A/n: So I typed this chapter originally using the phone app of the Weebly website during my free time at work... Let me just tell you, that was a terrible, horrible, no good, VERY bad mistake! Using and editing this site is pretty great when you are on a laptop, but the phone app for this site is so difficult to use for editing and extremely glitchy. Somehow, the whole chapter got deleted! Do you know how incredibly frustrating it is to have to re-write everything you've wrote, after making so much progress?? Ugh, I just had to vent about my devastation and annoyance. Anyway, hope you enjoy the update!
Next Chapter Coming Soon!
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The Mortician Ch. 1
The cabin he and Rachel shared was quiet and cold. The large box television that they used occasionally for movies glowed and flickered in the darkness and hissed with static. His tiny blonde companion hadn't even made it half way through the film before passing out on his shoulder. With more care and patience than he normally possessed, he'd managed to removed her from him without waking her. Her brows furrowed a bit as he did so and she seemed to miss his warmth even though she was unconscious.
After a short time, Zack found himself shuffling around the room frantically and pacing in frustration. He abruptly stopped, raking a hand through his hair. He was troubled and anxious, but... he knew his mind had already been made up days ago. He stopped and returned to the couch where Ray slept.
Zack stared down at her slumbering face, his towering presence looming over her tiny form. Her pale cheeks were lightly flushed from sleep and her chest rose and fell steadily with her even breaths. Time passed and he'd lost track of how long he'd been standing there looking at her, as if to memorize the contours of her doll like features in the dim light. She suddenly shivered despite the blanket draped over her that she was curled up in.
He drew a long breath and sighed heavily. He shrugged himself out of his hooded jacket to lay over her fondly. Refusing to get sentimental, he quickly dismissed the feeling. He couldn't handle allowing himself to feel weird emotions like that.
He couldn't quite pinpoint when it had happened or how... but he'd realized he had grown attached to Rachel and he liked having her around. It made him physically sick to acknowledge those feelings, even just to himself. It was sort of like when he lived with the blind old man who took him in for awhile as a kid. The man had took care of him and expected nothing in return, which Rachel also did. The old man never judged him for being a psychopath and neither did Ray. Both Ray and the old man made him feel weird and it confused him. They were similar in some aspects, but Ray was special somehow in a different way. Though he could make sense of his feelings a little better now than he could back then when he was a child, he still was at a loss on how to deal with it.
While he threw tantrums and made messes, Rachel often cooked and made sure they had food. She brought back movies, cards or games, and books to pass the time and keep his agitated mind busy. She taught him to read, and she always cleaned up after him without complaint. He couldn't understand how she was able to put up with him with such an incredible ease... violent outbursts, mood swings and all. Regrettably, he knew he'd taken her for granted. She didn't deserve his unwarranted abuse. He was always pushing her around and emotionally pushing her away. He admittedly needed to work on expressing himself, but that was much easier said than done.
Ray had always been more mature than him, despite their six-year age difference. Though she had been practically a child when they first met, her physical appearance had clearly caught up to her mentality in the time they'd spent together. Though she had gotten a little taller, she still had an overall short and petite stature. Her figure on the other hand, had become much more shapely and filled out. Before long, he realized that she was starting to have a disturbing affect on him. Her long bare legs, the curve of her hips, her developed breasts and smooth pale skin... everything about her enticed him in ways he hadn't experienced before.
She had no idea what she did to him, or how the littlest of things she did left him frustrated and mad with desire. He didn't want to experience those kinds of urges. He'd never act on them either. The thought gave him unpleasant chills just thinking about it.
Somewhere along the line, he'd realized that he no longer wished to kill Rachel, which was very troublesome. He'd just been making up excuses and biding time... He couldn't bring himself to hurt her let alone kill her like she expected. It was around that time, that he began contemplating what he should do about it. Somehow, he had turned into a liar and a hypocrite and the thought bothered him deeply.
More than just his feelings towards Ray was changing. He was changing... He wasn't feeling his brash self lately. He was tired. Killing in general didn't even thrill him much anymore. He'd become so bored with it, he'd nearly stopped completely. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know how to handle these changes and feelings he was experiencing. So he was running from them... and from her.
Their days together had always been numbered, it was just in a different way now. What quality of life could she ever have with him anyway? He was a wanted serial killer, just lowly scum in the eyes of society. He would always be a fugitive and a criminal, always on the run and in hiding. It was too late for him to have a real life, but not for her. She deserved a normal life... a life that didn't include him in it.
He heaved the bag he'd packed over his shoulder and turned to head for the door, a strange heavy feeling in his chest. He stopped to glance over his shoulder at her. She was merely a lump under the blanket and his jacket from this distance. It was cold outside, but he was willing to part with his jacket if it meant she'd keep it. In his mind, he was saying goodbye. He knew, he'd never see her again.
'Goodbye, Ray.'
After a short time, Zack found himself shuffling around the room frantically and pacing in frustration. He abruptly stopped, raking a hand through his hair. He was troubled and anxious, but... he knew his mind had already been made up days ago. He stopped and returned to the couch where Ray slept.
Zack stared down at her slumbering face, his towering presence looming over her tiny form. Her pale cheeks were lightly flushed from sleep and her chest rose and fell steadily with her even breaths. Time passed and he'd lost track of how long he'd been standing there looking at her, as if to memorize the contours of her doll like features in the dim light. She suddenly shivered despite the blanket draped over her that she was curled up in.
