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deathtothesoul · 4 months ago

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Death to the Soul: Chapter 1

Ryane drove down the snowy highway in her tiny green sedan, angrily muttering to herself. She rubbed her back against the seat to try to get some relief from the itchy tag on her newly bought black dress. She turned onto the exit ramp and drove to the intersection. When the light turned green, she drove forward. Suddenly, she heard the squeal of out-of-control wheels. All she could see were two bright lights. There was a loud bang as her car was hit, crumpling her passenger side. The airbags deployed, hitting her in the face. Her arms and legs turned to jelly. She tried to catch her breath as she looked around, terrified.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?" someone asked, frantically knocking on the window.

She swept her hair from her eyes. A young man with a green trucker hat peered in at her. She took her seatbelt off and pushed her door open. "I think so," she stammered.

"Here, let me help you out," he said, offering his hand. His breath reeked of alcohol. He pulled her to her feet and backed her up against the car.

"Uh... listen, I'll pay for everything and even a little extra if we can work this out between us. I just can't let you call the cops. This isn't the first time…"

"Are you insane? You nearly killed me!" she sputtered angrily, reaching for her phone but he grabbed her wrist.

"Hey!" another voice called with a crisp English accent. "Is everything okay?"

Ryane tried to speak but the man hastily covered her mouth with his dirt-caked hand. “Everything’s fine!” he called.

"You need to step away from her," the other man said firmly. Ryane could hear his footsteps getting closer, and the man in the hat was swiftly yanked back.

Relief flooded her. She could now get a good look at her rescuer; a tall man who looked to be 23 with thick raven black hair to his shoulders, dark brows, wearing a long black coat. Ryane smiled shyly, seeing how attractive he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting himself between her and the man in the hat.

"I-I think so," she stammered, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"My name's Quinn," he said with a smile, extending a hand. She shook it.

"Ryane."

Quinn turned around to see the man in the hat strolling down the street in the other direction. "Call the police," he said, and walked after the man, quickly and quietly. He soon reached him, grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Get back there," he snarled.

"Look, I'm sorry but I can't go to prison again," he said, drawing a knife. He lunged for Quinn, but he missed. Quinn appeared behind him and easily knocked him unconscious.

"Okay. Thank you," Ryane said, hanging up the phone. She arched an eyebrow when she saw Quinn pulling the man along the ground like a corpse. "What did you do to him?" she asked, glancing at the motionless man. A feeling of uneasiness rushed through her, seeing the man unconscious.

"I just knocked him out. He's fine. Are they on their way?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She leaned against the side of the car. "Thank you," she said.

"Of course. Where were you headed?"

She paused, choosing her words carefully. "A family event of sorts."

"Sounds fun."

She laughed bitterly. "No, it won’t be. They're terrible people."

"Oh…" he said, confused.

A police car pulled up behind them, followed by an ambulance. A thin, lanky officer got out and walked over to them.

"Hi. My name is Officer Klein. Is anyone hurt?" he asked.

“Just him,” Ryane said, gesturing to the unconscious man.

Officer Klein motioned for a paramedic to come tend to him. “What happened?”

"That dick was drunk and crashed into me. Then he tried to prevent me from calling you!" Ryane snarled. “He said this wasn’t his first time.”

“Alright, I’m going to need more info. Were you also involved with the crash?” he asked, turning to Quinn.

"No. I was just a passerby. I saw it wasn't a good situation so I... helped out,” Quinn said.

Officer Klein arched an eyebrow. “And you decided to knock him out?”

“He pulled a knife on me."

Officer Klein turned to Ryane and raised an eyebrow. "He's telling the truth," she said.

He made a few scribbles on his notepad.

Ryane quietly stepped to the side and tried to call her friend Karen. No answer. She tried Clair and Becky, but there was no answer there either. She shook her head in disappointment. "Always there for me, my ass," she muttered under her breath. She glanced at the time. It was getting late.

"Is there any way we can make this go faster? I am on my way to my mother's funeral," Ryane said.

"Oh! Um... yeah. I’ll just need your driver’s licenses. And you’ll need to call a tow truck,” officer Klein said.

Ryane groaned and opened her mouth to speak but Quinn cut her off. “I can call the tow truck.”

She sighed and opened her car door. She reached for her purse. “Thanks. Do you need my card or something?” she asked, searching for her wallet.

“I’ll pay for it," he said, handing his license to Officer Klein.

