Page 15 of Fatally Yours

After I finally stopped crying, August took my hand, and we made our way to the side of the road.

It was a relatively long hike, and the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, making the sky glow with an array of beautiful colors.

A burning orange outlined the clouds, fading into pinks and lavenders.

I never realized how lovely it was until I died.

Despite our lack of life, I still felt exhausted by the time we reached the road.

I was panting and habitually wiping sweat away, even though my head wasn’t damp.

In addition to that, the dry air made my mouth dry.

Maybe it was just all in my head, but my world had been turned upside down. I wasn’t sure what to expect .

Cars were zooming by, scooping our hair in a whirlwind each time one sped past. August glanced at me and stuck his thumb out as I nibbled my lip.

Getting picked up meant interacting with people.

Living people. They would ask questions about our see-through skin, dark circles, and August’s strange eyes.

I only hoped he had a good excuse because anything I would say would only draw more attention. He was always the better liar.

A few cars beeped at us as they passed, but no one stopped until a squealing green truck pulled over and came to a halt on the shoulder.

I gave August a look, and he nodded to me.

Something told me this was a terrible idea, but there wasn’t a faster way to town unless he could teleport us there.

I knew there was probably a limit to his abilities.

I followed him to the passenger side window and observed from behind as August poked his head in. Even though I couldn’t see who was driving, I trusted him to make the right decision, even if he proved himself less than reliable before, like when he murdered me.

“You folks need a ride somewhere?” the gravelly voice said. I tapped my foot anxiously on the dirt as more cars raced by. August nodded.

“Yes, sir. Back to town, please,” he said as confidently as he would’ve in life.

“Alright. Go ahead and get in.” He motioned for me to join him as he pried open the back door. He got in first, and I climbed in, feeling my heart somehow sink as I glanced at the driver.

It was the man from the flea market who sold us the book.

After that day, I could never forget his face.

My toes curled as I buckled myself in and grabbed August’s hand in a vice-like grip.

The truck took off, and we remained silent.

The radio was muffled with occasional static as my gaze bored into August. He squeezed my hand, and I felt the panic rising in my chest, fearing that the man would recognize him as the person who died that day.

I grasped his hand until my nails left little indents in his cold flesh, locking my eyes on him and occasionally wiping my hand over my forehead, swearing that I could feel sweat pouring down my face from my nerves. After some time passed, the man looked back at us through the rear-view mirror.

“You kids alright? Ya look a little… ill,” he said. My hand tightened around his.

“Just tired,” August replied, giving me a squeeze back as he glanced out the window.

The man nodded. Even though I previously enjoyed the experience of low music, the windows down, and traveling the highway, right now, my stomach was filling with invisible insects like that fate I escaped when I returned to him.

The urge to scream and sprint from the vehicle grew by the minute. The only thing keeping me grounded was his hand in mine and the possibility of splattering across the pavement—if I could splatter at all anymore.

“Say, you look familiar, miss.” The man stole another look back at us, surely because of our sickly appearance. If only I had the courage to tell him we wanted to be left alone, but my throat was closing from the weight of my worries.

“Didn’t you and your friend buy a book from me a while back? Little blonde girl? Kinda kooky?” he said. “She was pretty… memorable.”

“Y-yeah…” If I were still able to faint, I feared that I would.

My head was spinning, thinking about what would happen if someone discovered what was going on with us.

Government experiments, torture, an eternity of suffering, all because someone couldn’t keep their damn mouth shut.

August’s eyes were ripped from the scene outside, and he was staring at me, almost like he was waiting for me to trip up.

“Ah. One about serial killers, right?” the man asked. Oh, how I wished he were right. If only it were a simple murder story and not something to teach us how to commit crimes against nature.

“Y-yeah. It was… interesting.”

The man smiled. “Well, even though I don’t agree with enriching yourself with that sort of subject matter, you did help me pay the bills,” he said.

“Hell, honestly, I pulled that thing out of a box in my friend’s attic.

Guess that’s what I get for being a charity case.

” He chuckled as the environment outside became more familiar, curdling my stomach further.

“Something happened that day, but I skipped out before I got the entire story. I heard some guy got hit by a car or somethin’. Real shame.”

“Yeah.” August looked at me with a steely expression.

“Real shame.” The man eventually turned up the radio, and we spent the rest of the ride in silence, much to my relief.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached the outskirts of our town, and I felt a flutter in my insides that wouldn’t go away, one that almost made me feel alive.

“Gas ‘N’ Dash a good place to drop ya?” the driver asked.

August nodded as I released his hand. Gas ‘N’ Dash was right by our home.

The idea that we were going back after everything that had happened made me feel conflicted.

