Page 47 of Not Her Day to Die

And it is. I am standing in the ghosts of hundreds, if not thousands, of traumatic events. It saps into the air, and I swallow thickly around it.

Gulp down the past and future suffering.

Could we have saved them before now? Could we have prevented this?

“I know,” Darius growls.

“We have to stop this, Darius. You understand that, don’t you? No matter what.” And I mean it. My brother and Tripp died because of this town, because of this evil.

Not to mention the other victims.

Julia. Tiffany. Luna.

Carrie.

Because now that I know what Maxwell truly is, I know that she is down here somewhere. And if she isn’t yet, she will be soon.

Fending off the inevitable.

“No matter what,” he agrees.

“Your votes are cast. It appears you want me to become a grandpa! No protection it is. Now some of us prefer to watch, but others prefer to direct. What will it be? Will we let my son fuck her how he wants the first go round?” There’s booing in the crowd. “But then you all get to pick how he does the second round?” The boos are replaced with disgusting cheers. “No votes needed! Darius, you heard them! Give us a show!”

Even I can hear the threat in Sterling’s voice. Broken through the speaker and echoing around us, but it is like he is standing right before us, as if he is physically pushing us together.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“No,” Darius responds. “Sunday this is…” He bends forward. “This is my first time.Ever. I don’t want to hurt you. I know this is stupid fucking anxiety, but what if I’m awful? Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t live with myself.”

The realization slices through me.

Darius is a virgin.

A wave of sadness pulsates through me. My hands reach up, cupping Darius’s face. “I won’t hate you,” I promise. “Do what you need to do.”

I am determined to block out the crowd. To pretend Darius and I exist in a bubble. I will not pay attention to the background jeering. To the bed in the center of the stage.

Darius breathes against my lips, his arms wrapping around me protectively. “Sunday, this round, they’re going to let me take care of you. But the next? However many more they make us go through? I might have to hurt you, to do things you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I understand.” And I do. As long as it is Darius and not anyone else, everything will be okay. We’ll make it through this.

“Let’s set the mood for them!” Sterling exclaims. “And turn on their mics!”

The light that had been so blinding before dims, but thankfully the onlookers are in complete darkness too.

But I still know that they’re there.

Will they simply watch us? Will they play out their own sick fantasies in the crowd?

Squashing the thought and ignoring them, I lift up on my toes and press my lips against Darius’s to press physically into him that this is okay. That I am here in this moment with him. That we will make it through this.Together.

Familiarity, comfort, warmth. It is as if my heart is suturing itself, as if he is a bucket that I am desperately pouring all of myself into.

He opens, his tongue coming out to tangle with mine.

The cool metal of his piercing is present as he loses himself to this moment. It is a reminder of who he is, of our connection. His hands come up, one catches in my hair, the other grips the back of my neck. Sealing us further together.

The sounds of our kiss echo on speakers around us, but I tune it out. When I first realized what this was going to be I promised myself that I would focus on Darius. That I would do anything and everything I could to enjoy this forced encounter.