JOSH
“You think you can just start fucking someone and
leave,” I bellow in her face. “Like you'd think I'd just let you leave, Meg?”
She laughs at me. Fucking laughs! She thinks the whole
situation is hilarious, but I knew just when she started fucking him. A part of
me thought she'd stay, but that, apparently, wasn't going to be the case. I
didn't care if she fucked someone else. Hell, I didn't even care if she fucked
me. I don't care for all that stuff. If I get tense, I know how to take
care of it myself. That's how I was brought up—though I left Jeb, Jack, and
Mason long ago, they taught me well how to take care of my own needs. Even if
their ways were extremely unorthodox.
They were quick to replace me after I left. I'm pretty
sure the kid who took my place is called Tommy. Though, it's probably not his
real name, just what the others called him after they took him away from his
real family. Sometimes, Mason calls asking me to come back, but I left that
life for a reason. I needed to at least appear like a normal person.
That's why I chose Meg. She's the perfect housewife
material. Normal in all aspects. A little overweight, brunette, a nice smile,
and when we first got together, others looked at me as if I was normal, too,
and not like the creepy, single, town butcher they had before I'd hooked up
with her. I was approachable on the streets these days. People said hello in
greeting while passing me. Now she's going to fuck things up.
“Meg, fuck who you want. Fuck 'em when you want. I don't give a shit. Just stay. I need you here,” I
say, not liking the way my voice cracks more than I'd wanted it to. I'm pushing
too hard for emotions I don't have. Emotions she knows I don't have, so she
knows this is all an act.
“Don't give me that. You need me because I make you seem
like an actual person to other people. What the fuck do I get out of it? A shag
once or twice a year. Certainly, no emotional connection. Have you ever thought
I might want kids? Would you even consider letting me have them?” she screams
at me.
Kids? What the fuck? I'd just screw them up.
Kids shouldn't be anywhere in my proximity. I open my mouth,
but she's already talking again.
“No. You wouldn't, and if you say otherwise now, it's
just to keep me here.” She stops and crosses her arms over her chest. “I'm
going, Josh. There's nothing you can say or do to make me stay.” She turns away
from me.
I grab the lamp from the table on my left. The cord
rips free from the plug. It's noisy, but she keeps walking. I rush after her
and smash her over the head. She crumples in a heap on the floor.
I straighten out her body, rolling her to her back. I
see her chest rise and fall. I think fast, pulling the wire from the lamp, and
I turn her on her side. I bring her feet up and her hands down, tying them with
the wire almost as if she were a calf at a rodeo and I a cowboy.
I go to the garage in search of lengths of chain and
padlocks that I know are in there. I find them and take them to the spare room.
When I return to Meg, she's still unconscious on the
floor. I think about untying her and hefting her over my shoulder but decide
against it. Instead, I drag her—holding onto the wire that binds her hands and
feet together—along the carpet to the spare room. I release the wire and turn
her over, seeing the carpet burns on her face and across her stomach where her
shirt rode up.
“That's gonna sting,” I say, satisfied.
I grab a stepladder from the corner, placing it in the
center of the room under a support beam I normally hang my heavy bag from. I
grab three lengths of chain—two longer, one shorter—and a padlock. I wrap one
end of the shorter length around the support beam and padlock it to itself,
letting the rest dangle down toward the floor. The two longer ones I run over
the beam, half of each chain on either side, and step down. I walk toward Meg,
and I wrap the other end of the shorter chain around her neck and padlock it to
itself, giving her a heavy chain necklace. I pull at the wire tying her hands
to her feet and remove it. I grab the two ends of one of the longer chains and
wrap an end around each wrist using two more padlocks. She now has matching
bracelets to go with her necklace. I move to her feet, doing the same to her
ankles that I did her wrists, completing the set with anklets.
Well, she did like to harass me about jewelry. Now she
has some; though, it's probably not exactly what she had in mind.
I go to the kitchen and pour a glass of whiskey. I
swish it around my mouth before letting it burn down my throat. I don't mind
killing. It really isn't my thing, but I don't care either way. I'll let her
wake up. Let her decide her own fate. She can agree to stay with me and live or
choose to die.
I've nearly finished the bottle of whiskey when Meg
starts screaming. I go back to the room where she is. She's jerking the chain
on her right wrist only to have it pull her left arm away. I laugh. It's
actually an extremely funny sight to see. She falls when she kicks a left leg
back and the right is yanked forward.
“Josh, you need to let me go!”
“You agree to stay, and I'll take the chains off,” I
tell her with a shrug.
“Fuck you, asshole! You think I'm going to stay here
after you do this?”
I pull my phone from my back pocket. I search through
my contacts list, finding the name I want, and touch the screen. It rings
through. Just when I think he's not going to answer, he does.
“Damn, Josh, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw
your name. You change your mind?” Mason says.
“Nah, Mas. I do have a favor to ask, or maybe an offer
for fun?”
“Josh, you need to let me go,” Meg yells.
“Hey, is that Meg? The one I've heard about you being
with?” Mason asks.
“Yeah, and if you agree with my offer, well, you can
meet her.”
“No shit! Whatcha need, Josh?”
“Well, you remember that time you took me deer
hunting?” I ask him.
“Yeah?”
“How we finished the day?”
Meg starts screaming for help, but our closest
neighbor's a quarter mile away. Maybe if she was outside, they'd hear her but
not with her inside the house.
“What with cleaning the deer?” he asks.
“Yeah. Can you help me with something like that but
not a deer?”
“Sure thing. Is it Meg?” The excitement in his voice
is unmistakable. “Because I'm sure Jeb wouldn't object to a new girl. You know,
if you'd rather me just pick her up,” he says.
“Nah, Mas. I've got a better idea, and I think it'll really
help out with the business.”
“Hey, Josh, how is the butcher business, anyway?”
“Not bad, but it's not great, either,” I tell him.
“Well, give me a couple hours, and I'll be there. I
know the perfect place. You let me know how that meat sells later,” he says and
hangs up.
I look at Meg. Her face is streaked with tears, and
she's sobbing. She brings her eyes up to meet mine and asks, “Why?”
“What? I gave you a choice. You chose wrong.” I
shrug my shoulders and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.