“What? No! I can’t let you do that," she said flustered, still fumbling through her purse. A pile of old receipts and snack wrappers fell out.

“I’m not asking,” he said, stepping away to make the call.

Ryane muttered angrily to herself as she grabbed her wallet. She handed over her license.

"I'll get these back to you," Officer Klein said, waving the licenses. “In the meantime, you should get checked out.”

When Quinn was done, he walked over to Ryane by the ambulance. “How are you going to get to the service?" he asked, leaning on the ledge.

She shrugged. "I'll probably call an Uber or something."

“An Uber? It's not safe to just wait here on the street. Why don't I take you? My car's just over there." He flashed her an encouraging smile.

“What? Oh... you don’t have to do that,” she stammered.

They noticed that Officer Klein was already standing next to them with their documents.

“You’re good to go,” Officer Klein said. He returned their licenses and took their numbers down.

Quinn offered his hand to Ryane. She noticed an X burned into his palm. “What’s that from?” she asked.

“Just a small accident,” he said, quickly, locking eyes with her. Her mind suddenly began to fog over, and a blanket of calm descended upon her. She let him lead her to his black Cadillac and open the door for her. She paused and stared at the empty seat. She knew it usually wasn’t smart to get in a car with a stranger, but it was getting late, and he was her best option.

"Where to?" he asked, getting in on his side.

"Patterson Funeral Home," she said, settling into the seat and crossing her arms. She leaned against the window, watching the streetlights pass by. He noticed how the lights glinted off her deep brown eyes. The silence sliced through the air, keeping her body tense.

She was angry. She didn’t want to have to rely on this stranger to drive her to her mother’s funeral. She didn’t want to deal with insurance and getting her car fixed. She didn't want to deal with her family. She just wanted to go home and hide in a blanket while she watched TV.

"I’m sorry for your loss,” Quinn said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I’m not,” she fired back. He looked at her, surprised and confused. She sighed, realizing what an inappropriate response that was. “I’m sorry. It’s been a lot these past few days.”

An awkward silence stretched out. Ryane wrapped her arms around her midsection, mortified by how she snapped at him. He’s just trying to help. "I really like your accent," she said, changing the topic.

"All American girls seem to," he quipped.

Ryane groaned and rested her head on the back of the seat. Her phone sprang to life, as a robotic voice said, “Warning! Asshole calling! Warning! Asshole calling!”

“Shit,” she muttered.

Quinn chuckled. Ryane blushed and quickly picked up. “Hey, Miles!” she said.

“Where are you?" he demanded. "The funeral starts in less than 10 minutes!”

“Calm down,” she chided, exasperated. “I’m almost there!” She hung up. “I cannot wait for this to be over,” she said.

“Who was that?” Quinn asked.

“My brother, Miles.” She scrunched her nose in disgust.

“You two seem to get along well,” he said, sarcastically.

“He’s a real jerk,” she said.

“Hmm.” Quinn eyed her. Curiosity about what was going on with her family creeped into his mind. I suppose it won’t hurt to see what’s going on, he thought to himself.

As he pulled into a spot in the parking lot, Ryane seemed to wilt. She looked down, trying to get the courage to open the door and face her family. “T-thank you,” she stuttered.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked.

She clenched her jaw, her lower lip trembling. “Mmhmm,” she forced out.

He noticed how scared she was. “You know what? I’ll come in with you. And I’ll take you home after," he insisted, getting out.

"Wait, really?" she said, stumbling out of the car, and catching up with him.

"Yeah," he said, casually.

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done more than enough. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He looked at his watch. “I have time,” he said, with a smile. “Besides, it wouldn’t feel right just abandoning you now. These people sound awful.”

“They are,” she admitted.

“Then I’m coming with,” he stated. “Simple.” He held the door open for her.

"Thank you," she said, as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that a complete stranger offered to go to her mother's funeral with her. She turned her gaze to his face, getting a better look now that they were in the light. He had a narrow face with a strong jaw and a pointed chin. His pale skin had a grey tinge to. His irises were bright red. She grabbed his arm. "Are you okay? Your eyes... they're red! Like really red!"

He sighed. "Yeah. I have a circulatory condition. It's fine," he explained. "But I appreciate the concern."

They walked into the small chapel, which was littered with pink roses. There was an open white casket with gold trim at the front. The service had already started, so they quietly took a seat in the back.

