Page 18 of Burn For Me

Keep your shit together, Derek.

“I told you I was set up. I was ordered to go knock that guy around for being a fucking asshole in his therapy session, and then my boss gets pissed when I do my job too well.”

“Whatever you say,” she said as a cupboard door closed, and I smirked at her sass. It was too bad she was going to die as well.

“And what the fuck are you complaining for, woman? If I hadn’t been fired, I would’ve died in that fire. So fucking appropriate that West died in a fire if you ask me.”

I shivered with excitement as I pictured the look on his face when he realized that I wasn’t dead. A joyful giddiness filled my body, and I almost chuckled out loud.

Now I get to make sure you suffer longer.

My dick came to life with the images of his burning body. It was so wrong, yet I rubbed my cock through my jeans. To get my urges under control, I ended up giving my cock a hard squeeze that almost made me gasp at the bite of pain.

“I guess that’s Murphy’s Law for you,” the woman said, her voice flat as she agreed with Jim.

“When Dr. Wallace called to tell me about West being dead, I didn’t believe him until he said they found his body locked in his room. Honestly, he deserved to die like that if you ask me.”

That was one thing I’d been banking on. The fire needed to burn hot enough to make it difficult to pull any DNA. They may not have even tried with the door locked, but hearing that Dr. Wallace was convinced made me smile. The flames had shimmered a vibrant blue and white before I forced myself to leave.

The sound of the fridge closing pulled my attention. “As you keep mentioning.”

“Why are you acting like such a bitch?”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” There was the distinct sound of feet moving around, and I pictured the dance of where they were in the home based on the heavy and light footfalls.

“Long day at work, I guess. I’m going to go shower and then head to bed. I’m beat.”

“What about this window?”

Um, how about you fucking close it? I thought at the same time the unknown woman yelled, “fucking close it yourself.”

I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t trying to keep as quiet as a church mouse. It really was kind of a shame that I was going to kill this woman. She seemed as genuinely annoyed and pissed off with fuck-face-Jim as I was.

Reaching inside my jacket pocket I pulled out a long screw and continued to work on my little craft project. Jim mumbled a bunch of swear words as the window closed with a thud. The television flicked on, and what sounded like a sports channel blared.

I waited, and then waited some more and stayed inside the closet until I heard soft snoring. Daring to move from my hiding spot, I cracked open the door. The darkened room flickered with the flash of light from the sport’s commentary that was now playing on a loop.

The door was silent as it slowly opened enough for me to stand in the shadows of the hallway and stare at the man in the living room. So many parallels to my past life, and like my dad, this man was going to meet his end and never see it coming. Like a deadly shadow, I slipped along the hallway into the kitchen to listen for any sound of the woman. All was quiet from the other end of the house, and no lights were on, so chances were she was asleep as well.

I felt like a tight rope walker as I made sure to land one well-placed step after the next, and I snuck up behind Jim as he slept in the chair. He really couldn’t have fallen asleep in any better position. His cue bald head tilted down and to the right. If he’d been drunk, that was a good position for him to suffocate and die. His arms were relaxed at his sides, and his breathing was even. Every time his breath pushed out with a little woosh sound, the harder my cock became.

I stretched out my special little tool and smiled wickedly. I hadn’t lost my touch. It was going to work perfectly.

“Psst Jim, it’s time to die,” I whispered in his ear.

The man jerked awake and stared straight ahead. Confusion turned into shock and then roared into fear as our eyes locked. Before he could think to move, I brought the line over his head and around his neck, pulling back hard and fast. A gurgling gasp was the only sound he made before the line pressed deep into the tissue of his neck. Pretty sure this wasn’t what the manufacture meant when the packaging said it could hold any big fish.

The fight was instantaneous, a mass of flailing arms and socked feet as Jim tried to pull at the thin-lined garrote contraption pressing him into the chair and cutting off his air supply. Using all my strength, I pulled the two ends together and gave myself a pat on the back for the ingenious work of creating a deadly version of a toggle clasp.

I walked back to the closet, grabbed the crowbar from its hiding spot, and then stood again in front of Jim. The line was so tight I could see it creating a deep indent in Jim’s throat. He could barely breathe. The sound of the air leaving his lungs was nothing more than a wheeze. If Jim struggled at all, it would continue to cut his throat open. It was really quite ingenious and my pride notched up a rung. Jim was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. His face was red and his eyes wild, but his shit brown eyes still held the same hatred they always had, which was good. That look only encouraged the monster.

“I need a minute to get a few more things, Jim. You picked up the girlfriend and groceries quicker than I thought you would be back. So rude not to give me enough time to prepare fully for your arrival,” I whispered.

The man grumbled something through the line that sounded like a fuck you, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

“So, just to make sure you don’t move while I finish setting things up, I’m going to play a little Misery on your ass. That was a really good Stephen King book, by the way. Thanks for bringing it to me from the library.”