Psycho Inside Me (15 page)

~16 ½ years old~

Deegan grabbed my hand and we laughed like we played a game of Red Rover. The first snow fall of the year marked our fourth kill since the anniversary with Mr. Weston’s death. In a matter of hours, our time together would be over. We’d return to reality and I’d feverishly plan our next kill just so I could see him again… See him again and thrill at the rush from setting up the “catch and kill”.

“Hey, my dad’s not home. He has a late shift. I need to grab money for our tattoos. Sal’s sick of doing them free.” Deegan pushed his front door open and waved me inside. “Come on. We can go in just a second.”

I hadn’t been in his house in years. Per his request, we kept our lives completely separate. The Deegan and Cassie that spent intimate time together every couple months never acknowledged each other elsewhere.

In his kitchen, I leaned on the counter and tugged on my long sleeve black thermal shirt. A long tear from the elbow to the wrist exposed the scratches and already-forming-bruises on my forearm.
Deegan pulled a can of pop from the fridge and handed me a bottle of water. I hated pop.

He fingered the torn material. “Don’t you think you cut it close this time?” He kept his tone casual. I’d warned him to stop coddling me or he was out. Not that I’d follow through with it.

Shrugging, I pulled my sleeve over the wounds and wrapped my wrist in my hand. “Yeah. But whatever, you know?” I couldn’t tell him – or anyone… ever – that the man we’d just offed had almost gotten in my pants. As agreed, Deegan and I had opted to stop using knives and instead, we used what was available at the site of the murder. Nothing had been nearby in the park where I’d rendezvoused with the man I’d met online. The dark of night had been the only thing keeping my pants and bra on.

Thankfully Deegan had sprung out and strangled my would-be raper.

My first time came closer and closer to being with a man who meant nothing but another flower on my tattoo. Deegan didn’t understand the circumstances, how truly dangerous they were, or he’d never let me continue on as bait. If I didn’t, then I’d lose him and the thrill I got from enacting justice.

“Wanna come up? I have an awesome set of brass knuckles for the next one.”
Deegan’s grin resembled a small boy’s with a new toy he couldn’t wait to show off. Contagious, his excitement gripped me and I followed him without another word.

I’d follow him anywhere.

Deegan disappeared up the stairs. I unscrewed the lid from my water, took a swig, and set it down. My virginity was bound to be ripped from me by some bastard I’d kill seconds later. Was that what I wanted? To have my first time be with a fricking prick that wanted the control and power of the moment? Or did I try to have my first time be with… I glanced in the direction Deegan had gone.

I wouldn’t want anyone else but Deegan as my first… and my last. But if we didn’t act on it soon, the option
would be lost and I might never be able or willing to have sex normally again. After each of our experiences, I’m brought closer to a total understanding of how rape victims have a difficult time with intimate relationships afterwards.

Still riding high on my after-kill-buzz, I climbed the steps, slowly and with determination. He’d give in that night or I’d do something so drastic… yeah, that’s as far as my threats were getting. I didn’t know what I would do if he rejected me… again.

My heart in my throat, then down in the V of my legs, back up in my throat, and suddenly there I was at the open door to his room. He rifled through a top drawer of a dresser perpendicular to the door. His bed… thank goodness it was large with multiple pillows and, surprisingly, made with a bright blue duvet and cream colored sheets. He’d always seemed orderly, but the organization of his room gave me chills.

Note to self, never let Deegan see the chaos of my room. He’d run screaming from the house and never come back. The thought of him in my room erased any nerves I carried.
I giggled, entering the room and stood beside him. Peering into the drawer with him, I nudged him with my elbow. “Find anything good?”

“Nah. Just can’t find the knuckles. I put them right here.” Distracted by his lost item, he turned toward the desk beside his bed and sat in the chair. Sliding the drawers out one at a time, Deegan searched for the punch enhancer.

Before I could lose all my bravado, I gripped the bottom hems of my layered shirts in both hands and pulled them off over my head. Slightly cool, the air of his room greeted my bare flesh and goose bumps rose along my arms. Other parts of me responded and from my experience luring men, tight nipples were like waving a green flag at a car race – go.

In the last few years since my rebellion of cutting off my hair and bleaching it, I’d grown out my dark brown locks. Reaching up to release the tight ponytail, I shook out my hair, flipping the majority of it over my shoulders, the ends grazing the skin of the small of my back as I moved. One chunk kept its position as it curled into my modest cleavage. I’d backed off working out so hard and had been able to develop more in the bra area even with my thinness unaffected.