“And now some words from her daughter, Ryane,” the pastor said just as they sat down.

Ryane clenched her fist and dug her nails into her palm. She slowly got up and went to the front. She adjusted the microphone and inhaled deeply, hand shaking. "My mom... was uh, a person... who was a mom... her name was Betty Collins, and she was my mom," she stuttered, forcing the words out.

An awkward silence hung in the air. As Quinn watched her, he noticed how rigid her body was, as if holding back a tidal wave of emotion. She reminded him of a hostage saying how well her captors were treating her.

She paused, searching for what to say next. "She was a good mom, and I will always miss her." Her tone was bitter. She stepped down and returned to her seat next to Quinn. She put her head down, shielding her face with a curtain of hair.

"She was an abuser, wasn't she?" he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Ryane flinched at his cold touch, feeling exposed without her hair to hide behind. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“Well, thank you, Ryane,” the pastor said. "Kathrine has also requested to say a few words about her sister."

A pudgy lady with gray curly hair and gold wire-rimmed glasses on a chain stepped up. “My sister was always selfless. She put others before herself…”

Ryane took her phone out and opened a notepad.

This is bullshit.

Quinn chuckled under his breath. He took out a small pad of paper and pencil from his coat pocket.

I know.

Ryane's smile widened. He was safe. He understood.

The service soon ended, and the murmur of people’s conversation buzzed in the background. Ryane approached the casket and stared at her mother's waxy face. She had short bleached blond hair, a round face and pale skin. There were rose petals scattered in the casket along with a string of pearls draped on the lid. Ryane’s hands clenched into fists as she stared down at the corpse. Quinn came and put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unclenching her fist and massaging her hand.

“I can still see her sour lemon face,” Ryane mused. "It’s very faint but there.”

“Her what?” Quinn asked, grinning.

She puckered her lips in a tight scowl and widened her eye. Quinn snorted but quickly covered his mouth. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed his inappropriate outburst. He peered inside the casket. “Oh, I see it,” he said.

“So, I’m not crazy,” she said, relieved. She looked around the room nervously. She saw a middle-aged man with neatly combed grey hair, a wide build and bright green eyes. “Let’s go,” she said, quickly.

Before they made it to the exit, the man approached them. “Ryane,” he called.

She clenched her jaw and slowly turned around. “Hi Mr. Anderson,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes to the ground.

Quinn eyed the man suspiciously. There was something off about him.

Mr. Anderson pulled Ryane in for a hug. She went limp for a moment, trying to bring herself to hug him back. She managed to slowly bring her arms around him. She could feel tears sting her eyes as they rolled down her face. She was thankful it was her mother’s funeral so her crying wouldn’t look too out of place.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension between them.

He finally let go. “How have you been holding up?” Mr. Anderson asked, sounding sympathetic.

“Fine,” Ryane muttered.

Mr. Anderson turned his attention to Quinn. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he said, with a warm smile.

Ryane tried to think of how she was going to explain having a guy she just met at her mother’s funeral. “This is Quinn. He's....”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Quinn interjected, extending his hand.

She looked up at him in shock. He gave her a sly smile as he pulled her to his side, keeping a tight arm around her.

She let out a small, nervous laugh. She let herself relax in his arms, leaning against him.

“Oh, nice to meet you!” Mr. Anderson said politely.

“Are you a friend of the family?” Quinn asked.

“Yes. Betty and I were very close. I was also Ryane’s high school teacher.”

His voice felt like nails on a chalkboard to Ryane. “We should go,” Ryane said, quickly.

“Alright. It was good to see you Ryane,” Mr. Anderson said, going for another hug but Quinn stepped between them.

“Goodbye,” Quinn said, firmly, leading Ryane away.

“Thank you,” she said.

“What was all that about?” he asked. “You did not seem comfortable.”

“It was nothing,” she said, dismissively. “He’s just kinda weird…”

“Weird how?”

Before she could answer a man with bleached blond hair stepped in front of them. He was wearing a grey button-down shirt, tucked into neatly pressed slacks.

“Ryane, we need to talk,” he said, taking no notice of Quinn. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to a secluded hall.

Quinn curiously followed, keeping a distance.

“Ryane we have told you time and time again you need to be on time for these things,” he said, voice shaking with anger.

“I’m sorry I—”

“And what was that speech? This is your mother’s funeral and you barely pulled it together!” Miles berated. Ryane looked away as tears began to fall. I should have been more careful.

