“What the fuck are you…” he blinks at me and shakes his head before going on. “You killed my father.There’s nothing subjective about that, you psycho. What the hell are you doing here? Stalking me?”
I look down from the moon and flick a finger at him. “Stalking you? That’d be a reverse uno for you, wouldn’t it?” I bark out a bitter laugh and cross my arms.
My words hit their mark. Brian draws himself up and tries to look bigger than he is, but he’s flustered. Bullseye. Direct hit, Maris.
“They never proved any of that shit was me,” he says, because Brian has utterly convinced himself that anything he’s done wrong is excusable because his dad is dead. Big fucking whoop.
Join the club.
We all have dead dads around here.
“I really don’t give a shit what they found. Just like I don’t give a shit about what you do.”
Brian’s lip curls in disgust. “Then what are you doing here, Maris?”
Maris.
I jerk back like he slapped me when he says my name. “I-I…” My voice trails off. I’m surprised he said my name. Normally it’s bitch or psycho, murderer, whatever strikes his family’s fancy when we run into each other in town. For a second, the anger in me wavers, like a flame in the wind, and it almost goes out. I almost turn on my heel and walk right out of Mariner’s Rest, content to spend another night at home alone with Isla and drinking myself to sleep.
I swallow hard, my sharp edges starting to crack. “I,” I start again but that’s as far as I get before Brian pours gasoline on the embers of my anger.
“Oh, that’s right, your worthless parents died today, didn’t they? You fucking orphan.” He gives me a mean smile. It feels like a knife sliding between my ribs. “You’re lucky they died before they saw what you became. They would have welcomed my dad if they had. Would have let him fucking slit their throats like he should have to get away from you.”
The rage of that night pushes itself out of me like thorns rooted in my bones. It slices my skin and forces itself free until I’m razor sharp. A knowing. I felt this before, but only once.
I felt like this the night I killed Mike Sheep.
Everything around Brian and I slows down just like it did that night. The wind fades away, there’s no more rustling of leaves or the odd chitter of a bat flying overhead. My rage is quiet, it’s still, it’s all consuming, screaming like a starvingghoul, fingers reaching, maw open and teeth snapping for something new to chew.
I’m going to eat Brian alive.
“Is that right?” I smile. I bare my teeth and push away from the statue to walk towards him. My smile is a weapon, a fucking warning of what’s about to happen. We both know it.
“I said,is that right?”
Brian’s eyes shoot from my mouth to my eyes. “I-yes,” he manages to get out. “That’s right, bitch.”
“And you really think your limp dick dad had it in him to kill anyone?” I ask Brian. I’m goading him to right where I want him. I’m ready for whatever comes. I made my decision the second I snuck up on him but Brian is still coming to terms with it. I should help him along. It’ll make things neater if we’re on the same page. “Because I gotta tell you, I don’t think he did, and if anyone would know what your dear old dad was capable of, it would be me, right?”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Ohhh, did I hit a nerve, Brian? You okay? Do you need to go get mommy? I bet if you call now you can catch her before last call and she can come rescue you.” I throw out my hands and make a shocked face. “Oh! Wait a minute. No, we can’t do that, can we? Because if you do, I’ll fucking kill her too.”
“Fuck you!”
“Make you an orphan just like me, Brian!”
He lunges first.
It’s a wild lunge, all emotion and no strategy but Brian is dumb as fuck and I made him mad on purpose. But why? The thought comes to me while Brian rushes past me and hits the statue I was just standing in front of him. I side step him and bring my foot down on the back of his head. His face smashes into the ground with athwack.
But why?
Why are you doing this, Maris?
“Because I can,” I snarl. I kick him this time, right in the jaw and he jerks to the side. He’s dazed from the way he’s moaning and trying to get his hands under him but he can’t quite manage it. “You fucking asshole. Did you think this was a game?” I kick him again. I want to hurt him. I want him to know what it feels like to bleed, to ache, to feel like you’re dying and still live. I want Brian to suffer. The world might not make him but that’s okay. I’ll do what the world fucked up. Not just for me, but for the women he’s terrified. I’m going to make him cry. He’s going to beg, just like he made them. Every police report and story I’ve written about Brian starts to flash in front of me.
I circle the fucker and bring my foot down again. “You think you can get away with whatever you want, don’t you? That you can make me pay for what he did? What he did to me?”
