Page 8 of The Devil

Opening one can after another, I pour the contents over the bastard’s face, neck, and torso, to contaminate any evidence I might have left on his person before I take the empty cans with me to the SUV.

I cautiously glance around the area to make sure there are no witnesses, then climbing in behind the steering wheel, I head back to the gas station.

Only when I park across the road in a dark area and I pick up the binoculars again, do I exhale a breath of relief and take a sip of the soda I bought earlier.

Now I can watch Jenna in peace.

Chapter 3

JENNA

After Wiley leaves, I struggle to get my anxiety under control again.

Wiley has always given me serial killer vibes, and I hate when he comes to the gas station. He always tries to flirt with me, which leads me to being triggered.

God, I hate men.

Well, except for the men in K-dramas. It’s the only kind of romance I can watch because they keep things PG-rated and sweet.

Once I’m done cleaning the store and unpacking all the boxes, I get lost in the show I’m currently binging. Luckily, there are only three more customers who all stop for gas and don’t come into the store.

When it’s almost time to go home, I check the cash in the register and make a note for Mr. Cahoon.

I hear footsteps, and assuming it’s my boss, I unplug my charger, placing it in my backpack along with my phone.

Mr. Cahoon comes in and mumbles, “Morning.”

Nodding, I walk around the counter and give him a wave while leaving the store.

“Jenna,” he calls. When I stop and glance at him through the window, he says, “I need you to come in at six tonight.”

I nod again, then grab my bicycle. Climbing on, I begin to pedal away from my place of work. It’s still dark out, but the sun will start rising soon.

Even though it’s August, the mornings are cool, but I quickly warm up from the exercise as I pedal to where my house is on the outskirts of town.

It takes me forty-five minutes to get home, and half the roads are uphill, so by the time I come to a stop, I’m sweaty and out of breath. Getting to work is a much smoother ride.

I glance at the house that’s practically falling apart, and when I unlock the front door, the lock sticks, and I have to jerk at the handle until the key finally turns.

Pushing the creaking door open, I pull my bicycle inside and lean it against the wall before locking the door and securing the two deadbolts.

I shrug off my backpack and take out my phone as I walk to the kitchen, and while I fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich, I continue watching my show.

My life is so dull, I eat grilled cheese every Tuesday, ramen and a fried egg on Wednesdays, tuna and rice on Thursdays, sloppy Joes on toast on Fridays, mac n cheese on Saturdays, and spaghetti and meatballs on Sundays. Mondays, I keep for whatever is about to expire, so no food goes to waste.

I get lost in the Korean food and culture, wishing I could try to prepare some of the yummy dishes they always show on the TV series.

When it gets close to the moment the hero finally kisses the girl, my heartbeat speeds up. It’s almost always closed-mouth, and their lips hardly move, but still, I swoon every time.

I wish I lived in a K-drama and not in this hellhole.

Done eating, I quickly clean up before I go to my bedroom so I can soak in the tub. I walk through the two-bedroom house with my eyes locked on the screen of my phone and blindly grab my pajamas.

In the bathroom, I switch on the faucets and sit down on the closed toilet lid. A grin spreads over my face when the leading actors finally kiss, and I let out a soft sigh.

I’ve only been kissed once. I was fifteen, and just as I thought I got my first boyfriend, Jeremy moved away with his parents.

We texted for a few months, but then he stopped all contact with me. He probably got a new girlfriend who didn’t like him talking to me.