“I will with your fat ass on my back. Move.”
Daigon pushes his foot deeper into the stones as Delilah steps forward.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I rush out.
She flinches at my tone, but I didn’t go through all this shit for her to fucking kill us. I’ll take death, welcome it with theknowledge she’s safe with her sisters, but I can’t be the one to watch her die.
I have to grit my teeth as the snake continues crawling up my leg. It’s getting close to Scarlet’s foot, so I hit her harder with the harsh bristles. “Move. Now.”
Digging the rounded edge of the broom into the ground for stability, I wait for her to crawl over my back. She stretches out, allowing Daigon to drag her the rest of the way as she presses her feet into my spine.
“Get the hose.” He drops her at the front door as he warns me, “Don’t move.”
“No shit,” I scoff.
Staring at the ground full of snakes is disconcerting when I can’t feel my leg. The one crawling up my body is hissing as it stretches its head around my thigh to fucking look at me. But Daigon leans over and carefully presses his fingers under the tail at my ankle, repeating, “Do not move.”
My foot tingles from the restricted blood flow as he carefully unwinds the snake. The head is still right fucking there but it loosens. I don’t think I’m breathing. My heart isn’t even beating as he manages to free my leg then throws the snake into the field, away from the animals that have run to the distant fencing.
Slowly raising to his full height, he takes the hose from Scarlet, adding the clicks to all the noise as he sets it on the highest pressure before spraying a harsh line at my feet, clearing the path as the snakes quickly slither away from the water.
I leap forward with the broomstick pushing deeper into the ground and my dead leg dragging behind me. Without thought, breath, or fucking sanity, I wrap my arms around Delilah. She clings to me just as tightly, her fingers digging into my spine, muffling her cries in my chest.
After leaving Ruby’s house,we stay in the penthouse of someone Daigon knows. I can’t remember the drive with Delilah on my thigh and my face buried in the crook of her neck. Or anything other than the million ways I’m going to fucking kill Helene. Everything comes back to her. There’s not a single point of my life she’s allowed to be untouched.
Even my conception was hijacked by her twisted ways. My childhood, shaped by the fear she instilled into my only mother. There wasn’t ever going to be a choice about how I’d turn out. It was always going to be in this filthy, perverted world she created.
The others are all in their rooms after Scarlet sent me away when the withdrawals fully kicked in. It hit me then, my wife throwing up with her hair falling into her path, and I couldn’t hold the strands back while holding her.
I look down at my limp left sleeve as I stand on the wraparound balcony.
Is this what it’s always going to be like?
I’ll have moments when it physically hurts not to be able to do something. All those little things that have meaning, like holding my wife’s face with both hands, holding her hand while I drive, feeling her warmth on both palms. I’ll never experience them again. The worst part is that every single fucking time I’m reminded of it, I’m forced to remember the pain of not having my wife, being trapped. It’s not an injury with a physical recovery. I’ll adjust over time, the phantom limb syndrome should lessen, but the mental shit? That’s not fucking going anywhere.
Smoke is still clinging to the air as I take out a fresh cigarette and lean forward to cover the flame of my lighter with thepartition to light it. Straightening up, I look at the starless sky as I take out my phone. This is another thing I can’t do one-handed. But I try, uncaring about the ash falling onto my chest as I dial Sasha’s number. The line trills for too long before the beep comes. I whisper, “Hey, little one. I miss you. I’m fucking scared. Your crazy ass better be alive, or I’ll kill you myself. Do me a favor, call me back. Please. I just need to know you’re okay.”
Walking to the corner of the balcony, I lean against the wall, holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder so I’m not mumbling around the toxic stick in my mouth.
“We’re going to travel the world, remember? Even though I hate you a little for leaving me. I’ll forgive you when you come back. Just come back. I don’t want to lose you too.” I drag in a deep breath. “Have you had anything to eat? Where are you sleeping? Fuck, you can’t answer me, it’s a voicemail. Answer your fucking phone.”
I end the call before my anger can fully take over and go back to watching the deep navy-blue sky as I add clouds to it. Life has a way of continuously fucking with me by only ever allowing me one thing at a time in the most distorted way possible.
While my parents were alive, I thought they hated me. I didn’t give a fuck when they were dying, but now they’re dead, I know it wasn’t true.
While Asher was alive, I wanted to have a brother. I wanted a family, but I didn’t realize how twisted he was until I was older. A six-year-old only knows their experiences as normal, so I thought everything was happening like it should be. I was the problem because it hurt when he dismissed me. But he died and I?—
“Got me fully.”
Then I finally had Delilah to myself, only to be fueled by misplaced hate. I had her again, she hated me. I have her now, she’s not really here. There was a moment when I waspretending to be Asher that I doubted my plan. It was after she left the hospital. I showed her the photos I’d doctored to sell the lie of our life, where I imagined becoming him to get our chance to be together. If I’d done that, we’d still be in that house. The adjoining building would be her art studio or some shit to keep her happy.
I look over the balcony railing, wondering if I should leave now. The common denominator in every situation is me, so if I literally take the plunge, it goes away.
“My wife is allowing you to stay,” Daigon says as he steps out onto the balcony.
I go back to leaning against the wall. “Thanks.”
He slides the door closed and asks, “Were you a mask or a subject?”
