He ran his hands through his hair because goddamn if he didn’t feel like crying like a little bitch. “Fuck, April. I know I’m being selfish. I know I am. She isn’t Ri. But she still is, at least a little bit. I see it in her. Even the things I don’t recognize, the things I hate . . .” He met his sister’s eyes. “They’re a marvel, April. What I’ve seen of this world, what happens to victims. Most of it is what happened to Jaclyn. We’re not meant to survive some things. And though I’m glad as fuck she did, Orion was not meant to survive what was done to her. No one should have to try and be human after that.”
April moved forward to squeeze his shoulder. “Big bro, I don’t think she is entirely human. I think she had to become a little bit of a monster to survive.”
Maddox thought of that coldness in her eyes. And he agreed with his sister.
Seventeen
“What’s going on with you and Eric?”
Orion surprised both herself and April with the question. She had thought it, of course. Many times. But she’d never asked before. Didn’t want to inevitably end up on the subject of her and Maddox.
April damn near choked on her glass of wine.
They were at Maria’s, the Italian place Maddox had taken her for that initial dinner. It was Orion’s safe place—Maria was a warm presence who came to bring Orion great peace. It was the only place she felt comfortable going since the Mexican restaurant and the fight.
Not with Maddox, of course. She was icing him out. Ignoring his calls. Not answering the door when she saw him through her peephole—though that had only happened once. He looked so dejected, so heartbroken, she had almost opened the door for him. But she snuffed out the tiny voice telling her to.
Orion should be thinking a lot less about Maddox and a lot more about the man she’d murdered in the street, but she found the opposite to be happening. The further the doctor got in her rearview, the calmer she became, detached from the gruesomeness. Meanwhile, the longer she kept Maddox at a distance, the more she yearned to stop.
She’d thought about the doctor, of course. It was hard not to when his face was all over the news. She was glad she had killed him in St. Louis, far away from Grandview and the horrors of The Cell. She regretted cutting his dick off the moment she did it. She cursed herself for being so fucking undisciplined, so controlled by her emotions.
Fear clung to her lungs for the first week or so, making it hard for her to breathe. The story was headlining the news, of course, and it would stay there for a long time. She watched every segment. Even caught a glimpse of the man’s family, and Maddox and Eric on the scene, being interviewed about Clark County’s involvement in the investigation, as the doctor resided in the county seat, Monroesville. Her breath completely left her lungs when she saw him there, where she had been. She tried to swallow, to gulp, but couldn’t seem to work through the knot in her throat.
She grew to ignore the interview, to let it fade into the dark recesses of her mind, and she found herself enthralled by the fact that he was investigating her murder.
He was a good detective. And she knew there was a chance she left something behind, even if the chances were slim. She had thought it over and over a thousand times, but beyond the impulsive nature of the killing, she had done it cleanly.
Which was why she started to breathe easier after the first week. Because he was a good detective. And if the scene had any kind of evidence, he would’ve found it already. He would’ve brought it to her, cuffed her, and took her to her new cell.
Of course, she remained vigilant, half expected to find Maddox at her door once more, this time with his gun drawn and handcuffs ready. She wouldn’t see the inside of any cell though, not this time. She’d make him shoot her.
But he never came.
There was an outpouring of grief and anger over the doctor’s killing. Gang-related, most people deduced, though they couldn’t put a finger on the penis in the mouth aspect of it all. Investigators found records of all his strip club visits, his prostitution arrest in ’84, and the media found out soon after. It was the easiest way to explain an—on the surface—senseless killing. Blame the “thugs,” the marginalized, those who people crossed the street to avoid. Maybe the good doctor owed the wrong people money? Speculation was wild.
Orion was sorry that supposed “thugs” were blamed by the media. That news stations reported police suspecting a “person of color.” It made her physically ill if she was being honest with herself. But that’s what this world did. It laid crimes at the feet of the innocent, due to racial bias, classism, the fucking old boys’ club. The rich, white men never got caught.