She grunts as I push my full weight into the handle, sinking into her body below the barrier of her rib cage. I slowly push the knife deeper when she stumbles forward, the thin blade flexing beneath my weight. Her hands are pale as she shakily holds onto the fridge shelves to keep herself standing while I smile, twisting the knife.
“You took my baby away from me.” I twist again in the other direction. “Twice. You took them out of my arms, then you took them away when I thought they were safe.”
Her clammy hand reaches for mine, pressed against her back, but she’s too weak as I step back to make my food while her blood soaks through her dress. It’s on my hand too, but this is the most serene I’ve ever felt. I take another knife, a clean one, to slice the cooked chicken into thin strips as she falls to her knees with her head in the fridge. I step around her to get the bread on the counter, humming to myself. Taking out a slice of bread, I set it on the chopping board, looking for the butter bell that’s usually on the counter. I find it on the other side then continue constructing my sandwich between reachingover Helene’s slowly dying body to take out condiments from the fridge while it beeps.
The beeping disturbs my humming as I place another slice on top of my finished sandwich. Her head is on the second to bottom shelf, a puddle of blood under her, her arms outstretched. Her eyes are closed, and I don’t want the food to spoil since I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I suppose I should allow her mother to see her dead body before I kill that cunt too. Her lover-son too. I wonder if he’ll mourn for his mother, or will he die of a broken heart because the little mommy’s boy can’t fuck her anymore?
Once the bottom two shelves are empty, I remove the glass partitions, setting them on the table before I pick up Helene’s ankles to fold her into the space I created. Blood coats my hands as the uncooperative cunt attempts to escape by remaining rigid. I have to push my hand against her shoulder to keep her in place before quickly pulling the door closed as I snatch it back. But she clatters into the jars in the door while it remains firmly in place.
The beeping finally stops, leaving me with the blood on the floor as my task for another day, so I pick up my sandwich. I turn, grabbing her stick resting on the edge of the table with my free hand as I take a bite.
My hum turns to a whistle as I twirl the stick on my way out of the house. I give in to the urge to jump in the air to click my heels together as I push the serpent end of the stick into the ground. Only, the fucker wobbles and I nearly fall. Instinct forces me to look around when there’s no one here to see me as I continue walking like I didn’t fuck up. I don’t even know where I’m going as I walk down a set of steep stairs while eating.
As soon as I stand in front of the gates, my hand falls.
My knees are the next thing to crumble as the calm waters brush the sides of the raised platform. I drop my sandwich to gently stroke the ground where my baby once walked.
Red. My hands are red.
Because I killed her for hurting them.
My tears still burn as I weakly smile at the sea.
“Look at me now, baby. Are you proud of me?” I crawl forward on my knees to grip the rough bars of the gates as I push my face against them. “I never would have hurt you. I’m not good at love, but I think I did love you. I tried to get you away from them. I don’t know if I would have kept you. I do know I would never have let them hurt you.”
The flaking paint scrapes my cheeks as I continue hugging the bars.
“I’m sorry. I’m not a good person, or clever. But I tried to save you. I would have made sure you have a nice mom, one who’s the opposite of me. Clever and kind. Everything I’m not. She would have read you bedtime stories and sang you lullabies. I hope you never knew I existed. You deserved better than I gave you. I’m sorry.”
46
KANE
Lennox has been quieter than usual in the last few weeks. Every time I mention him visiting Delilah again so he can give her a phone, he shuts down. I don’t know if he’s avoiding being there while Rowan is since that fucker disappeared around the same time, but I sit in the security room, watching the captives enter the large, tiled room to shower.
“Did you think about what I said?” I ask, carefully picking my words to stop anyone else from knowing about my pleas to see Delilah after we visit Niko tomorrow.
He ignores me as he stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. I watch him put on his mask, hiding the blankest expression I’ve ever seen. Sasha doesn’t react to it as she eats her snacks on the other side of the desk.
Once we’re alone, I ask her, “Don’t you ever give your stomach a rest?”
“I’m hungry,” she snaps, protectively pulling her bag of meat closer like I have any interest in eating human flesh while she watches the captives shower, laughing along with them.
“How are you so thin when all you do is eat?”
She quickly lifts her boney shoulders, dropping them just as quickly. I mute the captives’ confessions of love to ask, “How old are you?”
“Today? Fifteen.”
Holy fuck, she’s young. Too young to be here. With that knowledge, I soften my voice as I continue interrogating her. “How long have you been here?”
She pauses with her fingers in her mouth, sucking the blood off them as she hums before she says, “Here?” She gestures to the room. “Since I was six, but they let me stay as long as I help them.”
Okay, we’re getting somewhere. I don’t fucking know where but it’s more information than I had earlier.
“Did you own this building?” I hit the control for the water when the man sways on his feet. He’s a hardheaded fuck when he’s in the room, always refusing to take the water he’s offered, but the woman forces him to drink on the days they shower so I check the cameras for the other guards to make sure they don’t see them.
“I didn’t own anything,” Sasha whispers as she scrunches her bag up in her fist. “I had to live here before Lennox found me.”
