Chapter 10
Anna
My adoptive father once told me telling the truth, no matter what it entailed, was always the better alternative to lying. That, yes, you may get in trouble, or you may be disliked, but staying in God’s light would not only set right the wrongs, but leave nothing to chance when it came to evil using our lies against us. Truth.
I’d tried so hard to hide the truth from Braden, I’d even contemplated killing my own adoptive mother so she wouldn’t ruin the connection he and I shared. Then I wanted to kill Braden’s attacker. No, I was going to kill him. I couldn’t escape that. My mind wouldn’t let me. It made me sick. Everything made me sick. Nothing was right and everything was crumbling down around me. Truth.
I glanced over the candle I was kneeling before on my coffee table. Braden was sitting in the dining room, pouring over the same folder now for hours. Prayer was supposed to help me—to calm me and clear my mind. It hadn’t. I was more confused than ever. I was about to destroy the only good thing in my life and it was all for Anna’s sake. For the good part of me that believed she needed a sign to prove to her she wasn’t supposed to become a monster again. God’s will. Truth. Did he really exist? Would he allow Braden to forgive me for who I was? For what I had done? For what I constantly dreamed to do? Well, I wouldn’t tell him the last part. He didn’t need to know that.
I stood, keeping my steps as quiet as I could. When graphic crime scene photos came into view, I felt myself slow. The wetness that appeared between my legs was just like when Braden touched me. All the blood. All the red.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”
He pulled the pictures in to pick them up, and I couldn’t help but continue the rest of the way to the table. To say I wasn’t fascinated would have been a lie. I wanted nothing more than to scour over every single inch of what he was meant to keep secret from me.
“You shouldn’t see any of this. You’re going to have nightmares.”
My eyes flickered to him, but went back to the papers furthest away.
“I doubt that,” I whispered. “Braden…I have to…”
I reached forward, picking up what looked to be a poem with a protective clear covering. The flower at the bottom.
“A daisy,” I breathed out. “I used to love daisies.”
“Don’t read that, Anna. Let me have it.”
I didn’t listen.
“Blonde hair, brown eyes,
Whispers of love,
It was all a lie.
She was seven.
I was eight.
The best day of my life,
…and she was bait.”
I paused, swallowing hard.
“She smiles,
I laugh,
We paint our face,
The hunt is on,
But I will win this race.
-No one.”
Braden moved to my side, but I saw nothing but a blurry, hazy memory in front of me. A fair…a brown-haired little boy as we went off on our own and rode the rides. We’d gotten our faces painted. Yes! A daisy. I had a daisy on my cheek. I was the bait for my mother to take his.
“What is it, Anna? You’re so pale. Dammit, I told you not to read it. And the pictures—you saw them on the table, didn’t you?”
I gagged, slapping my hand over my mouth. Those girls. He was killing them because of me? He wanted to kill me? Was I reading that poem right? It fit so perfectly to my past. If it was me…?
“No, no. Come over here. I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have brought this in.”
Bile burned my throat as I heaved over my kitchen sink, but I didn’t see the silver metal surface. I saw her blood. Her bright red lips as I returned home by myself from the carnival. I’d left him there—left the boy to search for his mother knowing he’d never find her. I didn’t care at the time. All I could think about was what I was missing. I barely even remembered the time spent with the boy. I had been dying to return so I could help my mother do what made us happy.
“Shhh. Breathe, baby. Shhh. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Was I crying? I wasn’t just crying, I was damn near in hysterics with how hard my sobs were coming. We were on the sofa, and I was letting him rock me.
“Repent, Anna. Ask God to forgive you. Did you pray? Pray for your soul, Anna. Pray the Devil hasn’t already taken it from you.”
“What sort of God would put a child through that? Everything isn’t forgivable with repentance. It can’t be.”
Lucille and Braden’s words looped in my head, twisting and warping my brain.
“You have to g-go. You can’t be here anymore.” The sob left my voice broken up. I could barely see Braden’s shocked, yet hurt expression. In truth, I didn’t want to.
“Go? I don’t want to leave. Especially with you like this. It’s my fault. I thought you’d be praying. That it would buy me some time to try to get some work in. I didn’t hear you come over or else—”
“You didn’t hear me because I didn’t want you to!” Pushing out of his arms, I flew to my feet. “You have no idea who is standing before you. You have no idea who you claim to care about.”
“Anna, you’re upset.” He stood and I took a few steps back, putting distance between us.
“The law for the unlawful. My mother said that today. Do you remember?”
His eyebrows drew in. “I do.”
“I’m not a good person, Braden. This…killer. This man,” I said, pointing to the table, “how many women has he killed already?”
“Five.”
