“You know what,” she snarls, “but if you need to hear the words, why do youfuckchildren? Why do youtorturethem? You have a wife, the looks to screw whoever you want, and enough money to pay for every hooker you pass. So whychildren?” She asks again, “Why me?”
Silence. Then a loud slap followed by the crunching of teeth.
“Why.Me?”
Weeping, Williams sags, hiccupping a broken and weak excuse. “I’m sick! I’m sick! I’m sick! I can’t stop myself! I’m sorry!”
He folds and wraps his arms around Bunny’s torso, sobbing into her chest while she freezes under his touch. She stares back at me, with skin turning green. I can’t tell if she’s sick or scared. I want to reach out, just a touch, to remind her I’m here.I can save you.But Bunny doesn’t need me. She hasn’t since she first arrived.
I don’t see her hand move at first, only a slight jerk of her shoulder, but the sounds are hard to ignore. Underneath his screams, the squelching of his cock turning to mush is undeniable. Even I sit back, stomach cramping at the sight. When the pulp begins to ooze out of the sliced fabric, Bunny stabs freely, hitting high and low until the entirety of her is stained red. The slickened knife goes flying, hitting the car’s carpet with a thud.
Speechless, I sit and stare as her back heaves with heavy sighs. She remains forward, gazing at the work she’s done—at the person she’s reduced to tissue and bone. Slowly, her head dips, examining the chunks and gristle sticking to her.
“Well, fuck,” she hisses, jumping from his leaking body. Bunny falls and crashes into the front seat, hands in front of her face. I wait for her to say something, unsure if this is another panic attack like after Colette or something else. “I think I’m a monster.”
Of all the things she could ever be, that will never be one of them. And if it was, “And whose fault is that?” I kiss her maroon-painted fingers, eyes shifting to the blob in the back. After all, it’s his own fault Bunny came after him. It seems to bring her some comfort, enough to rest her head against the window.
When I put the car back in gear and drive us through the darkened, deserted alleys, Bunny peers up. “Where are we going?”
“Well, we can’t sit there with you looking like that and him…” Fuck. Likethat. I’ll find us somewhere nice to hole up. There are tons of developing buildings. One of them has to have running water and a flat ground to sleep on.
I’m scanning our options when Bunny says, “I want this done.”
My stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”
Shifting in the seat, Bunny sits straight, back pressing so far into the leather I think she might sink. “I mean,” she sighs, “I find a sliver of peace with every one of them gone. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit, not needing to lie. “I can breathe withtheirblood on my hands.”
“We only have one left—onlyonewhoreallymatters,” she purrs, looking sinister and breathtaking beneath the lights. “We could bedone,” she proclaims, “we can feel full again… we can gohome. We just need one more.”
Only one.
Damn… I can’t believe we really fucking did this.
Only one.
I chew on her words, letting the realization hit me we’re nearly done. “And then we can rest?” I confirm, hope blossoming into a lazy smile.
Mhm, she nods. “Until the end.”
It’s Over
CADE
“You’ve been here before?” Bunny stands in front of a tall, melancholy statue, her gaze somber. I let her take whatever time she needs, occasionally checking the street to make sure no one comes near the car. We left the driver on the floor of the back seat, piled on top of Williams' messy form.
I doubt anyone will see him down there in the dark. Still, we’ve come so far.
“You ready?”
She takes my hand and leads us on, not a hiccup or hitch in her step as we climb the pearly stairs to the front door. It opens without resistance. A warning? Or does he really believe he’s untouchable? Together, as we walk hand-in-hand, we’ll make sure he understands just how vulnerable he really is.
The grand entryway echoes with our footsteps, continuing even after we’ve stopped in the center. I can’t deny it; I stare in awe at the dazzling design, but with every piece of gold and crystal I spot, I’m reminded of what it took to get here.
I wonder how many lives it took to get that chandelier alone. How much blood was shed for the diamond-like marble I’m stepping on?
I wonder if it’ll all be worth it in the end.
