A Hand in Hell

Chapter 6

"Such a troublesome little girl," I muttered to myself as I clunked a glass tumbler down on the solid wood counter top. "Interrupting my playtime, getting herself shot, passing out and making me hurry through my dinner…" I couldn't believe I'd actually inconvenienced myself for her sake. I couldn't believe I'd actually wanted to save her life. "But I only did it to extend my playtime with her," I said as I uncapped a bottle of bourbon and filled the glass half full. "A dead pet isn't a very fun pet, to be quite honest. I may be a bit off my rocker, but necrophilia just ain't on the table." I screwed the lid back onto the bottle and dropped it to the counter with a thunk, then picked up the tumbler and watched the liquid as I swirled it at the bottom of the glass. "Then again," I mumbled thoughtfully, "you can't knock it 'til you've tried it."

I took a swig of my drink and turned to put my back to the counter, leaning against it as I glanced at the clock that ticked away at me from the opposite wall. 5:27. She'd been out for hours. What if she was dead, anyway? What if I'd wasted all that energy healing her and left behind perfectly good corpses for nothing?

I will find her in Hell and tear her limb from limb, that's what, I thought, and that cheered me right up.

I took another sip of my bourbon, and I swallowed it quickly at the sound of a gently jingling bell. "Fucking finally!" I cried, then downed the rest of my drink, slammed the glass down on the counter, and crossed the room to the open basement door.

When Dexter came into view, strapped securely to the table and already glaring at me, I grinned excitedly. "It's good to see that you're alive," I told her as I made my way to the table, stopping by her legs to give the faint gray mark on her thigh a light poke. "I wasn't sure if I'd gotten to you in time. I thought you might've bled to death."

"If you would've just paid attention to me when I yelled, 'I'm bleeding to death,' you wouldn't have had to worry about that," she said bitterly, and I felt my eyebrows take a trip up my forehead as I met her stern gaze.

"Well, aren't we cranky," I teased. "I'd think you'd be a little nicer to the girl who saved your life."

"I wouldn't even have gotten shot if you hadn't been there," she sneered.

"No, you wouldn't even have gotten shot if you'd had the sense to keep your mouth shut like I'd told you," I countered flatly. "Don't blame me for your own stupidity." She pursed her lips and turned her gaze to the ceiling, and I sighed. "What is this really about? I feel like there has to be more of a cause for this kind of anger than a mere gunshot wound."

"You told her I wanted her dead," she answered, her voice cracking with some unidentifiable emotion. "Her last memory of me will be of me wanting her dead."

I shrugged. "You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to yell, 'You said you'd kill her fast.' I just thought I'd play with what I was given."

She finally turned to me, her glare fierce for someone strapped to a table. "Play? Is that what that was? You killed my friend right in front of me, and you let her die thinking I was the one who wanted her gone. That is not 'playing.'"

"It is to me," I said nonchalantly, giving her nose a light poke that only turned up the burner on the fire in her eyes. "What's the big deal, anyway? She's dead now. You don't have to deal with her anymore."

"But there's an afterlife, isn't there?" she snapped. "A Heaven and a Hell? Wherever she is, she thinks that her best friend wanted her dead — she thinks that I wanted her dead. And the fact that she's dead is a big deal in itself, you insensitive bitch!" she shrieked, and I marveled at the sudden emotional leap, my eyebrows raising once more. "How can you just stand there and act like you didn't take an innocent person's life?" Tears welled in her eyes now, and I sighed inwardly, already preparing to get the tissues. "How can you just pretend that there isn't a problem here?"