Marrow

by Trisha Wolfe

anyone who dreamt of someone who would burn the world for them, who loved the villain, who rooted for the dark souls in their fairy tales…

I am the sun whose light reflects on his cold, remote mask. And I am the celestial fire that will destroy him.

What could’ve happened to a girl like Kyrie to turn her into a killer? Women serial killers are a rare breed, rarer even than duos.

“You’re not a girl,” I say, my tone bordering on lethal. “You’re an irritating inconvenience that is begging to have her ass reddened.” Her pupils dilate. “And don’t you just hate how much that excites you.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll sew it in my initials?” I pause a beat. “I am now.”

This entire time, she wasn’t dead. She’s not the dead one at all. She’s been what’s sustained me here. She’s the marrow. She’s my marrow. Kyrie didn’t start as a killer—she was made. And I helped make her.

His kiss is seared deep into my marrow. He claimed my mouth like a man starved of light and hope. His touch was a reverential progression of worship across my flesh and bone.

“Lille mejer,” Jack whispers into my ear. My eyes drift closed. My head tilts to the side as his lips graze the shell of my ear. Two little words and I don’t even know what they mean, but they’re like a spell, an elixir that drowns me. “I’m not here to claim anyone but you.”

“Your sounds are mine,” Jack hisses,

“But if you’ll excuse the pun, I draw the line at you thinking I’d ever let you touch her.”

And we lay on the bloody tiles for a long while, as silent as the body in our midst, three souls claimed on the twenty-fifth floor.

But the decisive difference is that I wouldn’t just kill for Kyrie—I would give my life. Hell, I’d even let her take it.

“If he does, I’ll fucking flay the skin from his face and feed it to him,” Jack says. “And they claim romance is dead.”

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. We both know that life doesn’t work that way,” Jack says, his eyes soldered to mine even though I keep my focus trained on his lips. I can feel his silver gaze, boring into my mind like screws. “But look around you, lille mejer. You are not unwanted. You are not alone. You are unique.” Jack bends his head until his eyes are level with mine and I have no choice but to meet their sharpened determination. “You are a bright and blinding light in the dark. Luminous. And I’m sorry I made you feel like anything less than that.”

“One day, lille mejer, I will stop underestimating your ability to turn anything to your favor.”

“You know how to make me fucking feral, petal.”

I’m not the one in control here. She owns me. Every fiber of my being, every cell coursing through my marrow, she is the one dominating me, and I’m simply the depraved monster subservient to her commands.

“Jeg vil være alt for dig, elskede,” he says, and then presses his lips to mine.

Tell me I’m the only one you want. The only one who can stand in your flame as you burn down the world.”

You gave me the chance to save myself. Whether you knew it or not, Jack, you became the scaffolding I rebuilt my life on.

Creatures designed like us were not meant to bask in the light for long. Where we lurk, the darkness always finds us. This is the design. Yet, with Kyrie, there are exceptions to the rule. She is my exception. She is my light. And I will forever protect her light against the darkness.