Page 60

60

Technically, it wasn’t cheating on Blake.

Blake and I are on a break, and tomorrow morning, Malcolm will return my ring to him. Also, he cheated first, so I am allowed at least one freebie. Plus, this was basically pity sex, so I’m not even sure it counts.

It was extremely average, or a bit worse than average, if I’m being completely honest. Elijah didn’t quite know what to do, and the foreplay was nonexistent, but it was enthusiastic and about what I expected. He loved it, so there’s that.

Now it’s an hour later, and it’s time for me to go. I slip back into the short, clingy green dress that Blake used to compliment me on—I remember him running his fingers along the small of my back and telling me how sexy I looked in it. He always loved it when I dressed up.

After I’m fully clothed, I check out my appearance in the bathroom mirror. I look tired but still good. I have a lot of decent years ahead of me before I start to look old. There’s a splotch of dark red on my chin, and I scrub at it with soap until it’s gone. I take my hair out of the bun and fix it atop my head so instead of being sloppy, it looks stylishly messy, the way Blake likes it.

When I am satisfied, I come out of the bathroom and return to the bedroom to say goodbye to Elijah.

He’s lying on the bed, a hint of a satisfied smile on his lips. It was average for me, but it was a wild ride for him. He thanked me when it was over, which was actually very sweet. His arms are lying on either side of him, very still.

And also, his throat has been split by a bloody gash.

I felt bad about it. I truly did. But Elijah knew far too much about me, and his crush on me was bordering on unhealthy. It’s better this way.

Anyway, I’m not a terrible person. I gave Elijah a good time before I cut his throat open. He literally went out with a bang. And I waited until he was very sleepy and satisfied to do it. It was all over in a split second—he barely even knew he was dying.

Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day, and I don’t want to have to worry about Elijah fretting over me like a mother hen. I’ve gotten what I need from him.

“Goodbye, Elijah,” I tell him.

He doesn’t answer.

I’m not leaving immediately. I’m going to wipe down everything in the apartment that I touched. I have to wait until the coast is clear to leave, not that anyone here will recognize me. And I get the feeling Elijah doesn’t have many friends. There’s nothing to connect the two of us.

It feels satisfying to check off the boxes. First Mr. Zimmerly, then Stacie, now Elijah. Only two left. By tomorrow, I will have set everything right.