Page 9 of Fatally Yours

My gaze stuck to his disheveled dress shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing the tire treads forced upon his skin.

His parents picked his attire when they buried him.

If it were me, he would’ve looked more like he did in life.

Rugged and rebellious, not pretending that was something he wore in everyday life.

It felt fake, but I kept my mouth shut. It was hard when everyone was in tears.

His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and the one that was sunken in that day had a ghostly pale hue to it.

There was a smear of blood along his lip—blood that I tasted as his life slipped away.

Webs of purple veins were pressing against the inside of his skin, but they no longer pulsed with the vigor of life.

He looked like a shadow of who he once was.

I blinked away the tears, thinking my melancholy was now making me delusional.

My hands were trembling against my chest. I should’ve been excited if this were all real, but all I felt was dread.

The crumpled expression on his ashen face indicated his rage well enough.

My throat tightened as I thought about what he could’ve heard or, worse, seen.

There would be no forgiveness for such a revolting act, and whatever punishment he would dish out to me would be earned for how filthy I felt.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said coldly.

My heart began to race like it was going to break through my ribcage and send me to the grave.

He expressed no joy at our reunion. There was only the crosshairs of his anger directed at me.

My mouth went dry as I struggled to speak through what I hoped wasn’t fear.

“A-August? You–you were dead…” I could barely squeeze out the words.

His mismatched glare sent a shiver down my spine as I recalled that horrid day when someone took him away from me.

There were times when the echo of those tires screeching crawled through my brain.

The injury to his eye, the treads forced into his chest, the blood on his lips; it was all there in the flesh—dead flesh.

The ritual worked. It was late, but it worked.

And now he was going to hate me—or worse.

“I told you I was gonna live forever.”

“I-it fucking worked…” I said in disbelief.

“How did it fucking work?” Tears were still resting on my eyelids, but his presence sucked my breath away.

A flurry of feelings was rushing through my head—relief, fear, sorrow—but the most prominent one was guilt.

Why did he have to return now when I was just disloyal to him?

He took a step forward, and for some instinctual reason, I took a step back.

“I don’t share secrets—or betray my loved ones,” he growled. My face sank, knowing fully well that I could not deceive him—not that I would. Even through the sheen of death, I could see a fleck of sadness in his eyes, only masked by more prominent rage.

“Devin, really? That fucker?”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me. Not like you did. ”

“Sure, but you have no problem sucking his cock,” he bit.

I shook my head, feeling my throat close up at the thought.

If only he knew how much I hated it and everything else.

All the sleepless nights and endless days of tears.

I couldn’t begin to tell him how much I spent on tissues, supplements, and booze just to get through this.

Even so, it wasn’t enough. My lip trembled.

“I-It wasn’t like that. I didn’t even want to,” I pleaded. His expression fell like I just crushed him. His shoulders drooped, his brow furrowed, and his lips parted like I had just stolen the words from his mouth. The anger was there, but it was more hurt than anything.

“Why would you be with him if he did something like that to you?” he questioned, with an ache in his voice.

I wished I had an acceptable answer for him, but grief made you do stupid things, like being with a guy who would’ve preferred if you didn’t exist and thinking that sex was going to make all our problems go away.

I was lonely, and he came in and supported me—swayed me—until I was locked in.

If August lost me, maybe he would’ve understood how hard it was.

“August, you fucking died. He was there for me—”

“And I wasn’t?” he interrupted. “After everything we’ve been through…” His fists balled at his sides as I wiped more tears away, unable to stop the flow. This should’ve been a joyful moment, but here I was, sobbing again.

“I’m sorry!” I cried as my voice cracked with my words.

“You have no idea how lonely I was without you. I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t eat…” My emotions sucked the rest of my voice away as I pressed my palms to my face in a pitiful attempt to hide my sorrows.

If only he knew a fraction of the pain I felt in his absence.

I couldn’t tell him how many times I wished it were me who died and not him.

Or all the times I thought about joining him.

That day changed my life, changed me, forever.

“He called you a bitch, Natasha.”

“I know.” My voice wavered as I tried and failed to pull myself together.

When I wiped my eyes, my hands were smeared with black from my makeup.

This was a good thing, so why was I crying so much?

And why did I feel so scared? This was why we went to the cemetery and did the ritual, because of how much we wanted him back .

“I missed you so much…” I blubbered. His eyes were as cold as death as he looked down at me with his dark gaze.

“Then… why haven’t you embraced me?” he asked. My bottom lip trembled. That was a good question, wasn’t it? I wished I had an answer for him or myself, but the words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.

“You’re dead…” My voice creaked. His expression never changed despite my terrible response.

The actual answer was more akin to guilt or fear, even though I thought he would never let me feel afraid of him.

It was hard not to when your once-dead boyfriend was standing in your living room, infuriated beyond belief with you.

“You guys did that ritual, and it worked,” he said. I felt more tears stream down my face and brushed them away. If only he knew how much I wanted to hold him, but my body wouldn’t allow me to move. It was like terror froze me in place.

“I couldn’t come back without a price, baby,” he said.

“I need to pay my debt. A life for a life.” He took a step forward and closed the gap between us.

He was close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but I was motionless.

I tried and failed to dissolve the lump in my throat.

This was supposed to be a beautiful reunion, and I was ruining it. I ruined it.

“And I think I’ll start with you for betraying me,” he declared. My heart skipped like I had been poked with a cattle prod, and I jumped back. His fists were balled, and even though his skin was almost transparent, I swore I could’ve seen his knuckles turn white.

“August—”

“I thought we’d be together forever, but you let him touch you,” he growled. “Did you fuck him?” I shook my head as my hands curled against my chest.

“No! I couldn’t…” My throat felt tight as I pondered how he would pay his debt.

What would someone who died do to fulfill such a promise?

There were a few things I could think of, and none of them ended favorably for me.

But there was no way he could do that, at least not the August I previously knew.

The sinister smile on his face made my skin ripple with goosebumps as he looked at me with those mismatched eyes.

There was something different about him besides the fact that he was back from the dead.

Maybe that was why I felt so scared, because my instincts could sense that he wasn’t the same person I once knew.

Replaced by an impostor, like in that movie.

But I knew better than that. This was August, just not the living one.

He was the one warped by the melancholy of dying, vengeful and angry.

“I should kill him. In fact, I think I will once I’m done with you,” he said.

My shoulders fell as the feeling of defeat crept up on me.

There was nothing I could do to prevent this besides begging.

I wondered if he would hear my cries through the haze of death or if he would be as soulless as his body.

“August, please…”

“But first, I’m going to remind you how much I missed you.

” He stepped forward, raising his hand, and I felt my body grow rigid.

I was frozen in place, and even though panic was coursing through my veins like intoxication, I was unable to move.

A scream was rolling up my throat, but it was silenced by my stillness.

Looking down, I saw the floor shifting beneath me, and my cadaver-stiff body moved effortlessly through our home until I crossed the threshold of our bedroom.

Familiar, echoing footsteps followed as my feet scraped across the floor.

My heart was beating with raw fear as I landed atop the bed like I had been tossed across the room by a ghostly force.

This was something straight out of a horror movie.

Lightning flashing through the rain-stained windows, thunder crashing, and August, pale and cruel, staring down at me like I was prey.

He smirked and flicked his hand again, and my blouse tore down the middle.

Instinctively, my hands raised to my chest to cover myself.

I couldn’t understand why I did that. I never hid myself from him before, so why was I doing so now?

My stomach turned, but I didn’t think it was from arousal.

Not when I couldn’t stop myself from shaking.