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

about to celebrate her eighteenth birthday and graduate high school.”

Her heart ached when she heard the words. “It's Anna, isn't it?”

She heard her mother sobbing. “It's happening again.”

She paced around her bedroom, her finger in her mouth, constantly twitching. A particular plan had been brewing ever since the phone call, but she wasn’t sure whether to go ahead with it. I must be fucking crazy. Another voice slithered, answering for her. He's your only shot. You know that and don’t fucking deny it. She needs him too. You need protection. The monster in your basement is the only one who can.

She checked on her daughter and drifted to the kitchen. Here goes. She slid the knife from the work block and unlocked the basement door. It was more threatening than a hammer.

“You look like you’ve had a nightmare,” her hostage said, staring at her with concern.

“I’m fine.”

“What’s happened? Is it bad?”

“Anna was a kid, just like those girls. She had her whole life ahead of her and... someone or something out there cut her down.”

“It wasn’t me. How could I kill her when I’m locked in here?”

She pursed her lips, biting on the inside of her mouth. Say it. “I know it’s not you.” She noticed his surprise and her cheeks bloomed with warmth. Then she was disgusted with herself. “I admit it now. This is getting too close and I’m frightened. My mom said Anna had a great deal of respect for me, as if I was some sort of mentor to her. She was gonna study journalism at college. Now she’s lying in a cold morgue.”

“I can help.”

“How? Why are you here?”

“To protect you. Look, I know I've done terrible things that I can't take back. But I didn't kill those girls, that couple, Anna or the Roths. I'm telling you the truth.”

“Then who did?”

“Some other monstrosity.”

“Why are they labelling it as the Night Scrawler? That’s your old name.”

“Because the media like to put things in boxes. It's their forte. And the crimes were never solved.”

Yes, they were. They were solved the moment I put a knife in your chest. She glared at him, nuzzling the baby monitor. “I think you should tread carefully. Remember who you're speaking to.”

He smiled. “Oh, I remember. You don't need to worry.”

She watched him slowly. “So you’re here to protect me. Why?”

“Because you left me without a word after we made love, or have you forgotten?” Her heart ached when he spoke. “And I need to look out for you and for her. Is she okay?”

“She's fine, gotta cold, she’s getting over it now.” She held the monitor against her chest, hearing the soft faint sounds of her baby sleeping. “I want you to prove it to me, show me who you really are.”

“I’ve shown you before.”

“That was then.” She waved the monitor. “This is now. There’s more at stake.”

“I will. Are you going to hurt me, Stripe?”

In a crude sense, it was funny. How things change. He’d taken her at a time, tied her up, and shoved information in her face, data she didn’t ask for. It was a story she didn’t want to read; entwined with details she wouldn’t have dreamt of – setting the scale. It changed the tide, challenging her skills. Her imagination could plunge to some pretty dark places. His story on the other hand plummeted deeper, drowning in the areas after the lights disappeared.

She walked behind him, watching his shoulders shake. Did he like being caged against his will? Was he cold, or was he actually scared of her? How did it feel? Did it trigger any memories?

She slid the blade between the knots, yanking it so the rope broke apart with a loud snap. He clicked his knuckles when she began to pry the tight lines from his wrists. After he was free, he rubbed his skin, stroking the tender burns. He stood to his feet, towering over her.

I can’t believe we’re here again. She looked into his eyes, placing the knife on the chair. She edged towards him like a curious cat. “I don’t want us to fight, Isaac.” She stepped on her tip toes. “We need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Your kiss freezes me. I stand, not knowing what to do. I’m surprised by your change of heart; you were threatening me merely moments ago. Your touch is frightening, but it awakens the longing I’d missed since you ran out on me. I close my eyes, returning the kiss. Before I can enjoy it, you prize me off and I want to scream. Where is this going? What are you doing? What’s going on in your head?

You take me by the hand, leading me upstairs. You don't speak. Fear creeps up on me, you’re not normally quiet, you’re full of probing questions. I know, it sounds silly. Me, of all people, a monster, being scared.

We waltz past our daughter's room and enter your bedroom. It looks so much better from the inside. I see the photograph on your desk from before and it brings back those memories of when you left me without a word. I want you to speak but you rush me again and your mouth covers mine, pushing me onto the bed.

This isn’t right. I feel like I’m taking advantage. I want you the right way. You tell me to be quiet and your lips are all over mine, suffocating my words. Your mouth works on my skin, noises roll from my throat. I rip at your arms and legs. I groan, tension falling and disintegrating. Your lips and skin are ravaging me. You whisper in my ear, your breath on my neck makes my back shudder. You tell me to relax and like a command, my heart quietens along with my fear. I peel the clothes from your back until you are entirely disrobed. I get lost in you, pulling you closer. My hands frame around your face as I kiss you. I know from this point, I’m home when