I’d use my tattoo. I walked to the bed, careful to not run and hide under the covers. My dark jeans hung low on my hips. I stopped behind him, my heart rate careening with embarrassment and purpose. I’d have him that night. I had to. I could do it. “Hey, Deegan, can I ask you something?”

“Mmm hmmm.” He closed a drawer and dove into another, never even looking my way.

Raising an eyebrow, I puckered my lips. Okay. He asked for it. “Do you think I should add the flower tonight to this side or this side?” I lifted my arms and pointed at the vine on my waist while pushing my opposite breast up in the black lace underwire bra I’d chosen. Part of the rose-colored circle of my nipple peeked from the lace. “Here or here?”

Deegan turne
d from his desk and looked at my tattoo, almost eye level with him sitting, then his gaze traced up the creamy skin of my stomach to the black frame that held my breasts. His eyes widened as he took in that I stood in his room without a shirt on and with no parents in the house.

His mom had divorced his dad months before.

We were alone. And he knew it.

Eyes dark, he swiveled in the black office chair and gave a small shake to his head. He adjusted his eyes and focused on my tattoo, the lush green vine growing up my side. “Hmm. I don’t know. I like it here by the peony, but with the poppy at the top and the rose on the bottom, you might want to even it out a bit.” His fingertip touched each flower he named with deliberate care. Using the pad of his finger, he traced the vine between each one, stopping and starting. The warmth of his skin like fire in the cooler air.

I closed my eyes when he traced the calla lily I’d had placed for my mom. I hadn’t killed her but for some reason she deserved a spot on my memory vine. Nine flowers, eight for men who deserved it and one for a mom who had taught me justice and vengeance with her faith.

In the silence, his breathing matched mine in huskiness. His touch had intoxicated me, but when I felt his lips on the top of the vine, the heat unmatched, I moaned. I couldn’t help it.

He wrapped his hands around my waist and licked and nibbled at the tender flesh inked with our dates.

I couldn’t move. Had I wanted to, I might have slipped into his lap or just melted over his shoulder as he teased at my skin, but there was no movement going on. Period. Warmth flooded my lap. His hands, the heat, oh my word… suddenly his mouth strayed from the line and his forehead grazed my nipple in my bra as he kissed along my stomach and over my navel.

He dipped his head, nuzzling me. I dropped all pretenses I wanted him looking at my tattoo and reached behind me. The clasp on my bra gave easily and I flipped the flimsy material to the ground behind me.

Hands on his shoulders,
I couldn’t breathe and I threw my head back.

Deegan’s hot tongue flicked the tip of my… oh yes. I moaned again, grasping his head in my hands and holding on. I could have fainted. Passed out. I don’t know. But I’d never felt that tumultuous heat before as it coursed over me from the crown of my head to the spaces between my toes.

Deegan lifted me as he stood and all but threw me on the wide expanse of his bed. My hair splayed around me. He lay beside me and pulled me over onto his lap. From the way his body responded to me, he wasn’t going to be saying no in the immediate future.

I braced myself with my hands on his chest. In a voice caught between a whisper and a moan, I said, “It isn’t fair you’re the only
one with a shirt.” I reached beneath me, lifting my hips, and yanked the bottom of his shirt up, displaying his abs and then up further past his pecs.

My Deegan worked out. The shadows of definition promised hard strength with each contraction as he moved to pull his shirt off.

His eyes hooded and warm, he watched me. I replaced my hands on his chest. The soft fuzz of his hair tickled the sides of my palms.

Deegan studied me, and I suddenly wanted to pull the cape of hair around me, hide my imperfections. He’d run, if he saw the things I saw.

But he brushed my hair back, reaching up and collecting it all in a long ponytail again. He sat up, leaving me on his lap, straddling him like a horse. My thighs clenched and I let my arms go over his shoulders. The tips of my chest were at the level of his collarbones.

From below me, Deegan watched everything
. I couldn’t breathe. What would he do? Push me off him? I didn’t want to get off. I didn’t want to be done with him. I needed him… in the worst ways and the best ways.

“Cassie, do you want me to stop? Say now. You need to stop me now. Please.” His eyes begged me to stop him. For some unfathomable reason, he didn’t want to keep doing what he was doing.

I didn’t care. The night was for me. He wasn’t in danger of being raped every time we went out for a kill. He wasn’t in danger of dying. I was. Me. And I wanted one physical interaction to be because of my desires and wants. I wanted to be wrapped in someone’s arms that didn’t plan on hurting me over and over again. Even if it was this one and only time. I watched his lips and swallowed. “Don’t stop, Deegan. Please don’t stop.”

The pleading in my own voice
dwarfed the begging in his.

