Sniffling, she stutters again, “Okay….” The fear is still evident in her tiny voice, but Sophie fights to be strong anyway.
Pointing toward the closet, Bunny orders, “I need you to take your pillow and blanket and go hide in there. Okay?” When she’s sure Sophie is hanging onto her every word, Bunny continues, “And no matter what you hear, you don’t come out. Just put the pillow over your head…and go to sleep. Can you do that for us, Sophie? Can you be brave for us?”
In the dark, Sophie sits back and stares intently, hanging onto our every word. I was always told that the best judges of character were animals and children, that somehow their intuition is heightened to a level that can determine if someone is good or bad. What a load of shit I used to believe. I was never around kids, and my father detested animals, so it’s not like I could actually prove the theory. But here is Sophie, admitting Lakens is a piece of shit and deciding, ultimately, to trust us.
Taking all the comforts of her bed, she slides from the mattress and tucks herself into a ball on the floor of her closet, eyeing us for a long breath until the door clicks closed. Bunny and I sit for a moment, watching and waiting, astounded that of all people, this little girl has put her trust in two strangers who have just broken into her home.
Seething, I finger the blade in my pocket, wishing to do nothing more but gut the man in the next room. “She can barely fucking talk.”
“When has that ever mattered…” Bunny murmurs, beneath her breath, to no one but her and her alone. I’m reminded then of all she’s had to endure, and I question, did it start when she could barely form a sentence as well?
Murderous at the thought, I stand, holding my hand out to bring Bunny to her feet. She takes my palm and delicately wraps her fingers around mine. Momentarily, I’m brought back to our conversation from last night, and I think of a day in the future, when we can hold hands without worry. Maybe we’ll be two people at ease and not surrounded by bricks of pain. But until we reach that moment in time, I carry Sophie on my sleeve, vowing to avenge her as well.
Bunny.
Clara.
Max.
The twins.
Sophie.
And me… along with countless others.
Repeating their names in my head, I push the bedroom door open, grateful for the silent hinges. Obvious in my disgust, I scoff at the strewn-about sexual paraphernalia. Kicking shit to the side, I’m glad that we were able to get Sophie to hide in the closet. The last thing a kid needs to see is their mother’s fucking collection of dildoes thrown on the ground.
Letting the rage bubble, I release Bunny’s hand and stand beside Lakens’s snoring body. Staring down at his open mouth, I think of how easy it would be to take my blade and shove it down his exposed windpipe. Would he feel my fist in his mouth first? Or would I be able to tear through the rings of his trachea before he could stop me? The idea is tempting. I’ve always beenexperimental, but then something else catches my attention instead.
“Hey,” I call, motioning for Bunny’s attention. When I have it, I toss over what I found, her new toy.
Uncle Harris loved his billy club. Whether it was to scare the animals into submission or beat me until the welts on my back were as hard as the baton, he fucking loved flashing it at all times. I think of him as I toss the heavy stick over to Bunny. I have no desire to wield the same weapon.
She admires it for a moment, gazing at the club with a sort of depraved glee. I don’t give a shit, though. Look at the spark in her eyes. When I see her bring it over her shoulder, fingers flexing and releasing, preparing to swing, I move out of her way. She’s watched me fight, I don’t know how many times. I’m excited to see what she’s like unleashed.
And it’s fucking glorious.
The first swing struck him in the center of the chest, and it was nice to hear his gasp of pain, but the second strike? My fucking God,I think I’m in love.Right there on the edge of his forehead, narrowly missing the fragile bone around his eye socket, his skin splits, blood immediately pouring down his face. When his screaming is loud enough to shake the walls, I prepare my blade to settle my previous curiosity, but Bunny beats me to it, ramming the baton into his gut instead.
“How does that feel?” she snarls, teeth bared, eyes wild, spit dotting the corner of her lips. I want to lick it up—taste the beast inside her—but the need for Lakens to see her is too strong to ignore. Pulling on the lamp string, I brighten the space, hoping to see the instant recognition on his face. His wife doesn’t grant me the opportunity.
Sprinting from the bed, she darts to the door, forcing me from my front-row seat.
“No,” I hiss, catching her around the waist, “you can’t run away just yet.” Her flailing body is no issue, but when she goes to bite my arm, I send her soaring, bouncing dangerously close to the edge of the bed.
She begins shrieking, “We don’t have anything for you! Leave!” She repeats that until she finds her footing, and then she fumbles on her side, checking on her wounded husband. She eyes us as well, malice dripping from her snarl.
Bunny, with her knuckles white from her grip, sneers in return. “You’re wrong,” she spits, “you have exactly what I need.”
“W-What?” This time, it’s Lakens who joins in, confusion lacing his muffled tone. “What do you—” but then he stops, finally getting it. “How thefuckdid you get here?” he sputters around the baton, rage tangling his words. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
But my girl, she’s in a playful mood. “Shhh,” she whispers, thrusting the club against the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to fucking hear you.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?!” the wife shouts next, a little braver than before. Bunny turns to look at her, with a look so unhinged that I feel the need to take a step back.
In a voice so low, it’s chilling, Bunny utters, “I want your husband.” Pushing the club in deeper, “I want him to feel what I did.” A little harder now. “I want to pay him back for all he gave me.”
“Fuck you!” Lakens roars, choking on the club, but it’s his wife that I’m focused on, her face, falling with worry.
