“I swear to God, I have the money,” he cried.
I turned back to the table, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t know if it was from his words or the rush of the situation, but I welcomed anything that wasn’t that black fog. If I could just learn how to control it like I controlled my panic, I could get back to my normal life. I could regain my control.
I finally found the letter opener and quickly used it to open slice open the envelope.
Lucy snapped.
The man screamed.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Everett sang, pulling my attention back to find their position had changed. Now the man was facing me, Everett was behind him, a knife to his throat, his hand aroundthe back of Tommy’s neck, blood soaking his pants where Lucy had torn in quickly before letting go.
My brows furrowed. I turned back to the envelope, my curiosity growing, my heart skipping. What was so terrible that he didn’t want us knowing about?
Reaching in, I pulled out a few pictures. Polaroids. Names and dates on the back.
I flipped them over and I felt that thing inside of me flare painfully as my hand tightened around the letter opener.
Children. They were pictures of children.
It happened so fast, the black flooding over my eyes and suddenly, I was back in that room. Morris was pinning me to the wall, his hands going where I didn’t want them, his cock pushing into me, the pain, the horror, the absolute, blood chilling fear.
The pictures slipped from my hand in slow motion, and I turned, the roaring growing in my ears, my skin on fire, my heart slamming painfully.
I saw nothing, felt nothing, heardnothing, but him. All that mattered was ripping his soul from this world.
“Olivia.”
I froze, staring into a pair of icy blue unblinking eyes, my heart stuttering, my grip on the weapon only tightening.
“It’s me, pup. Come back,” he instructed carefully, his voice as steady as ever.
My nails dug into his throat, that letter opener pressed into his carotid artery, my mind sparking in confusion.
Kill.
Stop.
Kill him!
No, please, wait.
He’s a threat.
He’s Everett. He’sEverett.
The black fog disappeared fully, revealing to me what I had done.
I gasped, releasing the letter opener and stumbling back a few steps, my hands shaking, my eyes wide, horror filling me.
“Olivia,” he tried, remaining right where he was. On his knees, blood dripping from the small hole in his neck, from the bloody handprint that I had left.
What the fuck have I done?
My head whipped around, taking in Tommy, dead on the ground. His stomach had been cut open, his guts pouring from him, his heart with fingernail marks pressed into it. He had deep gouges along the arteries of each arm, and his eyes. Where were his eyes.
The sound of chewing found my ears and I tracked the sound, my jaw dropping as Lucy ate his eyes. I slid my hands over my head, turning back to Everett. What the fuck have I done?
“It’s okay,” he assured me. “It’s okay, we have people, remember.”