Something in him released and he tugged the handful of hair in his hands, pulling my head
back and lifting my chin, exposing my neck and chest. He caressed me, cajoled me, making me blush as I cried out.

He twisted a chunk of my hair around his finger. “One last time, Cass. Are you absolutely sure
this is what you want?”

“Yes. I want you. I want this. Please.” I kept the reasons to myself, close to my chest, and maybe if he got close enough
I’d share them with him. But only if he got close enough… if he didn’t get there this time, I’d make sure he tried after the next kill. Oh, yeah, we were going to do this again. And again. And again.

~17 years old~

Chapter 15

The tap-tap-tap of my nail on the chipped, scarred laminate of the visiting desk bit into the expectant silence. My dad stood behind me, flipping the tissue-thin paper of his bible with crisp irritation. Every other minute or so he punctuated his page-flipping with a heavy sigh.

I tossed exasperation over my shoulder in a glare. We’d been waiting for almost twenty minutes. My impatience had a very unvirtuous feel. If only these people knew what I could do.

Wait, Cassie. Stop thinking like that.

Thou shalt not kill. Remember.

An eye for an eye. Remember?

On the other side of the glass, the door opened and Deega
n stepped through. I half-stood. My anxious need to see him conflicted with the intense pain at seeing him in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit. We’d killed twice more since we’d shared his bed. Each time, we’d added sex to the tattoo tradition. But when we killed was the only time we did it.

I hadn’t seen him since the last one about four weeks before. I worried my desire might be linked more to the kill than to Deegan… until he walked in. I could’ve jumped him right there.

His accompanying officer pulled the chair out opposite me, the metal scraping and screeching on the linoleum flooring. Deegan hadn’t taken his gaze off me since he’d come in. The cop stepped back, crossing his arms and staring at some spot on the wall above the door on my side. Wow, if boredom had a poster child…

The phone piece hanging from my side of the wall matched the one on Deegan’s side. I reached for the cream colored piece and lifted it to my ear.

He did the same.

But neither of us could speak. We listened to the other breathe for one, two, three counts.

Dad cleared his throat and flipped another page.

Tears tightened my chest
but I’d been through worse. Harder. I could handle the small setback of Deegan in jail. I spoke first. “Hey.” Okay, I admit it wasn’t much, but I had an audience and so did he.

A shadow of his normal grin spread his lips. My heart ached. He tilted his head my way in a small nod. “Hey, Cass. How’s it goin’?”

Wrinkling my nose, I shifted my gaze to the right and jerked my finger toward my chest but pointed at my dad. “Things could be better, you know?”

At that, Deegan laughed.
He looked behind him at the cop and then back at me. “Yeah, I know.”

The situation wasn’t funny, not even a little bit, but our shared humor ran that way. Elbows deep in blood, Deegan and I c
ouldn’t help but laugh and make inappropriate comments. For some weird reason, it’s one of the best things about our relationship – how we fit so well. In more ways than one.

But my best-
friend couldn’t come out and play – ha, like everything we did was play. My smile faltered and a sharp prick at the backs of my eyes gave me pause, reminding me how I’d started. Only Deegan could make me forget tragedy, with his blond hair swept to the side and his bright blue eyes watching me like he knew I was up to something. He knew me so well.

At seventeen, I
was still a minor so Dad had to go with me to the jail where Deegan was held.

Heaven forbid, Dad find out what I’
d been up to. Aware of where the guard’s attention wandered, I wondered how to ask what I needed to. Plus, it’s not like my dad was really so engrossed in the Bible he wouldn’t figure things out.

We stared into each other’s eyes, trying to speak with flickering eyelids and small smiles.

A knock on his door and another officer poked his head in. The other officer nodded and followed the new cop out of the room.

We’d have minutes at the most.

Holding eye contact, I gripped the handset with both hands. “How?”

His eyes f
licked over my shoulder then returned to my face. Deegan pressed his lips together and his eyebrows creased. “Someone said something.”

“Was it her?” His faux-girlfriend.

“Yeah. She matched up the nights I wouldn’t meet with her with what we were doing. She called Dad.” Deegan stared at his twiddling thumbs.

I hadn’t been prepared for that one.
My sleeve slid up easily and I flashed the words I’d written on my forearm with magic marker.

I’ll tell them I did it. They’ll have to let you go.

Deegan half-rose from his seat. He braced one hand on the window and clenched the phone piece with the other. I could almost feel the heat from his words through the glass. His eyes burned mine with their intensity. “No. You have your whole life ahead of you. Finish school. Let me do this. I can do this. You can be safe.”

Standing, I pressed my open palm to his. Separat
ed from him by almost an inch of glass, my skin tingled as if we touched without a barrier. Tears threatened but I refused to let them through. I shook my head.

