Free Mommy, May I? by A. K. Alexander Page A

he should… No! He couldn’t! She was his friend, but on the other hand she’d betrayed him—hurt him with her words. She had held all the power at that moment, and now, well, now he held the power. No one would know. He’d never kissed a girl, and he’d certainly never touched one in that way.
    She was so beautiful, even with the marks on her face. He’d forgotten how upset he’d been only a couple of hours before. He stroked her face. His fingers traced the outline of her sweet lips. So doll-like. He had to feel them against his. He leaned over her, and brought his lips to hers, kissing her. Her lips were cold and rubbery, but to his body it felt like coming in from freezing weather to a warm home with a blazing fireplace.
    Richard stood back from her. He had to do it. But how, how could he? It didn’t matter; he had to have her. It was late, but so what, because Janie Keaton was about to become his very own. He pulled her tube top down around her waist. His body’s physical reaction fueled him with desire for the dead girl. Her breasts were small nubs, but so very pretty. Richard had never seen anything so wonderful. He unzipped his pants. He was going to touch Janie. He was going to do it with her.
    But then, something went horribly wrong. Janie’s face—once pretty and fair—became hugely swollen and red emphasizing the bruises. He’d applied too much pressure, like his uncle had warned him not to. As this metamorphosis took hold and she rapidly changed into a hideous monster, Richard’s instincts turned cold. His jubilant feelings and lustful thoughts were quickly replaced with anger and pain.
    Richard knew that there was nothing he could do to correct the horrible mistake. He started to cry again. “Dammit!” he screamed. “Why couldn’t you have just said that we could still be friends?” Richard knew he only had one option left.
    Since Uncle James also provided cremation services, Richard went to the cylinder-type oven to light the fire. He waited until it was hot enough, and then placed Janie on the table and slid her inside.
    He cried the whole time her body turned to ash. The room smelled of death. Richard sat next to the incinerator, balled up and shivering, even though the oven put off a great deal of heat. He lay down on the ground, once again feeling the loss of control.
    Richard knew why he had done this terrible thing, and although it hurt, he felt he had been justified. Janie Keaton had chosen to get out, to leave. If she’d lived, she would have turned her back on him. And Richard couldn’t go through that kind of pain. So, instead, he had had to kill Janie; it had put him in control of his destiny—not Janie.
    When it was all over, he knew he needed to get home. He couldn’t wait hours for the oven to cool. It would be morning before that happened. He’d have to tell his uncle that he had forgotten to clean out the oven the other day. He’d do that first thing in the morning.
    Richard walked home, crying and stomping his feet, still not understanding why Janie couldn’t have remained his friend.
     

CHAPTER TEN

    Helena sped up the Ventura Freeway to Santa Barbara in record time. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the steering wheel. She slowed down to pass a Highway Patrol car. The confrontation with Leeza had made her more anxious than she’d expected. Thoughts of a glass of wine crept to the forefront of her mind, but she shoved them away. Drinking would not cure a headache like Leeza, or anything else for that matter.
    As she pulled into the expansive ranch, she sighed, relieved to be there for many reasons. She rolled down the window and breathed in the grassy pastures and nearby ocean. In the pasture to her right, a mare and her foal stood mowing down the grass. It was a beautiful sight and put an immediate smile on her face. She fidgeted with her hair, tucking loose strands back into her ponytail, wondering how Frankie would feel about her surprise visit.
    Helena