“And what's with your hair? And your dress is wrinkled already? Didn't you just buy that? I just thought that since it was your mom's funeral, you would want to look nice.” he said, voice rising.

Ryane shrank back against the wall, bracing herself for what was to come. “You are so selfish!” he snapped, banging his fist into the wall less than an inch from her head.

She flinched. “You are so selfish!” Miles said as he backhanded Ryane.

Quinn stood there shocked at what he just witnessed. He’s her brother! He shouldn’t treat her like that.

“What’s going on?” Quinn demanded, putting himself between Ryane and Miles like he had done with the drunk driver.

Ryane pressed her back into the wall, ashamed for him to see her family like this.

Miles immediately plastered a polite smile on his face. “Nothing. I was just talking with my sister.”

Quinn bit back a harsh response and kept his calm.

“Have we met?” Miles asked, sizing him up.

“I’m Quinn, Ryane’s boyfriend,” he replied.

"Hey, man, nice to meet you. I'm Miles, Ryane's brother," he said, tone laced with polite insincerity. Miles's face scrunched when he looked back to Ryane.

“I love you, dude, but you need to grow up,” Miles said, casually. He turned and started to walk away.

"What an ass!" Quinn said under his breath. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said, in a strained voice. “We should go.”

Before they made it to the door, a girl with tight brown curls piled on her head in a bun approached them. “Ryane!” she said with a polite smile. She had green eyes and was wearing a black sweater and dress pants.

“Hey!” Ryane said, reluctantly giving her a hug. “Quinn, this is Amy, my cousin.”

“Who’s this?” Amy asked, looking him up and down.

“Hi. I'm Quinn, her boyfriend," he said.

Amy looked at Ryane, shocked. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I haven’t seen you in forever! Why don’t you come hang out with the family anymore?”

Ryane laughed nervously as she felt a wave of shame crash over her. “Eh... I've been busy.” She gripped Quinn’s hand and turned to leave. “We were on our way home…”

“You were so lucky to have had her for a mom,” Amy remarked, tone darkening. Ryane paused to look at her. “She was a sweet, frail old woman whose heart was broken," Amy continued. "She just wanted her daughter back. She needed you.”

Ryane stood there rigid and shaking with anger. "I did my best," she choked. “I really did.”

Quinn swallowed a lump in his throat. He placed a hand on her lower back and started to lead her out.

"We saw the note!" Amy called after her. "That note was the last thing she read before she died!"

"Good!" Ryane blurted out, causing heads to turn. "You don't know what she was like when no one was watching!" she snapped and turned to leave.

Ryane’s tears spilled over as soon as she slammed the car door shut. Quinn took a deep breath as he leaned back into his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to clear his head.

"I am so sorry you had to see that," she said.

"No. Don't apologize. It’s not right how they treat you," he said, trying to keep his emotions in check. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "You know you don't have to see them anymore, right? You don't live with any of them... do you?"

"No, but it's just hard to pull away," she stammered.

"But sometimes we have to do it for our own sake, you know. Let’s take you home now. Where to?" he asked.

"It’s 27 West Knoll Street," she replied.

Quinn started the car and headed out. He shivered as a wave of chills creeped down his spine. I need to eat soon.

"This one?" he asked, pulling up to a small apartment building.

"Yeah." She glanced at him hesitantly and said, "Hey... can I see you again?"

He turned to her confused. "Why?"

"I like you. You're cool."

His heart clenched. "I am?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He paused, thinking. "Yes, we can see each other again. But make no mistake: I'm not what you think I am."

"What do you mean?" she asked, hesitantly.

"If you get in too deep with me, I may not let you out." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She felt the same invisible fog wrapping her as before, sweeping away any fears she had.

“We’ll see,” she said.

“Okay, so I’ll need your number then,” he said. He took out an ancient blue Razor phone.

"What is that?" she asked, giggling.

"My phone. Believe it or not, it used to be very popular."

"Can you even receive text messages on that?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded. He rattled off his phone number, and she quickly typed it in. Excitement swelled in her as she saved it. Maybe he would be different. Maybe he would come to like her.

"Send me a text," he said.

Hey, this is Ryane.

She hit SEND, and his phone dinged. “Cool,” she said and turned to get out, but Quinn put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

She glanced at him cautiously. He looked into her large brown eyes and said, “If you need anything, give me a call. I mean it.” He stayed and made sure she got inside safe before driving off. He looked at the clock. 9:30. He dialed Lucas.

