My Beautiful Freedom (The Beautiful Nothing Novella Series Book 3) by Alisha Cole

Author:Alisha Cole [Cole, Alisha]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Alisha Cole
Published: 2016-04-09T04:00:00+00:00

Never thought I’d be a serial killer, but here I am. Every man I kill gives me back a little ray of light back into my life that was taken from me. I shove the knife back in my boot and turn to leave him there lifeless and a problem. I can’t leave him in a public park, I’m going to have to bury him. I get back in his truck and drive to buy a shovel. His phone buzzes repeatedly in the cup holder and I’m tempted to answer it. When I pull in the hardware store parking lot, I reach for it and open the messages. Most of them are from the ugly guy, Slim, and one of his messages actually asks if he is fucking me. Gross. I throw the phone in the floorboard and make my way inside, only realizing that I can’t go in there dressed like a bloody, murderous hooker. Damn it. Where am I going to find a shovel at eleven at night, dressed like this? Then it hits me, someone’s backyard might be a good place to start looking.

I find a nice yarded area and look around not finding anything. I check a few more, and then give up. I decide to drive back to the park and cross my fingers that they have some kind of shack for the park tools. I was right and run to it. I have to be quick or my chances of getting caught become higher. I get a shovel and a giant black trash bag made for leaves and sneak back in the woods to bury the body. I lift his body and almost lose my footing on the rocks, and fall anyway. This is a lot harder than the first one. He’s a lot heavier, and I’m running out of strength fast. I push him off my lap and stand back up. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. Thinking of how Jake’s blood will look when it covers my hands gives me the boost I need to pull his body up and pull the bag over his head and chest. The easy part is his feet and legs.

Once I get him in the bag, I start digging the hole. It takes hours for me to have it deep enough to push the body in. But I finally do, and then I fill it in. I pat down the rest of the dirt and drop to the ground, heaving and sweating. When my chest starts hiccupping and my eyes feel wet, I reach up and wipe it away. There’s no reason to mourn this loss. Why put myself through more torment? I won’t cry for anyone, they don’t deserve my tears. I leave him in the ground without saying goodbye. When I pull up near the motel, I watch for any sign of people before I get out. I climb in the back seat looking for my backpack. I don’t know if this is the same SUV or not.

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