Page 75 of 4 Corinthians

“Dear Lord, I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard my voice. I have walked into your home more times than I can count without acknowledging you. For that I am forever sorry. I am here now, asking for your forgiveness and guidance. I am your child, the one you picked for this life of pain. You know my heart, mind, pain, fear, desires, and only you know what I’m worthy of. But I’m not coming to you for my personal gain. I need you to heal her.” I opened my eyes to look at Psalms. “She never deserved the pain that was inflicted on her. She is just a baby. Your child. Release her from the pain she can't let go of. If it has to go somewhere, give it to me. I’m strong enough to carry both our burdens.” I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out loud and waking Psalms. “She’s special, a pure soul full of love. Please, I’m begging you.” I looked at Judah when he started to whimper. “I don’t know how to be a mother to him. I love him, but I am scared I’m not worthy. Show me what you need me to be. The man you chose to be his father?” I lifted my head to look at the ceiling. “I want to ask you why, but I know I can't question your ways.” Tears fell from my eyes. “Show me, please?”

I wiped my face and looked down at Judah. He was awake; his eyes bore into me. His brows damn near connected, then he smiled. His toothless grin melted my heart. I slowly unwrapped Psalms's arms from my waist and got up from the bed.

“Okay, look kiddo, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered as I picked up Judah. His chubby hands went to my cheeks, and he laughed. “Hi, baby boy. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this point.” Tears fell from my eyes, but I didn’t try to stop them. “My name is Corinthians DeCorte, and I’m your mommy.” Judah let go of my face, and I kissed his forehead. “We have six months of catching up to do.” I moved away from the bed, glancing back at Psalms to make sure she was asleep, and went to my closet. I had grown to be comfortable sitting in bed, but I still couldn’t sleep in one. I pushed my clothes out of the way, then went to the back of the closet, slowly sat down, then turned on the small light I had in there. Judah laid his head on my chest, and I rubbed his back. “I want to tell you a story, about a boy, he couldn’t feel pain…”

***

I parked my car, turned it off, then got out. It had taken me thirty minutes to get here, and as much as I wanted to pretend that I wanted to leave, I was sick of this shit. I needed an outlet. I was still trying to navigate being a mother and helping Psalms through her shit. I was drowning, and this was the only thing that I could think of to make me feel alive.

And I hated it.

I put the code into the door, waited for the light to turn green, then opened the door and looked around. The building looked like an old barn from the outside, but the inside was completely updated. The entrance was an open space with a table in the middle. On it was a metal cage with labeled drawers. Next to it was a metal trash can. The room didn’t have the metallic smell of blood or antiseptic. This wasn’t what I expected, but at the same time I had no expectations.

“I never thought I would see the day,” Mercy said, walking into the open room. She was dressed in a grey jumpsuit tied at her waist. Her black tank was covered in blood, and she had black work boots on her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s Granddaddy?” I asked, not answering her question. She pointed at the door behind me. “Thank you.” I turned and walked towards the door.

“Corinthians?” she called out. I stopped walking, turned to face her, and lifted my brow. “Your phone, keys, and purse have to stay on the table right there, and you have to put on a jumpsuit.” I looked at the table to my left. “Cross will remotely reset your location once your stuff is put in the lockbox.”

“She can do that?” I asked, surprised, and Mercy nodded. “Since when?”

“Not long,” she replied. “But it works.”

I put my things in the lockboxes like Mercy said, then changed into a jumpsuit and boots. Once I was done, she showed me how to lock everything away, then went back to her room to do whatever she had been doing before I came in.

I approached the door she told me Granddaddy was in, took a deep breath, then opened it. Helen sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair. The moment her eyes locked on me, she started fighting against her restraints. We hadn’t seen her since her church anniversary service. Granddaddy had mentioned in passing that enough time had passed, and she was free game. At first, I was hesitant to tell him I wanted in, but when I did, he just nodded and gave me the building's address. No questions asked.

“That’s not necessary,” I told her, shaking my head. “Those restraints aren’t coming off, trust me. If Granddaddy didn’t teach us anything, he taught us how to tie a knot.” I stopped walking and thought for a moment. “Well no, that’s a lie. He taught us a lot of things.”

“When my husband finds out what about this-“

“He can die too,” I said, waving her off. “Trust me, y’all blood ain’t nothing but a drop in the bucket.” I walked over to the metal cabinet that was identical to the one I grew up seeing and opened it. Inside was every kind of knife I was ever taught to use. “I have no idea how he knew I would end up here.”

“I’m just good,” Granddaddy's voice echoed through the room. I leaned back out of the cabinet and then looked around. “It’s a speaker in every room. Look up and to your right.” I did what he said and noticed a small round dome in the corner of the room. “I can see and hear you.”

“Nice,” I said, nodding. “You want to join me?”

“Honestly?” he paused for a moment. “No.” A wave of disappointment washed over me, and I looked away. “I want to see what you can do.”

“You want to see if I’ll fail,” I corrected him, then went back to looking at the knives. That sadness was replaced with anger. I knew that none of what I felt was directed at Granddaddy, but he was going to be my outlet for the moment. “You want to see if I’ll cry or stutter because I’m overwhelmed.” I picked up a blue butterfly knife and flipped it open. “You want to see if it comes down to it, if I’m strong enough to be what I’m not.” I closed the cabinet and approached Helen. “You want to see if I’m capable of doing the unthinkable.” I looked up at the camera. I grabbed Helen by the back of the head and pulled it back so that she looked up at me. When I was a kid, I killed for survival. The fear that Robert embedded in me was still there, but there was also something else: peace.

“Please,” Helen begged as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Take it from me, begging never gets you anywhere,” I told her, then put the knife to her neck and slowly sliced her neck open. I watched as her blood flowed from her open wound. I waited for the wave of guilt to wash over me, but it never did.

The door opened, and I looked up to see Krude standing on the other side. “All these years I wondered what it would take for you to snap and join the family business finally.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “Now I’m seeing all it took was for you to become a mother,” he said, looking from me to Helen. “You aren’t as dramatic as I thought you would be, though. Slicing her throat was the easiest death she could’ve had.”

I laughed and shook my head, then flipped my knife between my fingers and stabbed Helen in the chest.

“She’s not dead,” I told him and then walked out of the room.

“What do you mean she’s not dead?” he asked. The confusion was evident in his voice.

“Check her pulse. I intentionally didn’t cut her arteries; she’s slowly bleeding to death.”

“And the knife?”

“Next to her heart, not in it,” I told him. “She can feel it every time her heart beats.”