“Hey! Where are you? We agreed to dine out tonight!” Lucas said upon picking up. "I'm freezing!"

Quinn took note of the chills creeping across his skin too. “I’m sorry! Something came up.”

“This better be good,” he grumbled.

“Well, I was going to stop for an appetizer. It would have been a quick, easy kill but she was cute... and on her way to a funeral! It didn’t feel right. I’ll probably drain her later.”

"You mean you let her go?" Lucas said, surprised.

"Yes," Quinn replied slowly. “I just need to clear my head. I’ll do it later.”

"Well, be careful. Whatever you do, don't get too attached. It's just food."

***

When Quinn arrived at the park, Lucas was lazily spinning on the tire swing, toying with a camera around his neck, clearly bored.

“What took you so long?” Lucas asked, snapping a picture of Quinn.

Quinn shielded his face. “She lives on the other side of town,” he replied.

Lucas hopped off the swing and adjusted the fingerless gloves on his hands. “What? You took her home? Then you drove away? This isn’t like you,” Lucas sighed as they walked under the rusty monkey bars. The moonlight that washed over their cadaverous skin made them look like ghosts in the streetlight. Lucas lifted himself up and hung upside down, snapping a few pictures. “Quinn! Smile!” Quinn glared into the lens. “Good enough,” Lucas said, climbing down.

“I know humans are food, but it becomes incredibly hard to kill them once you know their name... and I met her family, her incredibly abusive family,” Quinn said.

“A family like yours?” Lucas asked. “What a surprise!”

Quinn glared at him. “Alright, you wanna play this game? What about your obsession with blonds?”

“Fuck you!” Lucas snapped.

“You started it,” Quinn replied.

Lucas jammed his hands in his pockets and looked away.

"So where are we going tonight?" Lucas asked, changing the topic.

"Why don't we check the old warehouse?"

"We haven't been there in ages!" Lucas said, twirling his axe.

***

Lucas made it to the faded grey building in less than ten minutes. Quinn arrived shortly after. He leaned against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

“That wolf bite really slows you down,” Lucas sneered.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “At least I can go out in the sunlight…sort of.”

“Whatever,” Lucas scoffed.

They slipped in through the same broken window they used many times before. They stood, listening carefully. They could hear very distant voices on the upper floors.

Quinn silently pointed up. Lucas nodded.

They appeared upstairs to see a group of four guys covered in tattoos dressed in torn clothing. A thick fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air with a strong stench.

"Bleh!" Lucas said, nearly gagging on the smell.

The four men went quiet as they turned their attention to Quinn and Lucas. They laughed, dismissively as they sized them up.

"You boys lost?" the fat one sneered while blowing more smoke in their direction.

Quinn and Lucas grinned, amused. "They always ask that," Quinn snickered.

"Every time," Lucas commented.

"Something funny?" the skinny one asked.

"Not really. Just looking for a place to eat." Quinn said.

"You're in the wrong place," the large muscled one snarled.

"No. No, I think we're exactly where we want to be." Quinn said and took a step forward.

The man took a step back and lifted his shirt slightly, exposing the handgun stored in his waistband.

"Don't do anything stupid boys. Two against four isn't exactly a fair fight," the short one said.

Lucas let out a noticeable laugh and all eyes turned to him. The skinny man reached for his gun but before he could take it out, Quinn appeared behind him. He grabbed him by the throat and sunk his teeth into the man’s neck. He moaned and his eyes widened as the warmth from the blood rushed into his body.

The largest man drew his gun on Quinn. The other two fumbled trying to get at their weapons.

"Hey!" Lucas said as he started towards him. The man raised his gun and shot.

The bullet hit Lucas directly in the chest. He clutched at the wound, making exaggerated choking noises. "Ah! You got me!" Lucas exclaimed as he fell to his knees dramatically.

The man looked confused as Lucas got up. He raised his gun again, this time emptying the chamber.

Lucas laughed. “You have good aim,” he said casually.

He strolled through the storm of bullets, putting his camera behind his back to keep it safe. He got to the man who dropped the gun. Visibly frightened the man turned to run, but Lucas jumped on his back and quickly bit into his jugular.

