Vanity Kills by Erica Summers

Author:Erica Summers [Erica Summers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rusty Ogre Publishing
Published: 2024-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

43

Alan stands against a tree on the sprawling back lawn near the water’s edge, comforted by the shadows of the southern night. Lightning crackles through the clouds overhead, but no rain falls through the steamy fog of oppressive heat lingering across the bayou. The booze is hitting his empty stomach and he feels his body growing to match the stove-like temperatures of the summer night. He relaxes into the shadows, chugging greedily from the bottle of tequila in his hand. He enjoys how the inebriation seems to silence the thoughts in his head, rushing and swirling anxiously, all the time. Despite not doing anything strenuous all day, he feels exhausted. The mental toll the last few days have taken on him weigh heavily on his conscience. He’s replayed the hallucination and the attack in his mind a thousand times.

It all seemed so real… until it didn’t.

He was amazed with his own strength, remembering the way Chase’s face bled. Rivulets of crimson streaming down the curves and features of his frightened face. Features that were flawless until his balled fist met flesh. He found something strangely erotic about the marring, finding a sick pleasure in transforming something so perfect into flayed flesh and twisted bone. It was similar to the feeling he got when he carved his own…

Footsteps approach in the grass, preceded by the weak glow of a hanging lantern.

He hopes to himself that it’s Chase. He’s eager for a chance to explain. Eager to apologize again.

Eager just to be around him for any reason.

To his delight, though he’d never show it, Chase appears, waltzing up to a lawn chair.

As he goes to sit in it, he spins, notices Alan, and groans a terrified, “woah,” while clutching his heart. He stands fully, still clutching at his shirt. “Jesus, I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry.” Alan breathes after a painful swig of cheap liquor.

“You’re just standing out here in the dark? No flashlight or anything?” Chase’s tone is almost accusatory, angry.

“Easier to see the lightning when its full dark.” Alan points up at the roiling sky with the half-filled bottle, and instead of looking where he’s motioning, Chase notices the bottle instead.

“Holdin’ out on us?” He points to the bottle and Alan laughs a little with an inebriated sneer.

“Mick gave it to me. Said he didn’t need it for that ho’ any more, whatever that means.”

Silence.

“Want some?” Alan offers the container up and Chase approaches with hesitation. “You don’t mind?”

“What? Like I’m gonna drink the whole bottle by myself?” Alan scoffs.

Chase doesn’t think it’s that far-fetched. He wouldn’t put anything past the guy. He’s a wild card, and not the fun kind, he thinks.

“It’s a liquid olive branch.” Alan approaches, leading with the bottle. Chase takes it, suspicious. “You mind if I…?” He points to the lounge chair right beside the one Chase was about to sit in.

“Free country. At least, last I checked,” Chase says, his anger biting.

Alan takes a seat, the back of his bare thighs already sticking to the plastic with a dew of July sweat.

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