Claire’s blood pooled along the floor, seeping through Jessica’s soiled shorts. It was still warm—a last kiss goodbye. There should have been tears. Any normal person would have been screaming and crying in a fit of hysteria. But when Claire released her last breath, something broke inside of Jessica. A piece of her humanity, the innate part of her that was programmed from birth to do no harm. It was severed and her grief remained buried under the desire—the need—to end Edwin’s life.
“H-how many days h-has it b-been?” Jessica rasped through her dry, raw throat, feeling a new wave of dehydration seizing her body. The dog bowl had been dry for quite some time.
“Three, bitch. Why? You have a date or something?” Edwin continued to scrub at the blood under the single light that hung from the basement ceiling. The wretched smell of death and other bodily fluids hung stagnant in the dungeon air.
“Yes…” her eyelids fought to stay open “…with Jude. H-he’s going to try and k-kill you, b-but I w-won’t let him.” It wasn’t hope, it was certainty. Jude tracked her phone at all times and it was on when she and Claire arrived at the hellhole. He’d know her last location, even if the battery died.
Edwin laughed. “I don’t know who the fuck Jude is, and I don’t really care, but I’m touched that you’re going to save me, sweetheart. Why the sudden love for me? Your slutty friend steal your boyfriend and therefore deep down you’re grateful that I ended her pathetic little life?”
Jessica rolled her head side to side. “No, because I’m going to k-kill you.”
His laugh grew to a roar. “Well this will be interesting. You can’t talk without stammering all over the place and you’re sitting in a puddle of blood and piss with your arms and legs restrained, yet you’re going to kill me?”
She forced her tired eyes to meet his sadistic gaze and then she nodded once before passing out. Voices mixed with jolting sounds echoed like a tunnel, and random flashes of light blurred into hazy outlines—then black.
*
“Wake up so I can fucking kill you,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Jude came into focus as she peeled her eyes open.
“Stop it!” her mom pushed him aside. “Hey, honey.” She rested her palm on Jessica’s cheek. “You’re going to be fine. Two broken ribs but thankfully they didn’t puncture your lung.” Tears swelled in her mom’s eyes despite the smile of relief on her face. “Dad’s in the waiting room handling some things. I’ll go tell him you’re awake.” She kissed her forehead.
Jude moved to her side again, greeting her with a scowl. “I’m serious, as soon as you get out of the hospital I’m going to kill you.”
She managed a faint grin through the residual effect of whatever drugs they’d given her. “At least I’ll die at the hands of a worthy adversary.”
Jude’s expression softened. “Claire is …”
“I know.” Jessica averted her gaze, guilt-ridden that she had yet to shed a single tear. “Did you kill them?”
“Them? You mean him?”
Her eyes shot to his. “Them. There were two.”
Jude shook his head. “One. When we arrived there was only one, Edwin Harvey.”
“No there was another. He left, I think for drugs. Trigger, he called him Trigger. He carried the gun and waved it around with an itchy finger.”
“Claire … who killed—”
“Eddy or ‘Edwin’ … he cut her—only him. But I think …”
Jude sat on the edge of her bed. “You think what?”
“I think I somehow belonged to Trigger. I was his toy and it was going to be his turn.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “You didn’t answer me. Did you kill him?”
“No. I wasn’t alone. