He’d broken a family, divided a home, and shattered the bond between mother and daughter. He’d forced her to flee to the streets, a place where no teen or adult should live.
He deserved hell and the hot flames that came with it.
But there was no God. So, there was no heaven, and there damn sure was no hell. I would have to be his final judgement. I would have to show him the injustice of his evil ways.
I probably should kill her mother too. She didn’t protect and value Phoenix enough.
But, then her mother could have been a survivor of abuse too. For all I knew, there’d been generations of damaged and abused women in her family. It could have been why the mother allowed it to go on, not ready to face it, not able to process what occurred to her and her child. Her mother could have been closed off emotionally and unable to help.
For now, I would focus all my anger on the stepfather.
I’m going to spend several hours on him. Would Phoenix want to watch? Would she help?
The idea thrilled me.
Lovely images ran through my mind. I saw her picking up knives with me and cutting bits of his flesh away. I imagined the both of us covered in his blood. I pictured us, making love right next to his dead, cut up body.
My heart warmed. And this odd sensation spilled into me. It was quiet, soft emotion filling my heart. And I wasn’t sure what it was, but I yearned to feel more of it. I could feel it changing me, merging with my body, my cells, becoming a part of my blood.
She’s doing something to me.
The more I peeked into the windows of her heart, the more I yearned to see, feel, smell, and taste. The more I longed to crawl in and look around.
Never had I ever wanted another person to stand in my soul coffin with me. But now I couldn’t imagine killing a person without her.
It’s only supposed to be four days of her here, but. . .
I studied Phoenix.
With her eyes still closed, she leaned against the shelf. Her chest slowly rose and fell. There was a sense of peace to the rhythm.
I can’t push this with her anymore today. I’ll bring it back up tomorrow.
Perhaps, Phoenix’s mind was still unable to connect to the trauma. To push her to this new reality would be to break her even more. If I pushed, she may try to deny it to herself only because it was so upsetting to her mind.
Letting out a long breath, she opened her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Maybe. . .I can kill him?”
“What? No, Cain.”
“Maybe. . .” An odd laugh left her. The noise rose in the space. She rubbed her face with both hands. “Maybe. . .Russel did do something to me. I mean. . .maybe. . .”
“And you blocked it or even forgot it.”
“Could that have happened? How could I forget something so horrible?”
“I believe that’s how your brain saves you from breaking down.” I unfisted my hands. “That’s how it protects you.”
She touched her lips.
“Sometimes we don’t remember the bad moment until something later in life triggers the memory.”
“But why?”
“Your brain shows you the memories when it is able to make more sense of them.”
“But why now?”
I shrugged. “The cutting could have presented some form of release. Or maybe, your being here, trapped and out of control, gave you the time to think about this. You’re not in survival mode. Or perhaps, I pushed it.”
Guilt hit me.
She widened her eyes. “I don’t want to remember anything else.”
“I know, but it may be good to just be okay with the fact that. . .” I shrugged again. “He was hurting you and it was smart for you to run away.”
“Was it smart for me to run?” She left the bookcase and headed toward the kitchen.
I caught her arm. “Yes. It was smart. Running away from pain and those that cause you pain, can always be a wise decision. Your mind. Your body. Your heart. Your soul. It’s all to be unapologetically protected and wholeheartedly loved. You made the right decisions in your life.”
“But, look at where I am now.”
I gave her a sad smile. “Haven’t I treated you well?”
“I might die here!” She trembled.
I cleared my throat. “Or you might live more than you’ve ever lived in your life.”
She blinked. “You’re crazy.”
“I am.” I released her arm and walked off. “Come on.”
She followed. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to give you some medicine.”
“No. No.” She stopped walking. “I-I don’t want any drugs or—”
“You won’t have to swallow this medicine.” I went to the kitchen.
She remained where she was. “But will it hurt me?”
“Not at all.”
Sighing, she headed to the kitchen.
I pulled out the drawer by the stove and took out handcuffs and their keys.