The two others bolted for the stairs. Quinn quickly finished off the skinny one, dropping the pale corpse. He grabbed the fat one by the shirt. The man clumsily drew his knife and flailed around trying to stab anything. He managed to tear Quinn’s shirt, exposing the blue scars on his shoulders. Quinn snickered at the man’s pathetic attempt to free himself. He slammed him against the wall and sucked him dry.

The shortest one sprinted down the stairs. Lucas finished the guy he was on and watched. He snapped a few pictures of the bodies and of Quinn draining the fat one. Quinn flashed a peace sign as Lucas snapped a picture. He leaned over to check where the guy was. He was on floor three. “This is taking forever!” Lucas lamented.

He leaned on the railing as waited until the short one reached the last flight of steps.

“Finally!” he muttered, launching himself over the railing, falling ten floors. The man didn't see what happened and ran right into Lucas.

He was an inch or two shorter than Lucas, making him feel tall. He grabbed his wrists and laughed. "Aw! You really thought you had a chance," he mocked as the man struggled against his steely grip.

Quinn landed next to him. “Nicely done,” he said.

Lucas smiled and bit into the man's neck, drinking him down like a soda. He took out his camera and got a quick selfie, his teeth still in the man's flesh.

Quinn leaned into the picture, flashing a cheesy smile as Lucas took another picture.

“So, how were they?” Quinn asked, inspecting the tear in his shirt.

Lucas detached from the man's neck, dropping him on the ground. "That one had a lot of cheap beer in his system!" he said pointing to the pale corpse at their feet. "I didn't like the bigger one. He was more acidic. How about you?"

"The skinny one had a surprising sweet tooth but the fat one was very alcoholic as well."

"Hm…odd."

"Let's go back to the park, see if we can find something for dessert and then call it a night so you can get home before sunrise?”

"Sure," Lucas said, picking bullets out of his body as they walked out of the warehouse.

They took their time, enjoying the night air. "Did you notice they had matching friend tattoos?" Lucas asked.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Those were gang tattoos."

"I prefer to think of them as bestie tattoos," Lucas sneered, with an edge of sarcasm.

"I suppose," Quinn chuckled.

"We should get matching tattoos!" Lucas said, excitedly.

"No," Quinn said, bluntly, voice dropping.

"What if I just got your name tattooed on my arm?" Lucas joked.

"I would cut your arm off," Quinn replied.

Lucas gasped, pretending to be offended. "But we're best friends forever!"

"And we don't need ink pounded into our skin to remind us of that," Quinn said, ruffling Lucas's hair.

"I guess you're right," Lucas said with a slight smile.

“Let’s check the slides and tubes,” Quinn said, when they arrived at the park.

“Fine. I’ll get the stuff ready under that platform thing.”

Quinn silently moved through the shadows, looking in the slides. There was a man bundled in blankets, fast asleep. “Found one!” he called, dragging the man out by his feet.

“Wha-” The man was looking around wildly.

Quinn pulled him to the platform, where Lucas had laid out a tarp, draining tubes and blood bags.

“Get him on the tarp,” Lucas said as the man tried to free himself.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Quinn snapped, rolling him onto the tarp.

“Smile for the camera,” Lucas mocked, snapping a picture of the man’s terrified face.

“What do you guys want?” the man sobbed.

“So, how have you been?” Quinn asked, paying no attention to the man.

“I’ve been okay,” Lucas said, as he snapped his legs. The man let out a shrill scream. “Do you mind?” Lucas said to the man, annoyed. He pulled out his steel axe.

“Lucas! You can’t use that! You’ll make a mess,” he said over the man’s broken sobs.

“I like cutting off the heads... and I forgot the duct tape,” he admitted sheepishly.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Gag him for now and we can cut it off once he’s almost drained.”

Lucas dropped the axe and removed the red cloth tied around his head. He forced it into the man’s mouth, making his screams become nothing but muffled whimpers. He leaned over the man and took a picture of himself making a peace sign with the man gagged and sobbing in the background.

***

Later that night Ryane sat at the kitchen table with a small circle of wood, a pencil and a laser cutter. She wrote “Thank you” in large calligraphic letters on the piece of wood.

Her phone rang. It was Clair. Ryane sighed and answered. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey! You called?”

“Yeah… I had car trouble,” Ryane replied, flatly.

“Oh, no! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it worked out,” Ryane said, smiling to herself.

“Well, that’s good! I’m kind of busy at the moment. I just wanted to see what you called about,” Clair said quickly. Her tone was very dismissive, making Ryane cringe.

