Page 82 of Kill Me

We grabbed Dane later that night and took him back to the garage. Safe to say I had lots of fun experimenting with the tools and may have even nabbed a few to add to my collection. You might get the details at a later date, but for now, I have bits to stuff. I pick up my phone and call my best friend. “Hey, cunty bollocks. There’s a gift or two on the way for ya.”

She squeals with excitement. “Ohmygod, yay! I was running out of ashes to mix with my acrylic.”

“You sick fuck.” I laugh.

“I love you, too, bitch tits. See ya.”

I hang up the phone and head back to the house to get some sleep. I’ll fill everyone in in the morning. Murder is a tiring business, you know.

Chapter Forty-Five

Present Day

The same night…

I think we can all agree that I’m terrible at enforcing boundaries where my little magpie is concerned. But tonight, I feel like she needs to look back on it with fondness. Not grief. So that’s my mission this evening. We have the house to ourselves, so I’ve made some dinner, and we’re spending the evening on the sofa watching a series. It’s her pick.

She’s been struggling with stomach cramps all day. She thinks I don’t know, but you don’t have a cousin as close as I am to Lools and not learn about periods. I’ve handpicked sweet and salty snacks to help with the cravings, and I’m armed with a hot water bottle and painkillers.

I hand them over, and she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. I don’t want to make a big thing of it, so I give her an out and change the subject.

“So, what are we watching?”

“Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Why?”

“Because if you get to see me cry, I think it’s only fair I get to see the same, and it’s an emotional show. If you don’t cry at Grey’s Anatomy, there is something legitimately wrong with you.”

“You’re a fucking sadist, you know that?”

“I think you’re confusing me with my brother.” I stand there in silence. Lost for words. And then collapse onto the sofa in a fit of laughter, with her joining in. I love it when she laughs.

She looks over at me, and her face turns serious. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“You don’t remind me of him, you know.” She fingers the blanket over my lap with one hand and cuddles Ted with the other. “Earlier, when I asked you to switch out with Lulu, it wasn’t because you reminded me of him. It was because I didn’t want to associate something that means so much to me with something that I hate.”

I slide closer to her. “I know, Little Magpie. I know.”

About four episodes in, she’s caught me crying at least three times. How does anyone watch this show and not? She’s gradually moving in closer to me, and my arm is around her. I’m a guy who is attracted to fuller-figured girls, so when I’m running my hand down her sides and I can feel her rolls, my dick is twitching underneath the blanket. It’s fucking torturous. She turns around so her back is to me, and my arm naturally falls against her stomach. She freezes. And it’s not for the first time. “Please don’t touch my belly,” she mumbles.

“Why? Little Magpie, your belly is beautiful.”

“I don’t like the rolls.”

“Little Magpie, I think it’s time we do some exposure therapy.”

“What? Where?”

“Right fucking here. Do you trust me?”

She nods.

“What’s the safe word?”

“Magpie. But my rolls…”

“Baby, your rolls to me are delicious. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll be all up in them like butter waiting to be spread.”