Chapter Thirteen
Worthy
Iend the evil, so the good can live in peace.
It sounded so simple, but I was sure there was a story there.
“How did you decide to become this avenging angel?”
There was a slight hesitation, then Crow answered, “My father was a brilliant businessman. He was the son of a Soviet immigrant who started with nothing and became a multimillionaire. He was brutal in business and his real life. I think he killed my mother, but it was never proven. They ruled it an accidental drowning. In the bathtub.”
Crow sounded so far away now, lost in thought. I wanted to give him some comfort but hesitated. He looked younger all of a sudden and a little unsure. I didn’t want to intrude on his story, so I stayed still.
“I was too young to remember her, but Marta would tell me stories. My mother was sweet and loved me more than anything she would tell me. The stories helped when I was recovering from my latest beating. My father would get drunk or high, sometimes both, and take out all of his frustrations from the day on me. Marta tried to help, but I refused to let her become a target, too. She was too small and frail, even then, to take the blows from his meaty fists.”
He was lost in his memory, tapping his foot on the rock faster and faster the more he talked. I scooted over to him, touching his hand lightly to let him know I was there. He jumped, obviously having forgotten he had company. I moved closer to him on the rock, sitting almost hip to hip, and softly lay my hand on his thigh with a little squeeze. It was a subtle gesture, but I hoped he felt the comforting intent.
“I dealt with that shit until I was a teenager. I hit a growth spurt and suddenly I was almost the same size as the asshole. One day, not long after my fifteenth birthday, he said he had seen me kissing one of the boys who helped with our lawn. He started screaming he would never allow a faggot to live with his last name. All of a sudden he was quoting the Old Testament and threatening to kill me and the boy I was kissing so no one would ever find out his son was a fag. That very night, I took the hunting knife Jeremiah had given me for my birthday and put a slit in my father’s throat when he passed out in his office. Marta came in as I was doing it. She didn’t stop me, just helped me cover the wound, so it didn’t bleed in the room, and we threw him down the main staircase, making sure one of his crystal glasses broke near him and a piece of the glass lodged in his wound.”
“My, God, Crow. You were so young. Did they investigate it? You could have been in prison for the rest of your life.”
“The cops knew him, knew what kind of man he was, so they didn’t really care. There was a cursory investigation, but not much effort went into it. Not even his work associates cared he was gone because he was such a bastard. In the end, the cops just shook my hand and ruled it an accident. From that day forward, Marta was my guardian and adoptive mother. She and Jeremiah came to live in the mansion with me, and we became a family. Seeing the change in our lives, just by eliminating that evil asshole, was a lightbulb moment for me. I felt like it was my job to eliminate the evil in the world, so all the good people could live happier, more peaceful lives.”
“Jesus, Crow. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. I’m glad you found a way out, though. You’re such a survivor.”
Crow put his hand on top of mine. He curled his fingers around mine and squeezed until we were holding hands, fingers intertwined. Staring down at where we were linked, he replied, “We’re both survivors, Worthy.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“Yeah, I guess we are, aren’t we?”
Still looking down at our hands, Crow moved his thumb, so he was caressing my skin over and over again. It was funny how so small a gesture could feel so significant.
“I like hurting the people I’m hired to hurt, Worthy. I pretend I’m good, but I’m not. I’m not good like you. I’ve become the evil I vowed to kill.”
Crow squeezed my hand so tight I felt my bones grinding together. I didn’t protest because I knew he needed this moment, but he was kidding himself if he thought I would let him get away with thinking this bullshit.
“Crow, look at me.”
He didn’t respond at first, so I repeated myself.
“Crow, look at me, now.”
He finally looked at me, and I gave him the truth as I saw it.
“You’re the farthest thing from evil I know. I’ve lived with evil. I know it intimately. I enjoyed some of the horrible things he did to me. Does that make me bad, too?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then, what you just said is bullshit. You’re a bit of a sadist, I’ll admit, but that’s okay. Do you get a thrill from actually killing these people?”
Crow drew his head back and looked horrified.
“No!” he immediately responded. After a pause, he continued, “I really don’t feel much of anything. By that time they’ve confessed what they’ve done wrong, and I’ve decided they don’t deserve to be here anymore. It’s just a job at that point.”
I squeezed his hand in mine and smiled.
“You see? You’re not a serial killer. You’re doing a job, and you’re good at it. What do you enjoy? Making them confess?”