I sobbed, running my hands down my face. “Five. That’s nothing compared to…nothing,” I choked out. “Braden…God forgive me. I’ve helped k-kill twelve. Twelve women. You have a killer before you and you don’t even know.”
“That’s not funny, Anna.”
“Annalise!” I exploded. “Annalise Fowler. Daughter to Rebecca Anne Fowler—the Madison Ridge Killer. I know you’ve heard of her. Everyone’s heard of her! There are books, documentaries. I…” Sobs made it almost impossible to go on. I was crying so hard, embarrassed and enraged at who I truly was. Crying because I knew I was going to lose him. “I was nine when Mr. and Mrs. Monroe adopted me. I should be rotting in jail right now. I was too young for them to charge me with any crimes when they arrested my mother, so here I am. A monster, just like the kind you track down. Like the kind you hate.”
For what seemed like minutes, Braden didn’t move. He searched my face as if he were truly seeing me. As if we were meeting for the first time. It tore me to pieces, even if I couldn’t read the expression he held.
“You helped your mother kill them, or you were there when she committed the crimes? I’ve heard of her…but the details…” he trailed off, taking a step back. His distance had the tears slowing and numbness taking over. I was exhausted. Exhausted from the nightmares. Exhausted from keeping my secret. Life was wearing me out. How long could I keep fighting myself? Did it matter anymore? With each shake of his head and retreating step, I saw hope slipping away for us.
“She led my hand, but I held the knife while she had me cut off their breasts and into their stomach. That, of course, was after I got to apply the makeup. I don’t even remember when it started. I might have been three? Four? It was all I knew. What I grew up looking forward to. She would throw us what she called a ‘girl’s party’ the day before we went on the hunt for her new victim. Don’t you see!” I swallowed the nausea down, knowing the sudden compulsion to throw up didn’t compare to the illness infesting within my mind. “I’m…not who you thought I was,” I choked out. “I lied to you, and I’m sorry for that.”
Braden didn’t speak, but with the way his gaze narrowed, there was no love, no sense of a bond between us. I was the enemy, and he was making that more clear by the second.
“Just leave, Braden. You would have when you eventually found out anyway.”
“Do you still have the need to kill?”
My lips parted, but the truth wouldn’t come. At my silence, his eyes widened and a tick pulled at his cheek. Disgust. Anger. Shock. It was all there, and I couldn’t take seeing it from him anymore. Turning, I pushed my way into my room. Although I cracked the door and walked to the bed…secretly, I waited. I waited for God to prove himself. I was led to believe he would fix everything with prayer. With truth. Braden had my truth, but what would become of it?
Silence reigned for what had to be a good minute or two before…click. The sound of the knob, followed by a door, had more tears escaping. A sob tore from me, but still, I waited. For hours, I sat on the edge of the bed, not moving. Hoping. Praying.
Until the sun rose and I prayed no more.
Heaviness pulled at my lids as I stood, stripping the robe, corset, and panties from my body. I didn’t bother to put anything else on as I jerked down the comforter and sheet to bury myself under the blankets. Unconsciousness came, followed by a mass of fast moving pictures. Nightmares of laughter and blood took me over, and although I was enjoying slicing open the woman’s skin, my teachings reminded me of the repercussions. Hell’s fire licked against my skin, burning me as I climbed on top of the brunette to straddle her. Warm wetness had my hand gliding over her breast and I couldn’t stop myself from rocking against her restrained body. Yes, I was so hot—so in need of power over her perfect body and mind.
My lips massaged into hers, drinking in her screams while I rubbed my clit against the top of her slit faster. The friction had me moaning. Screaming. Yes, my yells were joining hers. Our pussies were so wet together. I reached back to touch hers, and I was covered in even more blood as I trailed my other palm over my own bare breast and squeezed through my orgasm. Back and forth, touching her…me. Her. Me.
Hadn’t this been what I had always wanted? Hadn’t I had this with Jade before she broke my heart and caused me to hurt her? To take her heart? I ran away after my fight with my parents, but I couldn’t run here. Here, I was trapped and forced to face my secrets.
Colors faded and wetness from my orgasm covered my innermost thighs as I rolled to my side. The events of the night before came back and I pulled the covers over my head, trying to drown out reality. To drown out how my former spiraling was only heading toward depths I couldn’t imagine. New, sexier clothes weren’t going to sate who I was, but it didn’t matter. More hours passed. More tears. When I finally got up, I moved in a fog. I showered. I nibbled on leftovers. I returned to bed. The weekend flew by, and before I knew it, my alarm for work was going off. One call-in. Another day in bed with the supposed flu. Two days. Three more.
Clarity.
Realization.
Braden wasn’t coming back. And I wasn’t Anna Monroe at the moment.