Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

its jaws, grazing his skin. As his hands were bound, he pulled his knees up wiggling and crashing against the animal. Isaac saw Stripe over its curled shoulder and she hit the snarling animal with a large branch.

The wolf staggered from him, dazed and angry giving Isaac enough time to loop his hands under his knees and over his feet. The wolf lunged at Stripe, baring spit from its dripping fangs. Isaac snatched it from the air in mid leap, he wrapped his arms around its neck and tensed his muscles and began to squeeze. Isaac saw Stripe watch in horror as the wolf pushed out a cry of pain and fear. It didn’t want to die, it just needed to survive. Isaac didn’t want to do it but he had no choice. I’m sorry. Isaac shunted the wolf’s neck and he heard the bone snap. The body dropped into his arms, the fur tickled his palm and he threw the lifeless corpse to the ground.

Stripe got to her feet, her hands were shaking. “You killed it.”

“Because if I hadn't, it would’ve hurt you.”

Stripe’s stomach reacted, spewing vomit onto the grass, she was still gripping the photo frame. Isaac tensed the muscles in his chest and pulled the handcuffs apart. The metal shattered as they disintegrated. Stripe began to cry again, the veins in her neck tensing with her stomach convulsions. Isaac knelt beside her; pulling her blonde hair as she retched. Look what you’ve done to her. He watched how the truth had poisoned her body. He whispered her name with pain shining in her eyes. I’m sorry, Stripe. He hooked his arms underneath her legs lifting her up. Stripe's head rocked against his chest and he threw her into his arms. The stench of her wasn't pleasant but he’d been around worse.

He took her back to his car lying her in the back seat and fetched a bottle of water from the drawer. “Drink Stripe,” he said.

After he watched several gulps go down, Isaac hitched into the driving seat and drove back to the house. Isaac watched her in the rear-view mirror crying in the backseat. I shouldn’t have shown her. She was gripping onto the photograph like it was a life ring. But, she had to know.

It had begun to rain again and even the wipers weren't doing a good job to drown out her cries. By the time, they'd got back to his house. Stripe had fallen asleep with the photograph bound across her chest like a tomb statue.

“Stripe,” he whispered gently. “Stripe, wake up.”

Isaac carried her inside. He peeled off the vomit-soaked jumper. He helped her to the stool in the kitchen and switched on his coffee machine. The awkward silence was agonising. He had to do something.

“I’m sorry you had to see those things,” he whispered. “If you want to leave, I understand.” He indicated to the front door. “You're free to go.”

“What if I called the cops?”

“I’d rather you didn’t but you can if you want. I can't stop you.”

“I could ruin your life.”

“I know but I’d rather you not be here, especially if you're frightened or repulsed by me. I’ve caused you enough distress as it is…”

“I'm not scared or disgusted.”

“You’re not?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. Everything’s so different now.”

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked. “You probably should. You’re body’s crashing. I can tell.”

“Sure,” Stripe uttered nervously.

Isaac moved around to the cupboards and sizzled a couple of eggs and strips of bacon in a pan. They didn’t speak to each other as they ate. Isaac sipped his coffee between gulps. Stripe stared out at the windows but her mind was elsewhere.

“What do you reckon you’d be doing if you hadn’t escaped?” she finally asked.

He’d had several nightmares about his potential alternative future, encouraging his body to sweat like he was vacating in the Bahamas. “I’ve thought about it. Killing probably.”

Her stare hardened. “You’ve done plenty of that already.”

Her words sliced through him. Peter was the last one.

“I’d use you for assassination…” Stripe said. “Get you to bump people off quietly, make it look like an accident.”

Isaac saw an electricity in her quizzical stare, it unnerved him, she wasn’t scared, or angry. She was curious. “Probably. I was a mindless drone to annihilate a target at the first command.”

“How did you cope?”

“I had no choice. It was either that or give up. It took a long time for me to be comfortable with people touching me again. I haven’t cried since I escaped, there’s just something in my body that won’t let me…”

Stripe nodded as she listened. “Because crying was a weakness?”

Isaac smiled sadly; he didn’t need to say anything.

Stripe placed the photo frame up against the wall, Isaac felt cornered as she got up from the stool, walking towards him. Her eyes weren't singing with tears or pain, but something urgent and primal.

“Stripe,” he whispered.

Her lips found his, suffocating him, their breath mingling. Isaac’s heart raced when his mind was cast back to high school, he’d missed the feel of her in his arms, he could hear Prince’s voice, singing those bittersweet words. He cradled her, supporting the back of her head as they kissed. Her taste hadn’t soured, she’d grown and ripened. She was taking control.

Isaac fell back against the kitchen counter, tasting her, his fingers delving and gripping her hair. He picked her up as she clawed at his back. The desire was building up. He carried her to the bedroom, the one he’d chained her to. They fell onto the bed, lost in each other's touch, their mouths dancing. An instinct began to pull at her top. He yanked it off, throwing it to the floor. This can’t be happening.

Stripe groaned lovingly as Isaac bent down and began to plant ceremonious kisses along her subtle neck and stomach. He revelled every time her body responded, every time she gasped and groaned into his ear. Isaac pulled off her pants. He stared as she