Butcher of the Bayou

Part 3

Time is a funny concept. They say it changes things, but I have found that you actually have to change them yourself.

Eloi wasn't happy when the detective showed up at his door. I bet he was wearing the same smirk he graced me with just hours earlier.

So, I wasn't surprised to hear from Eloi that night. I was, however, surprised it ended in blood and despair.

Hours ago...

I fell asleep on the worn yellow couch watching a bad movie—one of those old black-and-white ones about a cowboy doing cowboy things. The pounding on the door had me peeling my eyes open. I rubbed at the crust that gathered in the corner of my eyes and made my way to see what all the fuss was. I grasped my knife firmly in my right hand as I peered through the peephole.

Eloi's handsome face scrolled back at me. Dark as the night, he was, with green eyes and a shaved head that reflected the porch light off it. I huffed and opened the door.

"It's late. What you want?" I said with a yawn.

"We need to converse, you and I." I smiled; I couldn't help it. Eloi had a way with words.

I walk out onto the porch. The bullfrogs sang their melody in the distance, and the fireflies lit up the night in a choreographed dance that I found beautiful and simple.

"Is this about the suit?"

Eloi frowns down at me, those green eyes full of rage. "Fleur, you want to tell me why you sent that directive sniffen around?" He inhales, holds it for a few seconds, then releases it.

"I didn't tell him nuttin' he didn't already know." The lie rolls off my forked tongue. Will he believe my bullshit?

Green eyes turn stormy as he bites his bottom lip. His fist clenches and unclenches.

He knows I lied. What will he do? I stand my ground and square my shoulders.

"Damnit, girl, you have no idea the can of worms you done opened." Hands dark and calloused, grabs my collar and drags me flush against his chest. I can't help but notice he smells of pine and smoke.

Eloi is many things, but forgiving isn't one of them. Fight or flight clashes against each other in my head. I could run, but it's a small town; he would find me sooner or later.

DO IT! My mind screams at me. The bone handle was hard against my sweaty palm.

Green eyes widen in shock. as the blade goes in. I feel the hot blood rush out and down my hand. I twist the blade and push harder until I hit the bone. His grasp tightens on my collar. He uses what little strength he has and shoves me back. I fall hard against the wooden porch. My head bounced off the railing.

"Maudit! You crazy bitch." Eloi pulls the knife out, and more blood gushes. It looks black under the faint light. He turns his green eyes on me and grasps my knife in his hand as he lunges. I sure as hell don't plan on dying by my own knife.

I kick out my foot connected with his hand, and the blade cuts across my heel before it falls on the porch. I scramble to retrieve it. Just as my hand wraps around the bone handle, Eloi slams his booted foot down on my leg. My cry of pain is cut short by my scalp being jerked back. It burns like it's on fire. I slash behind me blindly in a last-ditch effort to save myself.

You know that sound a coffee pot makes as it finishes brewing the coffee? Well, that was the sound that flowed from Eloi as he struggled to breathe through the slash in his throat. It was deep, and I could only stare at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

He fell on top of me, pinning me down while he bled out all over me and my porch. I knew the moment his soul fled his body. Those green eyes dulled and glazed over.

I lay there for what felt like hours, but it was no more than a few minutes.  The shock and adrenaline are wearing off. After several tries, I finally managed to roll his heavy ass off me. I pulled myself up by the very railing that, moments ago, cracked my skull.

I strip down butt ass naked on the porch, leaving my blooded clothes in a heap at his dead body.

Living in the Bayou had its blessing, and no close neighbors just happened to be one. To be on the safe side, I reach up and turn off the porch light.

The bullfrogs croaked in judgment at me as I dragged his body down the path to the swamp. It was slow going, seeing how he was twice my size and all. Off in the distance, I saw the glow of eyes just above the water, and I knew the gators would come. I rolled his dead ass off into the murky waters and stood back in all my naked glory, and waited.

I didn't have to wait long before they descended on him. I said a small prayer, not for him but for myself.

I never killed anything before other than bugs and such. I should feel something: horror, guilt.

I search deep inside, trying to find an emotion. Any emotion. But all I feel is the mosquito bites. Standing here getting eaten alive isn't going to change anything.

I run back to the house, only stopping when I reach the porch. The blood stains mock me—a reminder of what I did. As I stood on the porch, my bloodied reflection in the darkened window seemed like a stranger staring back at her. The gory details of Eloi's demise replayed in my mind like a sinister lullaby.

Who I am... A killer?