Own Me

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A.N. Only a two chapters left, after this one. I've linked an image of the cliffs that feature all over this series cos why the fuck not. I'm feeling shitty after my aunt died on Tuesday but at least Darby finally finds out... THE TRUTH!!! Xoxo, Clay.

♔ Chapter Twenty-Eight ♔

I bit my lip.

"What have you done?" I asked, my voice croaking. There was something about seeing him standing there, the way that he did, swaggering around like he owned the place, that always drew him to me.

The way he was so sure of himself, more than anything else. The way he held himself, the way his face prowled the room, the way his eyes sizzled into your soul. It was the overpowering sensation of being controlled, of being hurt, dominated, destroyed - in the sexiest way possible. That was what Isaac gave to me, a kind of effortless release or certainty, a sense of freedom in a world surrounded by vacant bodies and the empty shells of people. Nothing mattered but the two of us, floating in a nondescript, nonexistent space.

"It wasn't my fault," Isaac admitted, dropping the shovel he held in his hands. "No, I swear, it just happened. I didn't plan it."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Jill spat.

"Wait, why are you guys here, though?" He was smiling, I realised, his face half-hidden in the shadows of the hallway he stood in. He knew exactly why we were here. "To kill him yourselves?"

His cold eyes glittered with some kind of sycophantic glow. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but the sight of him alone, standing there, bloodied and murderous, was making me hard in my jeans. I shuffled in my place, uncomfortable standing there, in that room, right beside the body soaking next to me.

"How did it happen, then?" Jill asked, completely ignoring his question.

"He called me, yesterday. Said he had something to show me," Isaac started. We stood by his father's dead body, lying in the tub, and listened. "When I got here, he was fixated, like he was going mad."

"With guilt, no doubt," Jill butted in.

"No, like he'd gone totally insane. He was mumbling about making me follow in his footsteps, showed me that room, down the hall. Said it was his pride, his joy. The pictures of me, when I was growing up, plastered next to all of the other kids he'd fucked up. I felt sick. Then I saw something, in the corner. A face I recognised. Your face, Darby. That was when it hit. I just couldn't handle it. I couldn't bare the thought of him touching you, hurting you, like he hurt me. I played along with him, and when he wasn't expecting it, I hit him over the head with a lamp. He dropped to the floor."

"And?" Jill asked.

"I tied him up, filled the tub with freezing cold water and dragged him into it. Let him lie there. Just as he was waking up, I slit his wrists. Slowly. Soon, the whole tub was diluted with his blood. He was groggy, waking up, but he couldn't do much. I watched the life seep out of him, and I won't lie to you and say it didn't feel good."

It was the smile that finally got to me. A twitching, devilish grin that sprinkled over his face and sent dimples running along the sides of his mouth. I moved towards him, wanting to take his hands in mine, to feel the warmth of his skin touching mine, more than anything else. I wanted to feel what it was like to be truly free with him.

"Isaac," I said, as I pushed myself out into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind me. We stood there, in the total darkness of the corridor, with only the lamp-post lights from outside peaking through. I saw the outlines of his face, of his body amidst the black, I felt his hands touch me at the shoulders, his fingers trickle along the skin of my neck and up into my hair. We didn't say much else to each-other, after that. His hands yanked at my hair, throwing me against the nearest wall. I heard myself grunt, from the force of it, but smiled, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him onto me.