Standing near an ancient tree, I watch from my spot as the rustling increases. The man’s footsteps intimidate the ground, but I inhale with barely veiled anticipation.
My eagerness is well worth the wait when the massive hulk is revealed. More beast than man, he salivates at the sight of me. We both enjoy the promise of stealing life. I smile at the thought of hurting him. His bones will break under my control. I’ll open his flesh and make him howl in pain. I want to see the life leave his wild eyes.
He carries blades in both hands. They’re extensions of him now. I dodge the first strike while the second tears into my shoulder. The pain invigorates me. I smile at the sight of my blood dripping from his blade.
My foot meets his knee, and the big man crumbles. No screams of pain leave his meaty mouth. He only grunts and returns to his feet. I move around him, dodging a few of his strikes and blocking others. My heart beats faster. Adrenaline flows. I inhale the sweet scent of death around me. The Lost Highway is alive, and I’m part of it. We breathe in sync.
I punch the big man in the jaw before striking him in the throat and then his nose. My fists pound his face even as he digs a blade into my side. The pain energizes me, giving my punches more power. After my fists’ unrelenting attack, his face transforms into a battered mess.
His right arm breaks under my violence. Then his left shatters at the elbow. The blades are no longer extensions of him. They fall to the ground, soon followed by his body.
Falling upon him, I lead with my knee and feel his ribs crack under the impact. He finally cries out. Now afraid and in pain, he rekindles enough of his humanity to beg me for mercy.
I laugh at his words and look upward at where the trees block the sky. This place has no pity for the weak. The Lost Highway only wants death, and I’m its best dealer.
Chapter Seven
Odessa
Those victims locked in this basement long ago speak to me of their suffering. They tell me of a man capable of twisting the human body into atrocities. They were trapped in the Lost Highway until the owner of this cabin freed them from their pain. Death was their salvation, and they promise it’ll be mine too.
I can’t breathe. Even after I calm myself, I can’t deny how shallow the air feels. I’m suffocating just as Quill warned. My chest tingles first and then my lungs beg for more air. Closing my eyes, I attempt to find a state of calm to allow me to breathe more slowly. I don’t think I can hold on long enough for Quill to finish with his hunt.
I know he’ll return. Quill’s face is beautiful, but his soul is corrupted. He is not a man like John. He’s an eternal predator capable of destroying others. I saw the way he fought Dag. Never was he afraid for himself. He only feared I’d escape. Now he’s in the woods against other monsters. His instincts won’t waver against them, yet I doubt I’ll survive long enough to see him open the door.
In the darkness, time falters, and my mind questions. Am I suffocating in a madman’s cabin in the Lost Highway’s woods? Or am I back at my house with John’s hands wrapped around my throat? Have I hallucinated Kim, the killers, and Quill? Am I dying at the hands of my master and a man I couldn’t love?
The voices tell me death will be a beautiful end to a dreadful life. No one will miss me. I’ve never accomplished anything except destruction. I’ve corrupted all I touched. Death will release me from the guilt of letting my sister die. Death will allow me the bliss of unbreakable lies.
I think of John squeezing my throat. His enraged face revealed this wasn’t part of our sex games. I’d broken his black heart, and he yearned to break me.
“I’m doing you a favor,” he said as I struggled to breathe.
Death stared right back at me, and I flinched. I refused to embrace it.
My fingers found the knitting needle I’d left out on the bed earlier in the day. I planned to knit a baby blanket for my pregnant coworker. This gesture meant nothing to anyone except the idiot in the mirror.
Once the needle opened up John’s throat and he fell to his side, I should have run and called the police. I knew I could walk away from his bleeding body.
The needle felt alive in my hand, controlling me. I stabbed him again and again, long past his last breath. I refused to stop until my bloody hands could no longer hold the needle. Once it stuck in his eye and I couldn’t yank it free, I finally relented.
John said he loved me, yet he wanted to end my life. I never loved him, yet I wanted to end his life. Who was the monster between us?
The voices promise John won’t meet me in death. I will be free from regret. My past won’t matter. They found peace, and I would too.
I think I’m crying. I feel the heat on my face, but my mind spins, and I’m unable to tell what’s real. Am I trapped in this closet or back with John? Should I let go or live? I don’t know the answers.
The darkness takes me before Quill can answer my questions, but the voices aren’t pleased.
Chapter Eight
Quill