Outlawry

Chapter 39 - Luther//Backyard Cemetery

Gomez got into the car and started it. I remained in the back seat with my head bowed, arms crossed and hood up. "What did you get in there?" I asked as he drove off.

"Some spiderweb mesh and green colored porch lights," he answered. "Ava was in there."

My head shot up. "Ava?" I asked. "Why? What was she doing?"

"Shopping for a costume, obviously. Although, it didn't really look like she was shopping. She was just sitting there with her costume in hand. She must've been waiting for someone or something."

"What?" I asked dryly. "Like who?"

Gomez rolled his eyes. "I don't know, man. She was by herself."

"Why didn't you let me see her?"

He laughed in sarcasm. "I think that you can figure that one out on your own, Lex."

"Don't call me that..." I seethed almost silently through my teeth.

We arrived back at his house. He hurried me out of the car and locked the front door behind us once we came inside. He set his plastic bag of decorations on the table. I sat down on one of the uncomfortable sofas in his living room. He sat at one across from me and rested his legs onto the coffee table in between the two of us.

"Gomez," I began. He looked up at me. "What ever happened to Taco?"

He sighed and shifted his eyes away from mine. "Ariana said he was arrested. It wouldn't be the first time. He'll get out though. The penitentiaries there are really terrible."

I nodded. "Will he try to find you?"

"I have no doubt of it. But it probably won't happen for a while, so until then I'm trying not to worry about it."

"He is your biological father though, correct?" I inquired.

He looked back towards me. "Um, yes...? Why do you ask, muchacho?"

I sighed. "Well, you're Brazilian, but he didn't look South American at all."

He smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah, well. That's because he's not. He's Mexican." I furrowed my brows. Seeing my confused look, he went on to explain. "My mother was from Brazil. Her family migrated to the states when she was young, but got stuck there in the ghetto. My father, Antonio, offered her safety from the streets. But of course with special...caveats." I wrinkled my nose. "One day, she had robbed him of his special savings and threatened to leave him. Before she could do anything, he shot her before my eyes. I was 18 at the time. Before I could get to Ariana and Abuelo to take them with me, he had already hidden them from me. So, I came here. A small, quiet town in the middle of Idaho. And I built up the marijuana business here, which is then where I met your parents, the meth cookers."

I looked down and swallowed. "But no one makes meth here any more."

He nodded. "And that's why it was selfish of you to kill them. Luther, from someone who has a dead mother and a tyrant father, it can seem quite horrifying to me that you killed your parents."

I gulped. For the first time in my life, I had a lump of guilt form inside of my throat. "Gomez..." I began. "Has anyone been surveilling my house lately?"

He shook his head. "No, not that I know of." He lifted a brow. "Why?"

"There's something that I would like to show you."

He furrowed his brows and turned his head slightly. "Uh...okay..."

Later that night, we walked stealthily over to my old home. "Are we going in through the front?" Gomez asked me.

I shook my head. "No. I have nothing from inside to show you."

"Then what is it that you brought me here for?" He lowered his gaze. "You're not going to try to kill me, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No! Follow me."

I lead him around to my back yard. The two of us sat down on what was remaining of the porch, surrounded by weeds and cracked cement. He let out a sigh and looked at me. "What are we doing here, man?"

"Gomez, I want to ask you something."

"Anything, Lex."

"Can you stop calling me Lex?"

He let his head bob down. "That's why you brought me here?" I gave him a glare. "Never mind. Seriously, what is it?"

"Why do I kill people?"

He furrowed his brows and ran his hand across his head. "What? That question doesn't make any sense. You're the only one who knows why you would murder somebody."

I nodded and looked back toward my graveyard of a lawn. "I just...after I kill somebody, I never really know why I did it. With my parents, it was because they didn't love me. I had a motive. But, for most everyone else, I did it purely for no reason."

"What about rape?" he asked. "Why did you rape people?"

I shrugged. "It was never for sexual pleasure. Rather, it brought me some peace of mind."

"Then, is that the same sensation that murder brought to you?"

I tilted my head and rested it in my hand. "I don't know." I let out a sigh. "I don't believe in man, god nor devil. I hate the whole damned human race, including myself...I preyed upon the weak, the harmless and the unsuspecting. This lesson I was taught by others: Might makes right."

"Might makes right?" Gomez repeated. "What exactly does that mean?"

I looked up into the dark, cloudy sky. "It means, that no matter how superior in looks, academics or athletics you may be to me, if I outrank you in strength and charisma, that I have the right to, and probably will kill you. Because, that is my right. That is..." I paused, for I had never said the words out loud. "Perfection."

"Perfection..." Gomez breathed. "I don't exactly see how that can be perfection, Luther. There is no such thing. Nothing, and no one in this world is perfect." He looked down and started fidgeting. "Um...what-what else made you want to kill? Was it the way that you killed?"

I shrugged. "I suppose."

"What is your favorite part of a kill?"

I laughed. "The whole thing - the cries, the blood, the agony - gave me relaxation and a certain pleasure."

"And let me guess, Ava gives you all of those things without killing her?" I nodded. "Then you have to stop this. For her." He looked up at me. "So, why exactly is it that you brought me here?"

I stood up and walked to the center of the dirt yard. "Come here."

He sighed, got up and walked over to me. "What is it?"

"Look down." Gomez looked down and gasped.

"Are those...?"

"Yes." I finished. "My victims bones. I make trophies of their spines."

I stared at Gomez as he gawked at the bones in horror. Seeing that look of true and utter terror on his face brought a warm calm over me. And suddenly, I was reminded all over again of why I enjoyed killing so much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So, yes, I know that this chapter was short, and I know I haven't updated in a few days. I've been so busy with going all over the state and trying to edit this book and blah blah blah.

My books keep getting rejected for getting featured and it's making me depressed. Help me

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