I look at her one more time, trying to erase her gorgeous curvy body from my memory so I can be at least somewhat unbiased. Her shoulders are squared back, her long fingers balled into tight little fists by her side. Her head is held high, probably for the first time since I met her. Her expression doesn’t hold an ounce of humor or fear, which is so often there. There is no weakness, no remorse, no hesitation. Just pure determination of a person who knows what she wants and what sheneeds.
Her mask has dropped off, and I can see the yearning for freedom from her demons. I recognize it… because I see it in the mirror every single morning.
I sigh loudly, groaning as I wipe my face with my hands. I sigh again, and she’s still watching me. I don’t think she’s even blinked once. I look around, find nothing besides the rug, and groan again.
“Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You don’t even have a shovel. Wait here.” I turn around and walk to the shed in my backyard, asking myself what the fuck I am doing.
“Where are you going?” she calls.
“To get a fucking shovel,” I bark without turning.
“You’re going to get a shovel?” A loud sniffle. “For me?” Another sniffle.
“Not for you. For him.” I turn back toward her, pointing at the body as I question my sanity once again.
I watch her swallow as she looks at the ground. A couple of seconds pass before she looks back up. Clearing her throat, she asks, “Why would you do that for me?”
I want to joke it off but notice her eyes. There’s a deep sadness in them, and I understand she’s waiting for a genuine answer. Unfortunately, I haven’t quite figured it out yet myself. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “But I sense yourneedto get rid of your demons. I know the feeling more than I’d ever like to admit,” I tell her, trying to understand why I decided to go off the rails myself. I turn to keep walking when a warm hand wraps around my forearm.
“Wait.”
All I want to do is keep walking. I don’tdofeelings and emotions and sharing and all the shit that comes in between.
“Wait, please.”
Thepleasedoes it. I stop but don’t turn toward her.
“It’s… I don’t even know what to say other than thank you. But there isn’t an actual body in that rug. You know, no human body.”
I whip back. “What?” I ask, and she drops her hand. “What the fuck is in the rug?”
“A dummy.” Her voice turns shy as she plays with her fingers in front of her, looking down. Too fuckin’ late for that, princess.
“A dummy,” I say back. A fuckin’ dummy. She made me spill my guts for a fuckin’ dummy? “What the fuck is dummy doing in the rug?”
“I was doing research.” She chews on the inside of her lower lip.
“What sort of research requires you to carry a fuckin’ dummy in a fuckin’ rug through your fuckin’ backyard?” By the end, I’m nearly yelling. A dummy. And I opened my soul to her.
“For the book.” She hides behind the few strands of hair untucked from her mane, looking as if she wants to disappear.
I do too.
“A book?” I feel like someone just whacked me on the back of my head with the shovel I was going for.
“Yeah, a book.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with her hand. “I wanted to try my hand at a new genre, so I started a book where a wife kills her husband and hides his body in their backyard. I needed to know if a woman can carry a dead body rolled in a rug all the way to the backyard.” She points at the rug shyly. “You know, considering his size and all that.”
“Does she?” I can’t help but ask.
“I mean, it seems like it, if she wants to bad enough.” She shrugs, her shoulders falling down like a puppet.
“Were you planning on digging a grave too?” I ask sarcastically.
“I hadn’t gotten that far before you came here,” she replies cheekily, thinking I’m joking.
“Well, excuse the fuck out of me,” I tell her before whistling to Ghost, who sits between us with a curious look on his face, his tongue hanging to the side. I start walking back to my house.
“Mark,” she calls, but I don’t turn around. “Mark, wait. Please.” It won’t work anymore, princess. “I really appreciate that you offered.”
