Squeak

The Cover Up

Erik

"I-I-I didn't mean to kill him!" Jezebel cried in distress. "He grabbed me, and I-"

"Pipe down, Squeak," I demanded, taking a knee. I felt for a pulse and kissed my teeth in displeasure when I felt a weakened pulse thrum against my fingers. "He's not dead. He just looks dead. What are you doing?"

"I'm calling 9-1-1. What does it look like I'm doing?" Jezebel asked in a panic.

"Give me the phone. I'll call. Knowing you, you'd sing like a fucking canary and find yourself sitting right next to my father."

"I have to tell the truth. He was hurting me, and I pushed him."

"Let me let you in on a little secret, Squeak. The world isn't designed to sway in women's favor. If you start mouthing off about all the abuse and the fighting, then that'll work against you. You'll end up on Snapped!."

"How?"

"It'll give them a motive. More likely than not, they'll believe this wasn't an accident. Get dressed in one of your dresses and put on another turtleneck to hide the bruises on your neck. Make sure you wear your stockings. The more innocent you look, the better."

"What are we going to tell the police?"

"We were in your bedroom watching a movie when we heard your dad yelp, followed by a loud crash. I went to check things out and found him. We immediately called 9-1-1 for assistance."

"What if my dad wakes up and tells them what really happened?"

"Squeak, this man looks like roadkill. He won't be talking soon. Even if he does start talking, he's not going to tell them a woman almost took him out. The misogyny running through his blood will force him to take that to the grave." Jezebel nodded in understanding before taking off to her bedroom. I peered at Jezebel's...handiwork. I knew there was a reason I was attracted to her. Under all that godliness was a little bit of darkness. Pastor Holmes' groaning reminded me that I should be calling emergency services.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"W-we need an ambulance. Please send an ambulance!" I exclaimed, making sure my words were panicked yet believable.

"Is someone hurt?"

"Y-yes. It's my girlfriend's father. He fell down the stairs."

"Your girlfriend's father fell down the stairs? What is your name, young man?"

"Erik...Erik King."

"Thank you, Mr. King. What is the address?" I quickly provided the address and confirmed my phone number before answering more questions. "Were you there when he fell down the stairs?"

"No, I was in my girlfriend's room watching a movie with her. I heard him scream, followed by some loud noises. I checked on him, and he was at the bottom of the stairs."

"Is the victim still conscious? You haven't tried to move him, right?"

"I heard him groaning before I called. No, I haven't tried to move him. Should I? I didn't want to aggravate his injuries."

"No, no. You did the right thing. Emergency services should be there shortly."

I hung up and stared down at the sorry excuse of a man before lowering myself down to his level on my hands and knees.

"Pastor Holmes, can you hear me?" I received another groan in response. "I just want to let you know that I'll take exceptional care of Jezebel while you're out of commission. I can't wait. I'll do all the things to her you wished you could. I already had a little taste this afternoon. Jezebel's body is about to become my playground, and there's nothing you can do about it. I own her, you piece of shit."