Murder of Crows

Chapter 13; Here Lies...

   Murder of Crows

   William sat with his hands on the wheel, looking out blankly at Y/N's home. He glanced down at the hand he used to enter the other man's mouth moments ago. He furrowed his brow, and in his mind, he wondered, 'What is wrong with me?'
     His stomach felt heavy in its place, he was shocked. He felt repulsed, but not by what he had done. He was shocked by his lack of regret. He regretted none of it. He didn't regret the gifts, the manipulation, exploring Y/N's mouth with his fingers; or the way he tasted so good on him... he snapped at himself, getting lost in thought.
    He had let himself go too far. Not only had he exposed his desires so irrationally, but he had grown a soft spot.
    He slammed his forehead against the wheel for the fifth time, accidentally miscalculating and erupting a sharp 'beep' from the car.
    "SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!" A thick British accent spit from the mouth of an older man yelling out his window a house down. William tensed up his shoulders, turned up the music, and finally drove off.


    You awoke with a start. 'Where the hell am I?!' You thought before looking around my very recognizable room. You sighed in relief, only to be left speechless once more. 'Wait... how did I get here? William?'  Your thoughts fluttered to last night. 'Oh, gosh.'
    Mixed with nervousness and alcohol, you had no idea how much you said. You checked the time on your alarm clock.10 A.M. Without thinking it over much, you flung yourself out of bed and searched around for your phone. Finding Williams' note stored somewhere in your jacket pocket you dialed in his number.
    "Hello? Who's this?" A static-y version of Williams' voice flowed out the speaker, not an ounce of tiredness in it.
    "Hello, it's Y/N. I'm so sorry to disturb you this early- late?- I just... wanted to apologize for last night, I'm sorry if I said something embarrassing- that was just really... irresponsible of me-"
    "No, no, dear, it's okay. I really enjoyed last night. And no, you didn't say anything embarrassing. If it stresses you out that much, I can tell you exactly what you said."

    William, to calm you down, proceeded with a list of things you had conversed over the evening. What he thought you wouldn't remember, at least. He said you had talked about your family. The shops they owned, where you used to live and work, how you came to be in Hurricane. When he mentioned that part, your heart sank, afraid of what he thought about your failing career, him as a businessman.
    He continued, narrating your tellings of moving out of your parents home. His tone stayed positive until he got to a deeper part of your conversation. It turns out you had vented to him over your struggles in response to the potential stalker, night shift dilemma, and the incident with Susie. You had told him of the overbearing emotions you were keeping hidden. 

    "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry, that was really uncalled for."
    "You're alright. It shows me you trust me." You paused, even lowering the phone from your ear a little. 'What an odd way to phrase it.'
    "Yeah... again, thank you so much. For everything. Dinner, dealing with me, taking me home..."
     "No need to thank me, darling." You could hear him smile. "Now, I have to deal with some things. Can I call you later, perhaps?" 'He wants to call me later?!'
     "Yeah! I mean, yeah, that's fine!" You repeated, a little embarrassed at your excitement.
     "Lovely. I'll see you, love."

     Afton placed back the phone once you hung up, the starstruck smile melting off his face as soon as it came.
     "Now, where were we?" He had turned to stare at the squirming person tied to a chair.
     "You thought you could give me this shit and get away? You overestimate yourself." He picked up one of his smaller knives, sharpening it mockingly as he approached. " 'You're a dead man, Afton'," He quoted them back. "Last words?" He untied the rag that kept the other shut up.
    "Fuck yourself, Afton." They spat in the man's face, a thick and long trail of saliva rolling from the center of Williams forehead.
    "Hm, good aim."
    Without much warning, Afton slashed at both carotid arteries on the other's neck, quickly grabbing a large bucket and placing it right on their hostage's lap, tall enough to reach their neck and collect the streams of blood.
     As much as he'd love to torture the fight out of them, William really did have things to take care of. He climbed up the basement stairs, resuming his duties in the empty house.

     "Have you noticed any progression, Mr. Afton?" It was four o' clock. William was sitting before his therapist. His ex-wife had pleaded for him to go when they had gotten a divorce. What came from it was a spirling list of mental health disorders and illnesses that sent him cycling through different specialists and prescriptions.
     "I feel I have." The woman nodded, pleased. He continued, "Though my anger levels haven't changed, I feel my control has gotten better." He thought back to the events earlier that day. He thought he really did use a lot of restraint to keep the walls of his basement red. So, yes,
     "I have noticed progression. I like this method." He referenced back to their last visit. The lady had given him a strategy for keeping his cool. And it was working.

     He couldn't stop thinking about the body in his basement. He wondered if it had bled out entirely yet. He thought in silence of the next course of action.
     "Mr. Afton?" His therapist's voice snapped him out of his trance. He raised his eyebrows curiously.
     "Hm?"

      As soon as he had finished putting away groceries and washing dishes, William hurried over to his home phone and dialed Y'N's number. The phone rang a few times.
     "Hello?" Y/N picked up.
     "Good evening, Y/N."
     "Ah, William! Nice to hear from you, how are you?" William leaned against the wall, fiddling with the cord.
     "I'm quite well, thank you. How about you?"
     "A bit bored, not gonna lie. I don't have much to do when I'm not working."

     The conversation carried on. William felt like a teenager again, lovesick and giddy. Their time was once again brief, but William hoped they had more time to talk over a date some other time.
     He smiled at the thought of holding your hand again, having you just for him for an hour to two. Being... wait. His eyes snapped open and he sat up in a panic.

     He had forgotten about the little issue dead in his basement.

1150 Words,
Published on 3.6.23