He drew a long breath and sighed heavily. He shrugged himself out of his hooded jacket to lay over her fondly. Refusing to get sentimental, he quickly dismissed the feeling. He couldn't handle allowing himself to feel weird emotions like that.
He couldn't quite pinpoint when it had happened or how... but he'd realized he had grown attached to Rachel and he liked having her around. It made him physically sick to acknowledge those feelings, even just to himself. It was sort of like when he lived with the blind old man who took him in for awhile as a kid. The man had took care of him and expected nothing in return, which Rachel also did. The old man never judged him for being a psychopath and neither did Ray. Both Ray and the old man made him feel weird and it confused him. They were similar in some aspects, but Ray was special somehow in a different way. Though he could make sense of his feelings a little better now than he could back then when he was a child, he still was at a loss on how to deal with it.
While he threw tantrums and made messes, Rachel often cooked and made sure they had food. She brought back movies, cards or games, and books to pass the time and keep his agitated mind busy. She taught him to read, and she always cleaned up after him without complaint. He couldn't understand how she was able to put up with him with such an incredible ease... violent outbursts, mood swings and all. Regrettably, he knew he'd taken her for granted. She didn't deserve his unwarranted abuse. He was always pushing her around and emotionally pushing her away. He admittedly needed to work on expressing himself, but that was much easier said than done.
Ray had always been more mature than him, despite their six-year age difference. Though she had been practically a child when they first met, her physical appearance had clearly caught up to her mentality in the time they'd spent together. Though she had gotten a little taller, she still had an overall short and petite stature. Her figure on the other hand, had become much more shapely and filled out. Before long, he realized that she was starting to have a disturbing affect on him. Her long bare legs, the curve of her hips, her developed breasts and smooth pale skin... everything about her enticed him in ways he hadn't experienced before.
She had no idea what she did to him, or how the littlest of things she did left him frustrated and mad with desire. He didn't want to experience those kinds of urges. He'd never act on them either. The thought gave him unpleasant chills just thinking about it.
Somewhere along the line, he'd realized that he no longer wished to kill Rachel, which was very troublesome. He'd just been making up excuses and biding time... He couldn't bring himself to hurt her let alone kill her like she expected. It was around that time, that he began contemplating what he should do about it. Somehow, he had turned into a liar and a hypocrite and the thought bothered him deeply.
More than just his feelings towards Ray was changing. He was changing... He wasn't feeling his brash self lately. He was tired. Killing in general didn't even thrill him much anymore. He'd become so bored with it, he'd nearly stopped completely. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know how to handle these changes and feelings he was experiencing. So he was running from them... and from her.
Their days together had always been numbered, it was just in a different way now. What quality of life could she ever have with him anyway? He was a wanted serial killer, just lowly scum in the eyes of society. He would always be a fugitive and a criminal, always on the run and in hiding. It was too late for him to have a real life, but not for her. She deserved a normal life... a life that didn't include him in it.
He heaved the bag he'd packed over his shoulder and turned to head for the door, a strange heavy feeling in his chest. He stopped to glance over his shoulder at her. She was merely a lump under the blanket and his jacket from this distance. It was cold outside, but he was willing to part with his jacket if it meant she'd keep it. In his mind, he was saying goodbye. He knew, he'd never see her again.
'Goodbye, Ray.'
Zack walked through the cold, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. He finally made it to the payphone sitting outside a gas station. He lifted the phone from the cradle and dialed the police.
When a man's deep voice picked up on the other end, a lump formed in Zack's throat. He swallowed hard in attempt to relieve it. There was no turning back. He couldn't afford to lose his resolve now.
"Hello?" The man inquired again in response to the silence on the other end of the line.
"There's a wanted murderer living in an abandoned cabin in the woods on the edge of town," he informed, deciding it best to keep the conversation short and vague. After all, their cabin was the only residence in the woods or even around that area for miles. "There's a young girl in trouble. Send help immediately." With that, he abruptly hung up.
He blew into his hands to warm them a little. There were gaps in the wrapping of his fingers and he could barely feel the tips of them. He suddenly realized, the police could potentially get partial prints off the payphone. He then lifted his shirt to wipe his prints from the phone, shuddering from the brisk air on his nearly bare skin.
He obviously wouldn't be there when the cops showed up at the cabin, where he left Ray asleep on the couch. He wanted them to come for her. He wanted her to start living the live she deserved to have, but she likely would never do so unless she was forced to.
He left and made himself disappear again, like he was so good at doing.
When a man's deep voice picked up on the other end, a lump formed in Zack's throat. He swallowed hard in attempt to relieve it. There was no turning back. He couldn't afford to lose his resolve now.
"Hello?" The man inquired again in response to the silence on the other end of the line.
"There's a wanted murderer living in an abandoned cabin in the woods on the edge of town," he informed, deciding it best to keep the conversation short and vague. After all, their cabin was the only residence in the woods or even around that area for miles. "There's a young girl in trouble. Send help immediately." With that, he abruptly hung up.
He blew into his hands to warm them a little. There were gaps in the wrapping of his fingers and he could barely feel the tips of them. He suddenly realized, the police could potentially get partial prints off the payphone. He then lifted his shirt to wipe his prints from the phone, shuddering from the brisk air on his nearly bare skin.
He obviously wouldn't be there when the cops showed up at the cabin, where he left Ray asleep on the couch. He wanted them to come for her. He wanted her to start living the live she deserved to have, but she likely would never do so unless she was forced to.
He left and made himself disappear again, like he was so good at doing.
Next Chapter Coming Soon!
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