I knew we weren’t going to be there for long and that my dream of a normal life was dissolved the moment we stepped foot in that damn market.

We pulled up to the gas station, and the man parked his truck at the pump.

I opened the door, imagining that I was breathing a sigh of relief right about now if I could.

Once it slammed shut and I no longer felt the suffocation of panic, the man tipped his fraying hat at us with a warm, checkerboard smile.

“Hope y’all get some rest. You look like you’ve one foot in the grave,” he remarked. My eyes went to August, hoping to get this done and over with without exposing our lack of life. He returned a friendly face, but neglected to bare his teeth.

“Thanks,” he said simply, taking my hand and leading us down the road.

The sun was in full bloom as I picked up the pace, hoping not to draw any wandering eyes.

August trailed behind me until our arms extended, and I turned around and gave him a desperate expression. He sighed sadly and matched my speed.

We were getting closer to home, and I was expecting more stress.

There would be a swarm of police, caution tape, evidence bags, and more.

I wasn’t exactly sure of the amount of time between being last seen and crawling from the grave, but I knew that someone was bound to report me missing.

If it were Monday, someone at work would notice my absence if they didn’t assume I was skipping out to sob into my pillow again.

The police would see the scene, and an investigation would start, sparking more trouble.

My heart sank when our home came into view. Our car was still there, and everything appeared untouched. No uniformed men had notepads, nor were there streaks of yellow crime scene tape around the yard. No one was looking for me, and maybe no one would ever find me.

I dropped August’s hand, and my palms went to my face again. He turned to me with a pained look on his face as I felt tears slip from my eyes again.

“No one is looking for me…” I whimpered. His shoulders drooped as he placed his arm around my quaking form.

“Don’t say that…” he said sadly, pulling me towards him as I sobbed.

“I should’ve talked to my parents more.”

“Stop—”

“I should’ve been nicer to Mandy about her serial killer thing.”

“Please, Tash—”

“I should’ve done more with my life and—”

“Natasha!” August’s stern voice ceased my spiraling. I snapped out of it with tears resting on my eyelids and stared at him wide-eyed. He let out another sigh and took my hands in his.

“You and I can do so much more now,” he said.

“ Be so much more. This world can be ours. We just have to take it.” My heart would be fluttering right now if it could.

Taking the world? I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t want anything to do with it.

All I wanted was to return to a normal life, even if that was impossible.

As close to normal as possible would be acceptable, however, I had a feeling he had bigger plans.

“Fuck being at home. Fuck living a normal life. Fuck it all. We can take all these losers out. Devin and anyone else who has screwed us over. That slime bag, Officer Wilson, and whoever took me away from you. Maybe more.”

“I don’t know if I can…”

“You will,” he said. His mismatched eyes burned into me with the fury of death.

My nausea might have increased, but I was unsure if his words were meant to convince me or if it was a demand.

“Being dead changes you, Tash. You forget about being mortal and only focus on the allure, the strength, the power…” I gulped.

“Like how you made me move without touching me?” I tore my gaze away from him, fearing his words would force that change upon me with his smothering eyes.

“And where you got that knife? The one that…” I trailed off, not wanting to say it.

He was right. Being dead changes you, and it does it in the most wicked of ways.

“Yeah.” He averted his eyes, and I knew there was still a flicker of the real him. The one who felt guilt for the horrific act he inflicted upon me, not the one who was tarnished by the sickness of death.

“Do I get powers like that?”

“No, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” The answer he gave me made my stomach flip—if it could.

“Because you were a secondary resurrection. Not one that was bound by a ritual… and other things,” he explained.

I figured it was something like that, and I didn’t even want the powers.

It was sheer curiosity. But there was something else that I wondered about.

His wording was ominous, just like many of the other things he said.

“Like what?”

“Hell, the devil, torment—” Immediately, I began to cry again, thinking about his torturous experiences in the afterlife. Flashes of gore and agony were burning in my brain, and they were happening to the man I loved. He pulled me close to him again, hushing me.

“Don’t think about it,” August muttered, kissing my forehead.

“You don’t have to think about it, baby.

” I continued to cry as even his comfort and knowing he was out of there brought me no calm.

Dwelling on it was suffering incarnate, and I couldn’t stop those unrelenting images from bombarding my head as I sobbed into his chest again.

“Maybe staying home for a night would be good,” he said. I nodded against him.

“I just want one last night to feel normal again,” I croaked. “No one’s going to look for me for a few days, if ever…” He pulled my head away from him and looked at me with his frighteningly alluring, uneven eyes.

“You know I would look for you,” he said. “And even if the world was on fire, I would never stop.”