Chapter 32
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Tessa the Reaper
His remaining eye continues to watch my every move. Even when I turn to face the wall, his lifeless stare taunts me. Guilt threatens to rear its ugly head, but I refuse to let it rise. It was my life, or the life of a kidnapping rapist. I will do whatever it takes to get back to Andrew, to my family.
But did you need to torture him?
Yes! Yes, I fucking did.
My vengeance wasn’t going to be wrapped up in a pretty bow and handed to me like a present, not after everything he had done. The Reaper in me is a necessary evil, one whose job isn’t yet finished.
And you thought I was gone, a thing of the past. Silly girl.
I rake my fingers through my hair. I don’t know who I am anymore. Part of me wishes I could turn back time and kill him over and over. The rest of me is repulsed by my cruelty.
Who am I?
Shaking my head, I fight to clear my mind of confusing thoughts by returning to the task at hand. Using the tip of the letter opener, I continue working on the lock that keeps my metal shackle in place. A small whimper escapes my lips when I move it a little too roughly and the cuff digs into the blistering skin around my ankle, but I grit my teeth and carry on.
I haven’t heard a peep from the dragon, not even her usual ramblings as she passes by my room. The silence makes me uneasy. She will be ready for me, I can feel it.
Only one Kinsley will leave this house with a heartbeat.
Click.
That’s it, the sound I’ve been waiting for. I tug open the padlock. The hunk of metal releases its grip on me and clangs to the ground. I’m free.
I grip the letter opener in one hand, and creep to the door. It feels so strange to move without the weight of the chain dragging behind me.
Can this really be happening?
Will I wake up to a leering Trent, still chained up like a disobedient pet? I reach out a shaky hand and brush my fingertips across the cold metal of the doorknob. It feels solid, real.
I jump when something drips onto my bare shoulder. Looking up, I see a soft spot in the ceiling where water has pooled and now trickles through the plaster. Slowing my breathing, I listen over the sound of my erratic heartbeat and hear the pitter patter of rain hitting the roof. Regaining my composure, I reach for the door handle and turn it. The creak of the door swinging open echoes throughout the house. I check to my right, there’s no light coming from her room. If I had to guess, I’d say she was downstairs. I move as slowly as possible, but this house is too old, and each step groans under my weight, screaming my presence.
Teeth clenched, I round into the living room and discover I was worried for nothing. She’s not hiding, not biding her time to jump out and attack me. In a cloud of smoke from her lit cigarette she stands by the sliding glass door, looking out into the dark backyard.
When she speaks, it’s with surprising lucidity. “I never could get that bloodstain out of the concrete, and would you believe I tried? I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed till my skin was raw, but it didn’t matter.” She looks down at something in her hands, but whatever it is remains in the shadow. “It took me a long time to learn that it didn’t matter what chemicals I used, that stain would never come out. It was meant to haunt me, you see. A bloody reminder of how you ruined this family.” Her eyes blaze with animosity as she swivels to look at me.
“Dad was a violent drunk, and you were a sadistic cunt. I deserved better,” I say coolly.
Her hand jerks up and I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. “Don’t you dare fucking talk about him.” Instinctively, I wrap an arm around my stomach.
“You’re not going to kill me, I have something you want,” I remind her, my eyes continuously flitting to where her finger remains on the trigger.
She smiles, her eyes glowing with madness. “I was mistaken, daughter. You’re not a sheep, no. You’re a snake in sheep’s clothing, writhing in the wool. Think of poor Adam and Eve, what did the snake bring but death, death, death? What kind of child would come from your monstrous womb? How could it hold innocence while it suckles the poison out of your tit? I will end this curse, and when the demonic light finally fades from your eyes, I will cut you open and make sure your spawn can’t slither away.”
Without a moment of hesitation, I hurl the letter opener and aim toward her hand that grips the gun. Not as light as my trusty knife, the weapon wobbles and veers off course. Instead of hitting her hand, the replica sword arcs and slices across her ribs before clattering to the ground. With an angry hiss, she yanks up her shirt to inspect the wound, it’s a shallow cut with only a small dribble of blood coming from it.
With her attention redirected, I lunge backwards into the safety of the kitchen. I can see part of the front door from where I stand, it’s the perfect chance to make my escape. I go to take a step forward, but my body is frozen and a tsking sound echoes through my mind.
We’re not going anywhere, Tessa, our business is not done. What do you think happens after you escape?
I stop struggling to move and consider the question that rises from my subconscious. If I leave now, with my mother hell bent on destroying me and my baby, I will spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. Every single day, I’ll be waiting for her to pop out of the shadows and destroy my happiness.
We end this today.
I scan the filthy kitchen for anything that can help me fight back. There are large pots on the table and the floor, water steadily dripping into them from the rain. God knows how many leaks this place has. A smile crosses my lips when I spot my boots lying haphazardly under the table.
I tug them on and look for the rest of my clothes, or at least my pocket knife, but come up empty handed. Grazing my eyes across the counter, I finally spot something useful. I pull out a rusted butcher knife from the wooden block and carefully feel along the edge. It’s a bit dull, but it will do the job.
Now, all I have to worry about is that gun. A wild card I wasn’t expecting to come into play. She won’t shoot it unless she has no other option. There’s no way she wants the neighbors calling the cops and risking them finding me, and the dead body upstairs.
Glancing down at myself, I realize how insane I look. I’m in underwear and combat boots, fisting a giant knife, and sporting the small swell of a baby bump. Shaking my head, I move silently to the kitchen entrance and slide the knife into the hall. I attempt to locate the dragon’s position with the reflection of the blade. She still stands by the sliding door and the gun is back up, trained in my direction.
As soon as her eyes meet mine in the reflection of the knife, her finger pulls back, and a bang erupts from her hands. With a gasp, I duck back into the kitchen and stumble to the floor. My body sags against the cabinets as I stare at the smoking bullet lodged in the front door.
Well, there goes my theory.
The dragon cries excitedly from the other room. “Don’t be afraid of death, little snake. Come here and let me put you out of your miserable existence.”
Hand gripping the counter, I pull myself back to my feet. I twirl the knife in my hand and consider my next step. Odds aren’t favoring me right now, but I’ll soon get the upper hand.
Trent was just a warm-up, now I’m ready to play.
So—let the games begin.