Chapter 20

ChapterTwenty

Clyde

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benatar

It was an exquisite thing, watching the love of my life covered in the blood of her victims. Tonight, she really let go. She gave it all her wicked best, and I could not have been prouder of the game we played. Though sick and twisted, this game of dead, dead, fucker really got my dick hard.

Tonight, she took her role and made it her bitch. Through every kill, she really made me believe in this psycho game we played.

I really believed she was innocent right up until the moment she let go and slaughtered the bitch who hurt her child.

You see, we were both dead.

Gunned down in our prime, oh so many years ago.

The injustice, damn that bitch stung.

Then, we upped our game. The only gang we needed was one of two. Just me and my Bonnie. The need for violence only grew and we built a good gig from the afterlife.

This?

Tonight?

Well, this was all just our foreplay, baby.

Every year, on All Hallows’ Eve, we rise upon the witching hour.

We came back to earth and we slaughtered like a couple in love should and every damn year, we pretended to be somebody we were not.

This year, Bon picked the sweet little author all ripe and ready for the big bad serial killer to come and corrupt her. The woman she played? Was alive and out there somewhere, writing all of her research down in some novel. We pottered around her house earlier tonight, but of course, she couldn’t see us.

Because we never wanted her to.

Did you notice that part?

All of the little breadcrumbs we left you on our sick adventure.

There was a reason confusion was the first thing Dale felt and not horror.

Me?

Well, I played the man called Blake. Dug the name. But the case and the cop? That was all real. The serial killer paid us a pretty penny in Hell’s fire to avenge his murder back down in Hell, so we did.

Getting to be anybody we choose to be, and at the end of the night, still returned back to each other’s arms, oh... I just shuddered. It was a beautiful thing of utter carnage.

We walked through the graveyard, my bare toes sunk into the soil as I held her delicate hand in mine, “Well, love? Does this year outshine all of the others?” I asked as I turned my gaze to her stunning features.

“Oh, Clyde. This year is definitely one of the best, it was so sexy how you were all domineering and passionate. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard, I could feel actual life coursing back through me. It sure was a feeling to thrive on,” she replied with a wicked smirk and a sexy as the devil’s mistress southern accent.

I growled as I pulled her into my arms.

“Any ideas who you want to be next year, darling?” I questioned as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, then caressed her smooth cheek.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she thought it over. “Well that depends on who my kill will be, doesn’t it? You know, I’ve never understood why any of the others never want to come back to earth on Halloween.”

“They enjoy it too much in Hell, they don’t have to feel anything other than content. Human emotion, it’s icky, and once you die and that shit fades away, why the hell would you want to live through it again? Lucky for us, it never makes our return boring.” I chuckled, as I placed a tender kiss on her thick lips.

Together, hand in hand, we walked under the willow tree and back into the grave.

“Until next year, love.”