Chapter 34: Do 40% of Yandere Kill Their Lovers?

Skye's piercing gray eyes bore into me, her blonde ponytail swishing as she leaned across the lunch table. "Is it always this offensive here?" she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

I feel Erica's arms tighten protectively around me, her warmth enveloping me from behind. Before I can respond, Justine's fiery mane catches the light as she tosses her head back with a laugh.

"When I said that 40% of cops hit their husbands and then asked if Jason got hit, how is that offensive? Is it because it’s his mom and not his wife?" Justine counters, her green eyes sparkling.

I can't help but smile at Skye, completely nonplussed by her attempt to defend my honor. It's annoying and unnecessary. Justin has been asking me this shit my whole life. ‘I guess Justine now.’

"It's fine, Skye," I say softly, nestling deeper into Erica's embrace as if she was my throne. "I think she means well.'“

Irma fidgets in her seat, her wild brown curls bouncing as she squirms uncomfortably. Her green eyes dart around the cafeteria. She clears her throat, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Um, not to be rude or anything, but... why exactly was I invited here?" Irma asks, her fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on the lunch table.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Skye speaks with a patient tone. "Well, I just thought... You know, maybe you could use some friends," Skye replies hesitantly.

Erica lets out a long-suffering sigh, her blue eyes narrowing as she regards Irma. "Also," Erica says. "care to explain why you dropped three eggs out of your pussy in the bathroom the other day?"

Irma's eyes widen in shock, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She squirms more intensely in her chair, a faint clinking sound barely audible. "What are you talking about?" she sputters as she try’s to lie. Her face turning beet red. "Wait a minute," she says, pointing an accusatory finger at me, "Why were you in the girls bathroom anyway, Jason?"

"Because Erica won't let me out of her sight," I reply with a nonchalant shrug as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Erica's arms tighten around me possessively, her arrogant smile practically radiating smugness as she rests her chin on my shoulder. I can't help but smile, too, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

‘Shit I can already feel the stiffy coming if she puts her face there.’

Skye's jaw drops slightly, her gray eyes widening in disbelief as she takes in our intimate dynamic.

Meanwhile, Irma's face has turned an even deeper shade of crimson. She squirms more intensely in her seat, the faint clinking sound becoming more pronounced. "I-I don't put eggs in my vagina!" she sputters indignantly, her wild curls bouncing with each emphatic shake of her head. "That's absolutely ridiculous! Why would anyone even do that?"

As she speaks, a small, perfectly oval object slips from beneath her skirt, hitting the floor with a soft 'crack' leaving a yellow residue on the ground. The table falls into a heavy silence.

Justine's emerald eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans forward, her fiery hair cascading over her shoulders. "Oh honey," she purrs, her voice dripping with amusement, "I think your hen house just sprung a leak."

Irma's face contorts in horror, her wild curls seeming to stand even more on end as she realizes what's happened. Her green eyes dart frantically between the egg on the floor and our stunned faces.

Suddenly, Irma leaps to her feet, sending her chair clattering to the floor. "Look, I wanted to see what it would feel like if they hatched inside of me, alright?!" she shrieks, her voice echoing through the lunchroom.

My jaw drops, and I feel Erica's arms loosen slightly in shock. Skye's eyes are as wide as saucers, while Justine looks like she's about to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"You... what?" I manage to stammer, my mind reeling from this bizarre revelation. "How would that even work? Those eggs aren’t even fertilized are -"

But before I can finish my question, Lyra surprises me from behind. She’s crying hard as if something terrible happened to her. "Jason," she says, her voice trembling. "I need to speak with you. In private. Please, it's urgent."

I feel a surge of anger rises in my chest. Here I am, on the verge of unraveling the mystery of Irma's egg-laying habits, the single greatest mystery in my life, and Lyra chooses this moment to interrupt? After everything she's done to me?

"Are you kidding me?" I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. "Now is really not the time, Lyra. Can't you see we're in the middle of something important?"

Lyra flinches at my tone. "But Jason, I’m p-"

"No," I cut her off, my frustration building. "Whatever it is, it can wait. This conversation," I gesture wildly at Irma, who's still standing frozen in shock, "is literally the most important thing that's ever happened in my life. I'm not going to let you ruin this moment."

Irma, apparently snapping out of her mortified trance, takes advantage of Lyra’s distraction to make a break for it. She bolts towards the door.

"Wait!" I call after her, torn between pursuing this egg mystery and dealing with Lyra's unwanted interruption. "You can't just drop that bomb and leave.” My voice softens to a whisper as the mystery grows.

