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“AUNT ROSALIE?” CECE entered Rosalie’s two-story brick home that night with snacks for their Netflix binge. “Where are you?” He walked through the walnut panel floor and into the den. “Auntie?”
Rosalie sat on the beige and white sofa with her arms crossed, watching Sons of Anarchy.
“Hey, you’ve started already?” He set the sack of food on the console table, grinning. “You’re supposed to wait for me, remember?”
She tucked in her lips.
“Auntie, what’s wrong?” He sat on the cushioned footstool by the recliner.
“Why did you tell Quarter and Wilks you were with me when Lang Latimer was murdered?” She clutched the remote. “When you weren’t?”
CeCe rubbed the spot below his nose.
“Huh?” She crooked her head to him, worry lines filling her face. “Why did you lie to the police? Where were you that night, CeCe?”
He rocked forward, rubbing his hands. “What do you mean?”
“Where were you?” She slammed the remote on the table. “You damn sure weren’t with me.”
“I was at home.” He sat back, propping his leg on his thigh. “They won’t believe me because of Jeanette Dobbins. I have no one to vouch for me.”
“You live in an apartment full of people with plenty of witnesses if you’re telling the truth.” Rosalie swept her hands over her face. “I’ll always love you no matter what but be honest with me.”
“Fuckin’ say it.” He rose. “You think I killed Lang don’t you?” He knocked the plant off the stand on his way to the window. “You’re letting Connie and Quarter get into your head!”
“It’s not about anyone else,” she hollered. “This is about you, CeCe. We’re talking about you and I want the truth.”
“I was home!” He turned from the window, pointing at her. “That’s the last time I’m gonna say it.”
“What about Jeanette?”
“Fuck this and fuck you.” He raced past her and she grabbed his arm. “Let me go.”
“You’re lying.”
“Auntie,” he whispered with pain etched in his voice. “Are you saying you believe I killed Jeanette and Lang?”
“God, I wish I wasn’t.” She burst into tears, a harsh shriek escaping her. “I was too concerned about how things looked than the bigger picture.”
He spoke through clenched teeth, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this pain inside me.” She fell to her knees, her face torn with sorrow. “This excruciating feeling that won’t go away no matter what I do. I realized it was guilt.” She looked up at him, tears drifting in waves. “I wanted so much to believe you about Jeanette.” She hit the floor with her fist. “I kept telling myself there was no way you could hurt her but in the back of my mind...” Her sobs disrupted her words. “I knew you did it.”
He moaned, pacing until he got to the wall.
Rosalie cried, coughing and jerking. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you CeCe, but I can’t live with this guilt anymore.” She got off the floor. “I need to hear it from your lips. You owe me that.”
“I owe you?” He charged her. “This is your fault.”
“What?”
“You knew.” Tears filled his eyes. “People told you I was more than strange. Teachers, therapists, doctors and you did shit about it.” He pointed at her, his hand quaking in the same way it did when he got that urge. “I was just a child. You could’ve fixed things before I lost control but you didn’t care.”
She covered her mouth, yelping.
“The beast is out and I can’t put him back in.”
“Why?” She grabbed him. “Why did you do this?” She slapped him on both sides of his face. “I love you, boy!” She shoved him, gripping her head. “Oh, God. No. No!”
CeCe sat on the couch, rocking.
“How many?” She blinked through tears. “How many women have you killed?”
“Don’t do this. Please.”
“How many?” she yelled.
“It doesn’t matter.” He caressed his knuckles. “Things just escalated. I didn’t plan it.”
“How many?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does! How many families are out their grieving because of what you did?”
“I didn’t intend to kill Jeanette. She pretended she was into me and lured me to her place and dumped me. We fought and something took control and my hands were around her throat.”
She covered her mouth, groaning.
“After then, I liked it.” His crotch hardened, a sensual ache flooding his legs. “Killing felt good. It fed the urge—”
“You’re a monster!” She smacked him in the nose. “How could you do this? I put my life aside to raise you and this is what you do?”
“It’s all about you, huh?” He stood, panting. “You only took me in for the checks.”
“I was the only one who stepped up when my sister ran out on you. Is that why you turned out this way? You can’t handle rejection from women because of your mother?”
“Shut up.” He yanked her neck with both hands.
“CeCe!” She pushed against him but didn’t have half his strength. “Let go.” A deep red color saturated her face. “I can’t breathe.”
“I’m sick of your nagging.” He swung her around, holding his grip. “This is your fault.”
“CeCe!” She coughed. “I can’t breathe.”
He threw her on the couch, tightening his grasp. “You killed those women, not me.” Sweat shook from his face and his hands ached from compression. “You did it!” He shook her neck. “You did it!”
After a few minutes of gurgling and drooling, Rosalie went limp.
“Auntie?”
Her head fell to the side, vacant eyes wide and still.
“No.” CeCe slapped his hands over his mouth, wailing. “No.”