He swallowed.

We didn’t break eye contact. I couldn’t breathe. He had to let me help him. Seeing him behind that glass, in that outfit, made me sick. Made me wonder if our good deeds were worth all the pain they’d brought us.

I murmured softly as if into his ear
. “Can I do anything?”

He shook his head and put the phone down. We were past talking. He rested his head against the glass beside his hand, closing his eyes. I didn’t hesitate and copied his movements. We
were so close, but so far.

I couldn’t close my eyes. I had to see him.

The guard slipped back inside the room, returning to his position and staring at the wall.

Simultaneously we picked up our receivers. I didn’t try to stop the tears at that point. My feelings overwhelmed me and if I didn’t let them out, they’d drown me. There, in front of my dad, the guard, and Deegan. I would drown.

I could see the headlines. Girl drowns in sorrow while love of her life rots in jail for murders. How cliché. He shouldn’t be in jail.

Tears dripped from my cheeks to the table. The absolute silence highlighted the teeny splashes.

He sighed. “I miss you.”

“Me, too.” I sobbed. He didn’t realize it. He didn’t know. My strength sat across from me and I couldn’t access him. Desperation curdled my tone. “Let me do something. I know I can help. Deegan, please.”

He opened his eyes, tears sparkling under the fluorescent lighting. “Cassie. No. Please don’t do anything stupid. Anything. Ple- please.” His voice broke and nearly tore me in two.

I couldn’t say anything else. Not without giving my plans away to him or my dad. Not without hurting him. Scaring him. My lip quivered. The room pushed in around me.
I wanted to lie next to him in his bed, be back in that last moment where the only thing keeping me warm was the afterglow of our intimacy.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I… need to go. I’ll come back tomorrow.” I stared into his eyes.

My dad harrumphed behind me, shifting his feet. I broke contact with Deegan and glanced over my shoulder. Nothing would keep me from Deegan tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that. Nothing. Nobody. I turned back to Deegan, his blue eyes pulling me. “I will be back tomorrow. I promise.”

Deegan slid his gaze from me to my dad and back. “Don’t cause problems, Cass. He doesn’t like me as it is.”

I allowed another smile, but this one much smaller than the last. “It’s only because you aren’t a good example with tattoos and stuff.” And he wasn’t. He’d talked me into inking myself a long time ago. His own epidermis art graced his biceps and down onto well-formed forearms. Shaggy blond hair and rough stubble on his well-formed jaw gave him the appearance of someone who’d been in jail before – not to push a stereotype or anything.

Dad tapped my shoulder. Okay, he’d apparently had enough of his only daughter stressing over a piece of prison meat. I ignored him, but Deegan stood, nodding at my dad. Irritation brought a hard sigh and I muttered, “I’ll see you. Tomorrow.” We held a long stare before he clicked the phone into place and turned away.

~~~

Dad and I closed our doors at almost the same time. He hadn’t said a word since we’d signed out of the facility and walked across the lot. I’d grown out of the need to keep my dad happy a long time ago – not long after my thirteenth birthday. More out of necessity than anything.

Lost in the conversation I’d had with Deegan, I missed the first part of Dad’s remark. “…really need to go tomorrow? I have other things to do for the congregation.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need to hear the whole thing.

The click of his seatbelt rang into the silence. He wouldn’t get an answer either.

Thud! His hand struck the steering wheel making his keys jingle in the ignition. “I swore this morning, before we left, I wouldn’t get mad at you. Would do better as your father, but it’s like Satan himself is whispering my plans in your ear and you’re trying harder than ever to hurt me… make me angry.”

“Believe it or not, Dad, the whole reason for my existence is not wrapped up in pissing you off.” I stared out the window. I’d carefully worked on how I looked before leaving for the jail, but at the moment I didn’t give a flying flip about that as I ignored my reflection in the side mirror.

Dad shifted into drive. Our decade old minivan rolled out without too much coercion. “Cassie. I’d appreciate you watching your language. If not for me, then for our Lord.”

Honor thy parents.

“Dad.” I breathed deep. “I let Him down years ago.” Can’t you just keep leaving me alone?
Go back to drinking and missing
her
?

He fingered the cross hanging from the rearview mirror Mom had given him. “You can always go back. You can repent. Say you’re sorry. He’ll forgive you. He loves you.” The tone suggested I’d better tread lightly. I still wanted him to take me the next day to the jail. Minors need an adult present. I’d be a minor for a few more weeks.

But you don’t, right, Dad?
“I’ll take that under advisement.” You can’t say you’re sorry, if you plan on continuing with your sins. My sins were on repeat.