Skye's brow furrows as she takes in the chaotic scene unfolding before her. Her gray eyes dart between Irma's retreating form, Lyra's tear-stained face, and my own conflicted expression. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Lyra." Skye says softly, her voice tinged with concern. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Lyra's single visible eye, brimming with tears, remains fixed on me. Her petite frame trembles as she takes a shaky step forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The tension in the room is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Erica's arms tighten around me possessively, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously as she regards Lyra. "I swear to god," she hisses, her voice low and menacing, "if you don't leave right now, I might actually kill you." The threat hangs in the air, electric and raw.

Lyra's single visible eye widens as she takes in the sight of Erica, her gaze traveling from the blonde's fierce blue eyes down to her possessive grip on me.

"I... I'm sorry," Lyra stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just... I'll go now." Her whole body deflates as she walks away.

“What do you think she wanted?” I ask Erica.

Erica stares at Lyra as she walks away, making sure she’s within a good distance before speaking. “She just wants to fuck up a good thing, the fucking cunt.”

Skye stares at Erica and me, but Nikki looks at her and speaks up on our behalf. “Don’t ask. It’s none of your business.”

‘Go queen.’ I can't help but think how much Nikki has changed since I met her.

*****

[Lyra’s POV]

I collapse onto the cold metal bench outside the school, my whole body shaking while I ball my eye out. The crisp late autumn air bites at my skin, but I barely notice, too consumed by the ache in my chest.

"He can't even look at me," I whisper, my voice trembling. "He said he forgave me, but he clearly hates me so much."

The memory of Jason's sharp words cuts through me like a knife. His eyes, once so warm and kind before we met, are now filled with anger and disgust when they meet mine. I can't blame him, not after what I did. The weight of my actions crushes me, threatening to suffocate me with every breath.

My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, still flat but holding a secret that terrifies me. I found out just yesterday. I’m pregnant with Jason's child. The irony is cruel and biting. “Would he want to meet our child? He’s not legally obligated to care about it, but some fathers want to be in all of their children’s lives.” I sigh.

With shaking hands, I pull out my phone and dial a number I was hoping not to use so soon. It rings once, twice, before a crisp, authoritative voice answers.

"Alicia Carter speaking."

I swallow hard, trying to steady my voice. "Ms. Carter, it's Lyra. I... I need to tell you something."

There's a pause heavy with unspoken tension. "Go on," she says, her tone clipped.

"I'm pregnant," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. "With Jason's child."

The silence that follows is deafening. I can almost hear the gears turning in Alicia's mind, calculating the potential fallout, the risk to her family's reputation.

When she finally speaks, her voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. "Get rid of it," she says flatly. "You are becoming a liability, Lyra. Do you have any idea of how much of a limb I went out on for you to keep you out of jail? If you keep that baby, I won’t be able to protect you anymore."

Horror washes over me, leaving me numb. I knew this was a possibility, but hearing it stated so bluntly made my blood run cold. My hand tightens protectively over my abdomen, even as my mind reels.

"I... I understand," I whisper, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I'll take care of it."

"Please do, Lyra," Alicia replies, and the line goes dead.

‘I really don’t know. Part of me want’s to raise it.’ I can’t help but think to myself how cute our kid would be.

I stare at the phone in my hand, feeling more alone than ever. Tears stream down my face, stinging the raw flesh around my empty eye socket, a constant reminder of the price of my actions.

As I try to calm myself down, wiping away the tears with trembling hands, I notice a figure approaching through my blurred vision. The autumn leaves crunch under her feet as she walks towards me, her silhouette gradually coming into focus.

She's of average height and build, with poorly dyed green hair that's growing out to reveal brown roots. Thick-rimmed glasses frame her hazel eyes, which are fixed on me with an intensity that makes me shift uncomfortably on the cold metal bench.

"Excuse me," she says, her voice filled with barely contained excitement. "Are you the girl who was friends with Lindsey Carter?"

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Lindsey's name. A wave of anxiety washes over me, and I feel my palms grow clammy. I tilt my head slightly, trying to appear casual despite the alarm bells ringing in my head.

"Who're you?" I managed to ask

The woman's face lights up, and she extends her hand enthusiastically. "Oh, sorry! I'm Anita Scoops. I run a podcast called 'Salem Sleuths.' We investigate local mysteries and untold stories."

I don't take her hand; instead, I wrap my arms tighter around myself. Anita doesn't seem deterred by my lack of response. She continues, her words tumbling out in a rush of excitement.