“O-okay. Is everything good at least?”

“Oh,” she said, voice dropping. “My roommate passed away, so I’ve been busy with that.”

“What?” she sputtered, as a pang of guilt stabbed at her. I shouldn’t have bothered her. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? What happened?”

“She was hit by a drunk driver. It was a hit and run.”

“Oh my god! How are you holding up?”

“Thank you for your concern. I will be fine. I have some really good people taking care of me,” Chair replied.

Ryane pursed her lips, slightly annoyed. She wanted to support Clair too. She was her friend, wasn’t she? “Uh… okay… well, I’m sorry for your loss. I’m here if you need me.”

After they hung up, Ryane sat there trying to process her anger. “One moment they’re talking about how close we all are, but when something happens, they keep it a secret from me,” she grumbled. “Would it be too much to ask for them to admit we’re not that close?”

She angrily stabbed her carving knife into the table. She paused, realizing what she had done. She took a calming breath and yanked it out. She ran her fingers over the cluster of small holes from the other times she stabbed it.

Her hands began to shake. She got up and went to her bedside, picked up a black spiral notebook and began to write.

I wish I had true friends. It’s a strange feeling when two or more people that you know hang out with each other and there was no mention of you. What about me? Why didn’t you think of me? I know it’s a narcissistic way of thinking, and I hate myself for even having these thoughts.

Is there something wrong with me? What is it? If I knew, I would change. Is it possible I am just so unlikable that people actively avoid me? Maybe just no one wants to hang around a narcissistic puddle of a person.

I talk to people a lot. I tell people my interests and stories, but no one seems to care. The most interaction I have with people is by quickly asking follow-up questions. “How’s your dad? Is he doing better?” Only then would I get any sort of interest and acknowledgement. But I need people to acknowledge me as a person. I do stuff. Look at me. Please.

After she calmed down, she picked up the laser cutter, and traced the pencil outlines. She flipped it over and inscribed:

To: Quinn

From: Ryane

She inspected her work and smiled. She attached the circlet to a keychain. Soon, her phone dinged. It was a message from Quinn.

Do you want me to drive you to work tomorrow?

She replied:

Sure. Be here at 7.

It didn’t take long for her phone to ding again.

See you then! Can’t wait! Good night!

She smiled to herself. She tried to make sense of the recent events, but her mind and body failed her. She fell back on the pillow and drifted off.

Links to Death to the Soul: For free: Wattpad

For purchase: Amazon

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gingermintpepper · 2 months ago

Text

I have finished the book. It was not a very good book at all. My preliminary thoughts are as follows:

Prose is the best part about it but also one of the worst. Evocative and lovely language was used for what I can only describe as manipulating the reader. In a different book by a different writer, perhaps that would be the mark of a good unreliable narrator but this is not that kind of book and the writer, I fear, is not clever enough for that kind of narrative.

The characters - I do not think of them. Trapped as we are in Alcestis' head, she is a passive, dull thing who I do not know any better at the end of the book than I did at the start. I couldn't distinguish where her voice ended and where the author's began and it is through that haziness that all other characters are observed. Admetus is an objectively phenomenal husband but his kindness and regard is made bitter because he loves Apollo not her. Apollo is no more than a ghost haunting them both. Hippothoe and Phylomache exist as images of what Alcestis could be - a woman who dies of illness or children - and Heracles is awkward and small, quiet and passive in the way everything is in this book. Persephone and Hades are perhaps the only characters of some interest in here, but Persephone is a volatile mess of power masquerading as empowerment while Hades, like all the men in this book really, is small and passive and really only becomes worth something when out of Persephone's massive shadow.

The romance - What romance? There is no romance in this book. Alcestis imagines that what occurs between Admetus and Apollo is a romance but we do not get to see that story. The obvious regard and kindness Admetus holds for Alcestis would be romance in any other book - but in this it is described with so much apathy and loathing so as to make Admetus' actions seem unremarkable and lacking. As for Persephone and Alcestis; Alcestis wants nothing to do with her until Persephone forces her. She assaults her, like Hades assaulted her, while speaking the words of that tale into Alcestis' flesh while Alcestis rejects her and somehow this becomes the catalyst of their 'love'. There is no romance in this book.

