Kaya lifts a shoulder. “Eh, who knows? I’ll let you know once I see how you end up handling Simmons. Speaking of which…”
“Yes?”
“You want to torture him first, right?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good, then here’s some advice.”
“Is it free?”
Kaya snorts. “I’ll send you an invoice. Anyway, you have no knowledge on how to torture people right.”
“I think I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will,” she pauses, taking a right turn, following the navigation. “But one mistake, and boom, he’s dead before you’re satisfied. So, avoid this area,” she trails her index finger over the side of her neck, dragging it below her jaw, “if you cut the wrong artery he’ll die.”
“Should I avoid knives entirely?”
“Probably not. My favorite method is very simple. Just cut his thigh, or arm, and pour salt all over it. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but not hurt enough to actually hurt him severely. That’s how I do it when I have the time.”
“Good point. Any other tips?”
“Well, this is more of a bit of mental advice, but,” she glances at me yet again, and although it’s brief, I see the seriousness in her expression. “You need to be able to hold in your anger. I can almost guarantee he’ll say something that will anger you. If you allow the anger to consume you, you’ll kill him too soon. In a way, it’ll be a victory for him because he’ll get away with dyingquickly, and you’ll be left with resentment toward yourself for allowing the anger to get the best of you.”
I don’t respond for a while, allowing the words to sink in. Kaya’s right. She’s someone who’s been in the clutches of this terrible world, and now that she’s free to live her life as she sees fit, it wouldn’t hurt taking her advice. The anger has been building since I was fifteen and now it’s deadly. When it fully overwhelms me, I can’t be reasoned with. That’s half the reason I ended up killing my mother and step-father. But back then, I was a child. Someone who’s gone through something no one should ever go through, and I didn’t know how to regulate my emotions back then. All I did wasfeel. The deeply rooted feeling of being worthless still existed inside of me, until I met my savior.
This is my only chance at taking back what Simmons took from me — my sanity.
The innocence of this harsh, demeaning and abusive world is long gone. There are things that I’ll never get back. Hell, I’m not even certain therapy could help me put these demons to rest. Yet, I know I have to try, for the little Blair who was begging for someone to save her.
I’ll save myself.
That’s what Arlo taught me to do. That’s why I’m steeling myself for the worst and best days of my life. I’ll prolong it for as long as I deem it necessary, and I’ll make sure Paul Simmons feels in his bones the depth of my wrath, the deeply rooted hatred that flows through me and exists solely for him.
The man who stole my innocence.
“You’re right,” I respond, looking out the window. The rain is still as tedious as ever, yet, I find it calming. The anxiety thatstarted when we first left the studio is now gone, replaced by a sense of determination. “I won’t let the anger get the best of me.”
“Good,” Kaya hums. “And for the record, I’ll be there. Not directly, but I’ll be there. I’ll make sure no one else gets to you two, until you’re done with him.”
A small smile forms on my face. “Thank you, Kaya. I mean it.”
“You should, I don’t do this nonsense for everyone.”
“Does that mean you consider me a friend?” I tease, a grin on my face.
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” she scoffs, as if I’d just burned her. “I tolerate you. And you’ll be a good asset to have just in case. I’m just keeping you alive while I need you.”
“Uhuh,” I smirk, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But don’t think for a second I believe that bullshit. You like me, at least on some level, otherwise you would’ve killed me the moment I pissed you off.”
“Stop looking so smug before I crash this car and kill us both just to spite you.”
Knowing Kaya, she’s not joking. I straighten up in my seat, clearing my throat and deciding it’d probably be a good idea to shut my mouth, and not provoke her any further. I’m yet to see Kaya in action, but I know that will either be both the greatest thing my eyes have ever witnessed and the most disturbing, nauseating scene. I’m not sure which one is worse.
Kaya’s phone buzzes when we reach a red light, and when she stops, she pulls it out. Her eyes skim the screen, and it only lasts a couple of seconds, before she turns the screen off, and pockets the device.
“Paul’s in our hands.”
