“Damaged people are dangerous.
They know they can survive.”
—Josephine Hart, Damage
I turn on the bathroom faucet and splash cold water on my face. After shutting it off, I grip the edge of the marble counter and stare past my haggard reflection.
All I see is her. Sitting on the floor with her sky-blue eyes blinking up at me. She looked exactly like her. So small, with her knees bent and her long black hair blanketing her little body.
I shake my head and rub my eyes. Fucking Emmy. Even in her absence she’s climbing under my skin and lighting a match. She’s stolen my sleep, consumed my thoughts with images of her, deprived me of the calm my kills are meant to bring, and now she’s got me seeing things I didn’t ever want to see again.
But fuck, I swear I saw Sofia flicker through those eyes.
(Fourteen years old)
“Let’s jump back to more recent times,” Katerina says. “Tell me about the alley on 5th Street. Specifically, I’d like to hear more of the sexual violations. I don’t imagine it’s easy, sacrificing a piece of yourself for security.”
The scrawny teen tilts his chin and twists his lips, like he’s thinking seriously about her question. I shake my head. After thirty minutes of this, I’m surprised Katerina’s let him go on this long.
He mutters, “No, I don’t imagine it is. And how does that make you feel? Knowing the price you pay for sacrificing your sanity?”
She exhales slowly, her patience wearing thin.
My lips twitch. At least he’s entertaining.
“I’m going to give you one more opportunity,” she begins calmly, “to open up for me. I’ll make it easy for you. Why don’t you pick a topic or incident, and we’ll build on it from there?”
He chuckles. “How thoughtful.”
A clink across the room pulls my eyes to Sofia. She’s still handcuffed to the cage. She’s pulled her knees up to hide behind them, but I can tell she’s peeking between.
Watching.
Listening.
I wonder how many of their words she actually understands. But then, I guess it’s not about the words. I feel it, the way everything around us soaks into my bones. The tone of their voices. The stillness in the air. The scratching of a pen on paper. And that’s just the interview.
“Don’t be afraid,” the kid strapped to the table says. I glance at him. “I’m here to listen. Was it your childhood that made you this way? Do you have mommy issues, or did Daddy sneak into your bed?”
I expect Katerina to be angry, but she only smiles and slips her notepad into her pocket. She stands, stepping closer to the boy, and leans in. Stroking his dirty-blond hair, she murmurs, “So young and ignorant. Not everyone needs a traumatic childhood to access their true impulses. Some of us are in tune enough with our inner selves to light our own path. While others need to be guided.” She inches closer and presses a kiss to his bony cheek. “They need to be abandoned.” Another kiss on his other cheek. “Used.” A kiss on his nose. “Raped.” His chin. “Beaten and starved.” Lastly, his forehead. “And left to die.”
For the first time since his arrival, the new kid doesn’t have a comeback. When she backs away, his lips are thinned and he’s glaring at the ceiling.
She pats his leg. “There, there. Everything happens for a reason.”
She walks to the door, pulls it open, and disappears for a minute. When she comes back, Baldy is with her. She nods toward the table. “I need more time to observe this one. Lock him in with my pet.”
My ears perk up, and I straighten against the wall. She’s never sent another kid to my cage before.
Baldy unstraps the guy, drags him toward me, unlocks the cage, and tosses him in. He lands on his stomach, too weak to catch himself. I know the feeling. As Baldy locks us back up, Katerina walks over and angles her head, watching him struggle to stand.
With a sigh, she turns to Baldy. “Take me to the storage room. I’ll handpick a crate myself.”
Baldy leads the way, but Katerina stops beside Sofia’s cage. She kneels. “I’m sorry it’s been such a slow day. Mommy just needs a little inspiration.” She reaches a finger through the bars to tap her daughter’s nose. Sofia closes her eyes, like she’s absorbing the touch. “I love you, baby.”
Katerina and Baldy leave together. My tense muscles relax when all but one of the lights go out, and the door closes behind them.
I watch as my new cellmate shifts his attention to Sofia. For a second, he just watches her. Then he turns to me. His brows furrow as he lowers his gaze to my spot on the ground, against the wall.
“Shit. How long have you been stuck in this place?”
I shrug, not wanting to tell him it’s been over a year and a half. I don’t know why the question feels so personal. Instead, I ask, “You really don’t know your name?”
He smirks again, and I narrow my eyes. I’ve never seen any of the kids here do anything but cry, beg, or stare blankly. I’m an exception, but I’ve never smirked. It’s weird. Kinda refreshing, too.
“No. Who needs one, anyway?” He swipes a hand through his dirty hair, then glances back at Sofia, cuffed to the cage and hiding behind her knees and hair. He tilts his head in her direction. “Already grooming an apprentice, huh? Bet she’ll make her mommy proud someday.”
I shake my head and push off the ground to stand. I don’t know why that sends a surge of anger through me. Doesn’t he see that she’s just a kid? A real kid? Until she arrived, I’d never really been around someone so little. Never seen such a small kid up close, how innocent their eyes are.
“She’s a kid,” I growl. “She’s still good.”
He barks out a chuckle, and Sofia’s whole body jumps. “Kids aren’t good. They’re dumb, which makes them appear good. And besides,” he glances back at her, and she trembles under his glare, “she’s her mother’s daughter. There’s no fighting what’s in her blood.”