Chapter 160

HENRY

I have seen Shane furious before. But I have never seen him look this furious. It felt like his fury was going to burn me alive.

He released me and spun around quickly. In a twinkling of an eye, his hand was already wrapped tightly around Harlan's throat, and he slammed him against the nearest wall. The impact rattled the cheap framed pictures. Plaster dust drifted down.

Shane gritted his teeth, his other fist flying like a missile, landing on the man's face, once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, turning the man’s face into a pulpy mess.

Blood poured like water from a split lip and from a broken nose that now sat at a sickening angle. Teeth clattered to the floor like scattered dice.

I was immobilized and could only do nothing but watch. Harlan collapsed in a heap, whimpering, trying to curl into himself.

Shane reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. The sharp blade glittered under the dim light. I felt sick to my stomach at the sight.

“No…” I breathed.

He crouched over the man and drove the knife into Harlan’s thigh with deliberate force. Not a killing blow. A torturing one. The blade sank deep, twisting as Shane leaned in.

Harlan screamed, a high, broken sound that vibrated through the small house. Blood welled up dark and thick around the steel, soaking his pants in seconds.

Shane dragged the knife down a bit before pulling it free with a wet, sucking sound. Harlan let out a sharp screech of agony, hands scrabbling uselessly at the wound.

“Remember what you told me sophomore year?” Shane asked, voice almost gentle as he traced the bloody tip of the knife along the man’s cheek. “You said, ‘Boys like you don’t belong in decent society. No, in fact, people like you deserve to be wiped from the face of the earth. You’re a monster in the making.’” Then he let out a low, maniacal chuckle, “Well, guess what, Harlan? I'm no longer in the making. I graduated. I'm a god now. An unstoppable god.”

He drove the knife into Harlan's body again, this time into the other thigh. Deeper. Harlan’s scream turned into a wet, gurgling sob. His legs jerked spastically, blood pooling beneath him on the dirty carpet, dark and spreading fast.

“I thought about that a lot,” Shane continued, twisting the blade slowly, eyes dark and glinting as he savored the way Harlan’s body convulsed. “Every time I sat in your class, you sneered at me. Every time you made the others laugh at my expense. You enjoyed it, didn’t you? Breaking kids down. Making them feel small. Huh?”

Harlan whimpered, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood on his face. “P-please… just kill me… I’m sorry… God, please finish it…”

Shane snickered, low and delighted. He pulled the knife free again, only to press the tip against Harlan’s stomach, just below the ribs. “Begging already? Carter lasted waaayyy longer than this. You’re as pathetic as it gets.”

He stabbed once more, shallow this time, dragging the blade sideways to open a long, ugly gash. Intestines threatened to spill, glistening wetly. The metallic stink of blood mixed with the sour reek of piss filled the room as Harlan lost control of his bladder.

The man’s whimpers turned to broken, animal pleas. “Stop… please… mercy… I have nothing… no one…”

Shane glanced up at me then. His eyes were bright, almost feverish with pleasure. Blood speckled his cheek and stained his knuckles. He held the knife out toward me, handle first.

“Go on,” He said softly. “Finish him off. You couldn't do it with Carter. I'm sure you could do it with him. Feel the weight of it, Jones. Have a taste of how powerful and amazing this feels.”

I stared at the bloody knife in horror. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The room spun. Harlan’s ragged breathing and the wet, desperate sound he made filled the space.

I shook my head violently, tears blurring my vision. “No… I can’t… Shane, please…”

His expression didn’t harden. It softened in that terrifying way of his, the one that made my stomach twist with something sick and warm at the same time.

“You said you wanted to earn my love, didn’t you?” He murmured, slowly stood up, stepping closer, still offering the knife. The blade dripped steadily onto the carpet. “Do it for me, Jones. Sink it in. Watch the light leave his eyes. Become someone who understands me. Someone I can keep forever. Do this… and I'll not only keep you forever but also love you till my dying breath.”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Ace’s face rushed back. His slow, agonizing pleas. The sounds he made. His sad, despairing eyes staring into mine, begging me to do something. The way his body had twitched for what felt like ages while Shane watched with that same calm enjoyment.

The horror. The way I’d stood frozen then and watched, just like now. The guilt. The way I still loved, kissed him and let him cuddle me to sleep right after he murdered Ace.

I whimpered, a broken sound tearing from my throat. My vision blurred with hot tears.

I couldn’t.

I swung around and bolted.

My feet pounded across the blood-smeared floor, then out the front door into the humid night. The overgrown lawn caught at my ankles.

I made it halfway across the yard before my stomach rebelled, and I dropped to my knees in the damp grass and threw up violently.

Tears streamed down my face as I heaved again and again, shoulders shaking. Behind me, inside the house, I heard another wet scream cut short. Then silence.

Then I heard Shane’s footsteps approach slowly across the grass, calm and unhurried.

I stayed on my knees, forehead pressed to the cool ground, sobbing quietly. The horror of what I’d just witnessed and what Shane wanted me to ‘become’ wrapped around my chest like iron bands.

He stopped behind me. I could feel him staring down at me.

“You still couldn't do it.” He said. The sheer disappointment and the mixture of frustration were palpable. “Pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” I quavered, glanced up at him, tears still rolling down my cheeks, “You… you… you kil…”

I couldn't complete it. I broke into another round of tears, slumping on the dirty ground.

“You said you want to earn my love, but you disappoint me each time I put you to the test.” He murmured.

“Must it be murder?” I wheezed, my voice wrecked and broken. “Isn't there another way?”

“No, Jones.” He replied, voice calm and gentle, “There is no other way. This is the only way. You claim that you love me, but are still horrified by what I am and the things that I do. That's not right. For me to love you, Jones, you need to understand me first. Take a life. It's not hard. It's the most thrilling thing you can ever imagine.”