“You can have her,” he slurs. “Just let me go.”
“Tsk, tsk.” I shake my head slowly. “That’s not going to happen.”
I lean closer.
“You had seven years to make her happy. Seven years. And you turned her life into a living hell instead.”
“You can have all my money,” he mutters, another string of bloody saliva hitting the floor between us.
A laugh escapes me.
“You mean the money you stole from her father?” I raise a brow. “I don’t want it.”
I stand and grab the chain from the ground, wrapping it around my knuckles. With one sharp pull, I drag him across the floor. His body scrapes behind me, leaving a dark trail of blood.
I stop at the far end of the basement, right in front of the closet.
The door creaks when I open it.
For a moment I remember her pounding against the wood from the inside. Her voice breaking as she begged to be let out.
I grab Daniel by the collar and shove him inside, the heavy chain clattering beside him, before slamming the door and twisting the key in the lock.
I hear him scream again, but it’s nothing compared to what I will do next.
The easiest lesson you can teach an abuser is how it feels to be abused back. The hardest one is that no matter how desperately they beg for their life, they still end up six feet under the ground.
I pull another cigarette from my pocket and light it. Smoke fills my lungs as I lean my shoulder against the closet door.
Memories creep in. All the times I had to pull her away from him, all the times she still chose him.
It’s not easy to just leave. I know that now.
We lived separate lives. She had Daniel. I had Lilibeth. It’s a cruel thing to live beside someone who loves you while your heart belongs to someone else. It’s not fair to anyone involved. No matter what you do, someone will always get hurt. I chose the easiest path.
I waited.
I inhale slowly, then release another stream of smoke into the air.
My fist knocks twice against the closet door.
“Knock, knock,” I say calmly.
He doesn’t answer.
“I said knock fucking knock,” I snap, slamming my palm against the door hard enough to make the hinges shake.
“W… who’s there?” he finally stutters from inside.
I flick the cigarette to the ground and crush it under my shoe.
“Your worst nightmare,” I say as I turn the key and pull the closet door open.
Thirteen
AURELIA
It’s beautiful outside, in the garden. Spring is in the air. The rain deepens the green, soaking life back into grass that looked brittle only days ago. Flowers push through the soil as if they have been holding their breath all winter.