"I've been researching the Carter family, and your face came up in a lot of instagram pics."

I remain silent, my mind racing. How much does she know? What is she after? Anita leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know Jason, would you? Jason Parker?"

At the mention of Jason's name, something inside me snaps. My face becomes a blank mask, all emotion draining away as if someone had flipped a switch. I stare at Anita, my single eye boring into her with an intensity that makes her take a step back.

"Why are you asking about Jason?" I ask, my voice flat and devoid of any inflection.

In the recesses of my mind, a dark thought begins to form. ‘Does she want to hurt my Jason? Is she a threat?’ My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, a protective gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Anita's keen eyes.

"Oh, I'm just curious," Anita says, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the gleam of interest in her eyes. "I think... I think Jason might have killed Lindsey Carter."

The words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily breathless. ‘How the fuck did she figure it out so quickly?’ I wonder.

"What makes you say that?" I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Anita's eyes dart around as if checking for eavesdroppers before she continues. "Isn't it crazy how one minute Jason being missing was the only thing you'd see on the local news, but suddenly he's back at school, and all the stories of him being missing are suddenly gone? Poof! Just like that!"

I feel my heart rate quicken, knowing all too well why Jason had been "missing." The guilt of what I'd done to him threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced it down, maintaining my mask of neutrality.

"And then there's Lindsey," Anita continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "She suddenly killed herself right around the time Jason came back. Don't you think that's suspicious?"

‘She’s so close, but she has it so wrong.’ I stare at Anita as I process.

"I don't have all the pieces yet," Anita admits, her hazel eyes gleaming with excitement behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "But I can feel it in my gut. There's something dark about Jason Parker, something... evil. Men like him always love ruining strong women."

The word 'evil' echoes in my mind, and I feel a surge of protective anger rising within me. How dare she make such accusations? She doesn't know Jason, doesn't understand what he's been through, what I put him through.

My face transforms, a warm smile spreading across my features as if the previous conversation had never happened. I lean in towards Anita, my voice taking on a conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? You're right. There is something... off about Jason," I whisper, watching Anita's eyes widen with excitement. "And I think I might be able to help you with your investigation."

Anita's face lights up like a child on Christmas morning. "Really? Oh my god, this is amazing!" she exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

I nod, my smile never wavering. "Of course. After all, I used to be Lindsey's maid. I know all sorts of things about her, things nobody else knows." I pause for dramatic effect, watching Anita hang on my every word. "And Jason... well, let's just say I know quite a bit about their relationship too."

Anita's glasses slide down her nose as she leans in closer, her poorly dyed green hair falling into her face. "This is incredible." she breathes, her voice trembling with barely contained excitement. "Would you be willing to do an interview for my podcast?"

I pretend to consider for a moment, then nod slowly. "You know what? Why don't we go to my apartment? We can talk more freely there, and I have some... evidence that might interest you."

Anita's eyes grow impossibly wider. "Evidence? Oh my god, yes! Let's go right now!" She fumbles in her pocket, pulling out a set of car keys. "I can drive us. My car's just over there."

As we walk towards her beat-up sedan, I smile to myself, my mind already racing with possibilities. The crisp autumn air feels invigorating, and I breathe it in deeply, savoring the moment.

"This is going to be so great," Anita chatters as we climb into her car. The interior smells of stale coffee and air freshener, and empty energy drink cans litter the floor. "I can't wait to hear everything you know."

I smile at her, nodding along to her excited ramblings as she pulls out of the parking lot. As we drive through the winding streets of Salem, my mind wanders to more practical concerns. My apartment is on the first floor. No cameras in sight. Edge of town. ‘I’ll use the tea again.’

I sigh softly, my gaze drifting out the window to the nearly-dead autumn leaves swirling in our wake. Disposing of a body is never easy, especially on such short notice. But as I glance at Anita, still talking animatedly about her theories, I know it's necessary. ‘For Jason. For our child. Plus, getting rid of her will at least help me get back on Alicia’s good side.’

"Everything okay?" Anita asks, noticing my momentary distraction.

I turn to her with a bright smile. "Oh yes, everything's perfect. I was just wondering if you like tea.”

“I’m more of a whiskey girl.” She says mischievously.

“Sounds good.” I thank god I’ve been drinking so much lately due to my anxiety. For he has made this easier.

‘If I do this for him, will he offer his body to me?’ I can’t help but wonder in the back of my mind with a tinge of excitement.