The queer themes - I am not sure how one makes a story so easily given to a queer imagining biphobic, lesbophobic and not poly but it sure did that. Alcestis' ideas about love and sexuality and how it might possibly have different forms and fashions is unchanged from start to finish and homosexuality, for all that it is what she blames her ruined marriage on, is never explored past a few fleeting, derogatory descriptions and quickly brushed over allusions.

The Apollo Thing - Listen to me so carefully. Apollo is only in a single scene of this book. One single scene and it is the wedding scene where Admetus calls upon him to save them from the poisonouse snakes. Every other mention of him in this book is in passing, an offhanded mention of a person praying to a god, or with the underlying scorn and anger of a wife thinking of her husband's mistress. Apollo is not even there when Alcestis dies. He wasn't even responsible for Heracles eventually going down to the Underworld to retrieve her. If the author could've erased him from the wedding scene too, I'm sure she would've invented a way to do it. Apollo has no relationship with Alcestis, we do not get to see the nature of his relationship with Admetus and every other opportunity which existed to show him on their side was neatly and entirely erased. Thanatos, naturally, is completely absent from this novel.

In short, this was entirely unpleasant from essentially start to finish. I was very excited when I started this book and saw the quality of the prose and also the ambivalent character sketched of its gods but things went so rapidly and extremely downhill that I am left wondering how it was possibly flubbed that badly.

Regarding this book's feminism, I will dedicate a separate post to that entirely. To this book's credit, it did not have the superficial girlboss feminism that many of its contemporaries tend to champion but to its complete and utter detriment, the feminism it champions is perhaps the most insidious kind. The sort that excludes the disenfranchised, the impoverished and the normal woman. This book's feminism is for the privileged and the powerful and it is a deeply upsetting thing.

Lastly, I would like to thank @superkooku , @konu-d and @waterlinkedgirl for cheering me on through this absolute torment. I would not have finished this without them. Take that as you will.

If you are interested in the tale of Admetus and Alcestis or just want to read a retelling, I urge you to just read @reawakened-revenant (CiCiRose on ao3)'s God of the Golden Bow series. It is captivating, enthralling, impeccably researched and so utterly submersed in passion, love and care that it is breathtaking to read. It is a personal favourite of mine and the standard to which I hold all other Admetus and Alcestis retellings.

With all that done, I am going to stare at a wall and contemplate the horrors now. ✌🏾

#ginger review #Yeah I'm making a new tag for this because this is the last straw #I'm absolutely gonna pursue that reviewing fics and stories thing with this blog #if this shitass book is getting whole posts dedicated to it #actually phenomenal greek myth writing should get places as well #anyway this was miserable #Katherine Beutner I'm giving you a place of dishonour right next to Madeline Miller and Jennifer Saint #I need white American women to stop writing feminist greek myth retellings for a while #“Ginger Jennifer Saint is British” She writes like an American so she is getting put in their box #It doesn't matter how educated these women are - it doesn't fix the underlying fact that they all think they know better than the myths #these stories all REEK of wanting to prove themselves better than the poets of old #a certain “fine I'll do it myself” attitude that is only endearing if you have the chops to back it up #and frankly none of them do #Miller is fine as a writer - I'll be dead in the grave before I try to say that she's a bad writer #but the fundamental misunderstanding and lack of empathy in these books which are marketed as empathetic safe and inclusive #is absolutely fucking staggering #I cannot believe I have to say this but in an oppressive patriarchal system women do not CHOOSE to be oppressed #they ARE oppressed because all of society is constructed in such a way that they must always be lower than the men #the unfortunate reality of your birth can be compensated for if you are wealthy uncommonly talented uncommonly beautiful #or uncommonly educated but even then women still struggle and fight for their skills and talents to be recognised as equivalent to a man's #in ancient greece women were so low because they were seen as the opposite of a man #so every attribute that was seen as unmanly and therefore imperfect/inadequate was ascribed to women #that is why the worst/most shameful thing for a man to be was effeminate #if I have to read one more fucking retelling where the female protagonist simply chooses not to be oppressed anymore I am going to scream #All you're doing is showing that you have so much fucking privilege that you think feminism is as easy as a woman standing up and saying no #There are STILL countries today where women get killed for that #or where the masculine fear of being percieved as feminine is so powerful that it causes violence and death #I don't need to be told that feminism is easy if you're white rich and pretty by my books too #god fuck all of y'all I didn't even get to bitch about a shitty Apollo because he's NOT IN THE GODDAMN BOOK #the great retelling circle

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