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Alderney State Penitentiary,
Dear Amethyst,
I was horrified that your teacher took advantage of you at such a young age. Please accept my apologies for my previous excitement. What you committed was an act of justice, not murder. That bastard deserved to be tortured slowly and was lucky for a quick death.
Your legal team’s suggestion to plead insanity was a brilliant move. I expect that your juvenile records are now either sealed or expunged.
I admire your bravery and resilience, and I am eager to know more. Why would a nice girl like you write to a murderer like me? Does it not terrify you to get involved with another monster?
Thank you for the photo. You are as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside. Please send more.
Xero
P.S. What made you decide to dye one side of your hair blonde? Is the black half your natural shade?
EIGHT
AMETHYST
Hours later, I’ve already forgotten about the text messages, more concerned with wiping out all traces of JakeRake69’s death. I drive across the state to a mom-and-pop hardware store on the outskirts of Carmel, New Jersey, where I make a cash purchase of hydrogen peroxide. It’s the kind of establishment that doesn’t have security cameras to record footage of me buying items to get rid of forensic evidence.
I’m resisting the urge to look up Jake’s socials to see if anyone has reported him missing. By now, a burial would have taken place where I left him at the cemetery, covering all traces of his body. I don’t need to incriminate myself by searching for him online.
After burning the trash bag full of blood-soaked products in a forest, I pay for the car to get cleaned and return home to sterilize the kitchen. When I open the fridge to check on the birthday cake, the hole in its side is missing, along with the streaks of white. I toss it out, dismissing what I saw before as a hallucination.
My doorbell rings as I’m mopping up remnants of the cleaning fluid with hot water infused with mint oil. I check the wall clock and frown because it’s only 7:15 PM. Straightening, I glance out into the backyard, where I swear there’s a figure standing among the trees. It’s too dark to make out the details, butmoonlight reflects on a hood, with a long, flowing cape that makes him look like a modern-day Grim Reaper.
Squinting, I tilt my head, trying to work out if it’s a figment of my imagination.
The doorbell rings again, and a deep voice from the other side of the house says, “Amethyst?”
My attention snaps back to the direction of the sound. “Gavin?”
“It’s me.”
I jog to the front of the house and open the door. At 5’8, Gavin stands three inches taller than me and with a slender build that isn’t much bigger than mine.
Gavin bobs his Funko Pop-shaped head and grins a crooked smile with one side drooping toward his chin like a Salvador Dali melting clock. He hasn’t shaved today, so the uneven patches of ginger on his square jaw clash with his strawberry-blond hair.
When I don’t offer him a warm welcome, he strides past me and heads straight to the kitchen. “Show me what’s wrong.”
I glare at his narrow back, my lips pursing. He’s only been here twice, and he’s already making himself at home. I follow him, arriving as he settles at the small dining table.
“Just another community guidelines violation,” I mutter.
“Take a seat. Let me see.” He wraps an arm around the back of the chair beside him, but I take the seat opposite and pick up my phone.
As I log into the account, he rises off his seat and rounds the table to hover behind me like a wraith.
Sweat breaks out across my skin. My stomach twists and I shift uncomfortably on my chair. Gavin is so desperate for a sub that he’s tattooed BDSM on each finger of his right hand. He thinks he’s a Dom, but his personality is more like a dachshund. Too eager, too excitable, and too exhausting.
Leaning to the left, I glare up into his chocolate brown eyes. “Do you have to stand so close?”
He steps back, his palms raised. “Sorry.” He shuffles on his feet. “Are you still devoting yourself to that guy?”
“Yes,” I say, my words clipped.
“But he was executed…” Gavin’s voice trails off as I shoot him avenomous glare. Dipping his head, he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m just saying.”
