57. Free Bird

57

FREE BIRD

LESTER

ABOUT THREE YEARS LATER ― July 2 nd , 1979

My little nymph looks at me with a hungry―slightly drunk―look in her eyes as she reels me in with her finger on the dancefloor. Her hips sway from side to side as she moves along to the horrifying disgrace that is disco music, and I can't help but suck my lip inside my mouth to stifle my impending snort.

My stunning girl has just graduated from the academy with honors, at the top of her class. She looks beautiful as always, clad in a pretty burgundy dress with a deep V-neckline and thin straps, and long hair sways around her as she moves.

I meet her in the middle, lots of graduates and guests surrounding us, all dancing in the same fashion. "Angel," I mumble against her ear as I take her in my arms. "Don't you hate disco?"

She giggles. "There's an alcohol demon inside my body right now, Professor. And he doesn't hate disco as much. He likes to boogie." Grabbing my hands, she holds them above us as she tries to make me ‘boogie' with her. She's practically panting. "Besides, I'll dance to anything as long as I get to dance with you."

I shake my head amusedly, planting a kiss on her forehead. I do exactly what she wants. Over the years I've just given into it.

" Oh, do a little dance, make a little love. Get down tonight, get down tonight… " We move along to the terrible song and she's giggling all the way through. I'm going to have to carry her home because she's drunk off her ass. " Do a little dance, make a little love…"

She wraps one arm around my neck and I automatically plant my hands at her waist. I bend my head to meet her big, brown eyes, and she boops my nose. "I can't wait to make love to you tonight." Wiggling her eyebrows, she slams that notion home.

I huff an amused chuckle. "As much as I'm always down for that, we both know you're going to be asleep with drool leaking out of your mouth as soon as we're in the car."

She feigns an offended gasp. "Ah! Lies."

"Sure, angel." I blink my eyes in reassurance, and I never once stop smiling.

Once the song finishes, I leave her there to go grab both of us some drinks. A Scotch for me and a glass of water for her. She desperately needs it.

I wait for the bartender to get them ready, leaning on the side of the bar as I watch her from across the large venue, still bouncing around like a ball of energy.

I sigh contently. I'm a lucky man.

Once afraid I'd lose everything, I turned out to gain everything. Life with her by my side is something I never deemed possible for a man like me. To be with someone who understands me, who sees the dark parts and loves them with everything she's got. Someone who has the ability to make me feel . She's the only one who can and the only one who ever will. That's something I'll never let go.

There are some demons that still haunt me sometimes, but she's always eager to help me fight them. Losing my childhood friend twice was not something I ever saw coming, let alone it being by my hands. It's something I still relive in my darkest hours, but waking up next to Daisy somehow makes it all okay. There's never been one shred of regret about killing Rosemary to save her.

We're both thriving. I'm at the top of my game with my art, and she's on her way to great success all the same. It has been a privilege to see her grow over the years, to be the one to teach her and help her become the best artist she could be.

I can't take too much credit, though. Art is in her blood.

Whereas I have made sculpture my main focus, she's also gone further into painting. She goes with the flow. Some months, all she does is paint. Others, she barely even touches a brush as she dives fully into her sculpting capabilities.

Going with the flow . If that's not an excellent way to sum up her personality, I don't know what is.

The bartender sets the drinks down on the counter and I thank him. A throat is cleared beside me and I look up to find Daisy's father, Dubh. Wearing a nice gray suit with a cigarette between his lips, he's looking like your typical Hollywood gangster.

I tip up my chin. "Hey, man."

He nods back. "They serve good whisky here?"

"Yeah." I hand him mine before I order another one.

We lean on the bar with our elbows as we watch the dancefloor. Daisy is dancing with her mother now and we both look contently at our wives with the same amount of adoration.

"We're not getting any sleep tonight, are we?" he asks. "Gonna spend all night holding their hair above the toilet."

"I'm afraid so."

It's quiet for a beat before we both burst out laughing and he pats me on the shoulder. Over the years, it's obvious to see that I've grown on him. We have a mutual respect, and though it took a long time to show him that I'm the right fit for his daughter, I'm happy that I was able to convince him in the end.

Downing the glass of whisky, he sets it down on the counter before he cracks his neck. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to dance with my wife."

Lucille practically jumps up in his arms as she sees him coming. Daisy's uncles―Abel and Stefano―appear on the dancefloor as well and they take turns in dancing with her.

When the night ends and we're on the way home, the following happens exactly as I predicted. Daisy passes out in the passenger seat and doesn't wake until she's so sick she has to puke her guts out. I tuck her into bed after she's emptied her stomach and make my way downstairs to Narnia.

The kills done by Rosemary were ruled as copycat murders by the authorities, so they're no longer attached to my name.

Inside the hidden room, I turn on the light as all my masks appear before me, safely displayed behind the thick glass of the display closet.

Each year on June 19 th , I still turn into the Sculptor. Fifteen kills and fifteen masks.

And each year, my beautiful wife waits excitedly on the sofa for me to come home and tell her all about it, with Luna on her lap. And the next day, we'll reenact it as I fuck her into oblivion.

What a precious life it is with my little nymph by my side.