Ben shakes her off and straightens his collar. “See? See what you made me do?” Because it’s always her fault, isn’t it?
Elijah begins to laugh, his shoulders shaking while he drools blood down the front of his shirt.
“What the fuck are you laughing about?” Ben says.
“Go on,” Elijah says, struggling to stand. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Ben, don’t!” Sarah cries, but he ignores her. He grabs Elijah by the front of his shirt, half-lifting him off the armchair, and punches him again.
When Elijah staggers to his feet, eyes shining, he asks, “Do you hear the screaming?” and she’s not sure if he’s asking her or Ben. “Do you?”
“You little freak,” Ben snarls, clamping his hands around Elijah’s neck.
“Don’t touch him!” Sarah grabs at Ben again, but he shoulders her backward, sending her tumbling over the coffee table. She grunts as she hits the floor, stars exploding behind her eyes. The vase tips off the edge and rolls across the plastic runners, spilling dried grass everywhere.
Elijah makes a horrible choking sound as he claws helplessly at Ben’s shoulders. He’s ripped off the gauze but can’t do anything else. The bubble of terror behind Sarah’s ribs pops. Ben can’t hurt Elijah, not when he’s been hurt so much already. She struggles to her feet, snatches up the vase in both hands, and smashes it over Ben’s head.
Ben lets go of Elijah and puts a hand to his temple, gaping with disbelief as it comes away red.
The disbelief quickly twists into fury. “This has gone on far enough,” he thunders. He seizes Sarah’s wrist, the one he already left his mark on. She hisses from the pain as he yanks her toward him. The roar battering her eardrums is so loud she’s afraid they’ll burst. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Why are you treating me this way? What have I done to deserve?—”
Elijah splashes Ben’s coffee into his face. Ben releases Sarah, and she crashes back to the floor.
Ben swears, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “You little shit,” he growls, shoving Elijah over the coffee table.
Elijah drops the mug and tumbles onto the broken pottery. Ben starts to kick him. “You think you can—”Kick.“Take her—”Kick.
Elijah curls into a ball and keens in a high-pitched voice, suddenly transformed into the little boy whose dad was always a bit rough. A dark and molten fever floods across Sarah’s skin.
“Away—”Kick. “From?—”
The thudding in Sarah’s eardrums is unbearable. She gropes for the side table and as she pulls herself up, her hand skims over the decorative antlers, just the right size for her fingers to curve around.
“Me.”Kick.
The pressure in her ears detonates, and she swings the antlers as hard as she can. She swings and when she pulls back, the antlers catch on something, and when she tugs, blood sprays all over her as she almost falls backward again. Ben clutches the side of his neck like he did that morning she fled the apartment, his eyes bulging in surprise.
This time she didn’t miss an artery.
And because the sight of Ben’s face makes her sick, even if it’s smeared with blood and shock, she regains her balance and swings a second time, and a third, screaming herself raw because no one can hear you scream out here.
She screams until she becomes conscious of a body behind hers, slim but strong. Long, cool fingers cover hers, and she registers the slickness of the antlers in her hands. “Sarah,” Elijah says gently. “You can stop now.”
Ben gurgles in a glossy puddle on the sofa. She pants furiously, tasting his blood on her lips, and it just enrages her that even as he’s dying, he’s pushing part of himself, unwanted, on her body.
Elijah pries the antlers out of her grip and sets them on the sofa beside Ben.
“Were you really getting married?” His left eye is starting to swell, but it’s still bright and curious.
“No, that was another one of his lies. Oh God. I didn’t mean to?—”
Yes, she did.
“I would’ve done the same,” he says.
“Are you okay?” She reaches out and touches Elijah’s cheek, leaving a streak of red.
He grins, revealing bloodied teeth. “I’ve had worse. Areyouokay? How do you feel?”
