Free My Darrling by Krystal McLean Page A

of my head. In that moment, Isaac wasn’t a killer, wasn’t
plastered all over newspapers and the news. He wasn’t vile; he wasn’t
malicious. He was Isaac, the boy I loved without condition.
    “I want this to be special.” He jerked his chin toward the
bathroom. “Can you go wait in there for a few minutes?”
    “Yeah, sure,” I said. Then I remembered the blood. There
isn’t a bigger mood-kill than finding blood in a murderers washroom. “Or I could
wait outside.”
    He shook his head. “It’s cold out there.”
    “I’m hot.” Despite the sparsity of the heat in Isaac’s motel
room, my palms sweated, my cheeks burned up. “And I’ll wear a jacket.”
    He picked his jacket up off the dresser and swung it around
me. “All right. I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”
    Isaac was very methodical; every word that left his mouth
seemed well thought out, careful. He was used to planning his every move, so
this would be no different.
    I waited outside the door. It was a cold, windy night, but I
still felt warm. I tended to burn up when I was nervous or anxious—or just when
I felt any heightened emotion.
    I was about to lose my virginity.
    I was about to lose my virginity to a boy who killed
innocent people.
    And somehow I had never felt so sure of anything in my life.
Isaac, without a doubt, took too many wrong turns in life, but I believed that
he was the person who was put on planet Earth for me. He fit me like a glove;
he was the part of me that had been missing my whole life. I had spent the past
eighteen years of my life as half a person, and I had finally found the rest of
me. Despite Isaac’s crimes, despite how dangerous he was, despite how cruel and
disgusting his actions were, he was the person I was made for. I had never, even
for a second, doubted that.
    I hadn’t even been outside for ten minutes before Isaac opened
the door a crack. “You can come in now.”
    I stood up and walked back into the room, taking his hand in
mine.
    An iPod streamed music softly through the speakers. The floor
was a carpet of flower petals, and flickering candles lit the room. Isaac had
bought me so many candles and bouquets of flowers that I lost count. I had to
leave everything he bought me in his motel room so that my parents wouldn’t
question me, and now it all laid before me; so beautiful, so mesmerizing. The
blanket was ripped off the bed and spread across the floor, also covered in
flower petals.
    My voice caught in my throat. I was speechless.
    “I, Uh—I didn’t want to do it on a sleazy motel bed, so I kind
of created our own little paradise.” His voice shook a little. He was nervous,
too. He seemed so fragile in that moment.
    “I love it, Isaac,” I finally said. “I have an idea.”
    He cocked an eyebrow in confusion.
    I tore the sheets off the bed, tucked one end in the dresser
drawer, then closed it. I tucked the other end in between the mattress.
    “A fort?” He watched me in what looked like amusement.
    “Why not? C’mon, only drones let society tell them how to act
at each age. There’s no manual, no rules to follow.” I shrugged. “And besides,
this might sound weird, but I’ve wanted to build a fort and just waste time in
it with you since I met you. Since before I met you.”
    He smiled wide and I stopped to stare in awe for a moment.
Isaac almost looked like a different person when he smiled. His face lit up,
beamed. It was beautiful.
    “Let me help you,” he finally offered. He grabbed a corner
of the sheet and tucked it in between the mattress.
    I tucked the last corner in, and then stood back to admire
our fort. “Looks good.”
    I crawled in, and Isaac followed. The fort was slanted and
we couldn’t sit up in it, but it was cozy.
    Isaac and I were face-to-face; as he exhaled I felt his warm
breath blow across my lips. The angles of his face were more pronounced in the
candlelight. He lay down on his back, and I rested my head on his chest. He
wrapped his arms around me