said. "Ya never know, though. Maybe yer mama got a wild hair up her ass and tried ta track ya down. And Philip, if he was as obsessed with ya as I think he was, he would've looked; maybe without yer mama's knowledge. He was a sick fuck. Maybe one of 'em hired a PI. Most likely, it was him."
Rolling my eyes, I grunted. "Well, if they did look, I fell off the grid fer a long time. They wouldn't o' found nothin'."
"Yeah, ya said ya drifted. Kinda hard ta find a drifter. I would know." Henry winked and flicked his cigarette ash into the ashtray. "Ain't no paper trail ta follow. They would o' been lookin' fer a ghost."
