Morsel

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

In the evening, I park down the street and walk through the neighborhood to Mona’s house. I think about hiding in her backyard again, but that seems stupid. I don’t want to scare her. I’m not a stalker, and I’m definitely not a threat—not like she probably thinks—but I do want to apologize and give her the one-time-use camera. It was a gift, after all. It’d be wasted on me.

As I near the house, I run a hand over my face. Maybe I lied. Maybe I do want more than to apologize; maybe I also want to confront her for treating me like shit the other night and for calling me a rapist.

I also want to make things right. It’s what I’m supposed to do.

When I finally get to her house, there are two cars in the driveway: Artemis’s electric vehicle and another similar car.

My shoulders stiffen; if there are people here, then there’s only so much I can say. I don’t let it stop me though; I keep going up the driveway. This doesn’t have to be more than a conversation. We can have make-up sex later.

I knock.

She doesn’t answer.

I knock again, this time harder, and I don’t stop banging until the door swings open.

Artemis stands in front of me. A loose shirt hangs on his body, but his usual jacket is missing. He shifts his weight to the side. There’s a comfort to his stance, like he belongs here. Like this is his house.

Are they actually married, then? How could I have missed that? How could I have been so stupid this entire time?

No, no, no. I’m not stupid.

She fucking tricked me…for her art.

“What do you want?” Artemis asks.

He’s not a threat, I remind myself. And he’s not her husband. He’s probably just fucking Mona, and they have some sort of artistic pact to use the same last name together. Milk is a stage surname. A brand they’ve created for their mutual benefit.

And he’s not a fucking threat.

I scratch the back of my neck, doing my best to appear casual.

“Hey, Artemis,” I say. I lift the camera. “I was just stopping by. Mona forgot this, and I need to talk to her?—”

“She’s not home right now.”

Laughter echoes through the house. I lean to the side, looking around Artemis. Two people—a man with a shaved head and a woman with brown hair—sit close to one another, facing someone on the opposite side of a coffee table.

Someone. A person I can’t see.

I know it’s her.

Mona is here.

I pinch my lips together. Artemis is more likely to give me what I want if he thinks I’m harmless. I force the tension out of my posture and slump my shoulders.

“When will she be back?” I ask quietly.

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you house sitting for her or something?” I ask, frustration leaking into my tone. I release a breath forcefully. “Are you having a threesome in her bed?”

“It’s none of your business, is it?” Artemis says, his mouth tight. He presses forward into my space. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I need to fucking talk to her, all right?” I snap. I grip the camera. My guts are so twisted, I want to smash the fucking thing into his skull to see what the pretty boy does. “After what we’ve been through, I think I deserve a conversation with her.”

Artemis runs a hand over his face. “First, you broke Lexi’s phone, and now you’re acting like you’re going to break Mona’s camera too.”

I squint my eyes. Lexi? Is that the girl who was recording me at the processing plant?

“I knew this wasn’t a good idea,” Artemis says. “I told Mona it was dangerous working with someone like you. I even told Desire to find justice another way, but Mona kept pushing her, and you are obsessed.” His shoulders twitch with discomfort. “You and Mona are done. You got that? You were only an art project to her. My wife wants nothing to do with you anymore.”

Wife? So it’s true then. The rejection is a fire burning through every cell in my body.

She sucked my dick in the theater like she was hungry for it.

She invited me over for a threesome.

She even gave me her fingertips and toes like she was desperate for me to have her.

She acted like she needed me to understand her.

She didn’t tell me she’s married.

How can she be married to someone like him?

How can she ignore me when I’ve done so much for her?

The couple from the processing plant glance toward the front door, and Artemis steps in front of me so I can’t see inside the house anymore. I can feel it in my bones though: Mona is in the house, chatting with her house guests, pretending like I’m a thing from her past. Like I don’t actually exist. The bitch ran away from me to be with her wimpy husband, and now I’m the whiny little boy she can’t seem to get rid of.

I’m being ignored. Neglected. Abandoned. I’d rather she stab my chest than refuse to talk to me.

The rejection hurts.

“Have a good night, Kent,” Artemis says. “Be careful out there.”

I open my mouth to retort, but the door slams shut, and the porch light goes out, leaving me alone in the darkness. I stand there for a while, waiting for Mona to appear. To check and see if I’m still there. To explain that Artemis was joking. To take it all back.

None of that happens.

Eventually, I walk back to my van. Instead of going straight home, I drive past the processing plant to see who is working.

Jerry’s car is parked outside.

If the supervisor is off duty, Jerry will let me in. With a man of Artemis’s size, I can easily fit him into one of the furnaces, and then his meat won’t be wasted. It will be fuel for the fire. I can live with that.

I’m not a killer though. Incinerating Artemis’s body is only a fantasy. I think about things a lot, but I’d never do something like that on purpose. With my mother, it was an accident.

And I really hope another accident like that doesn’t happen again.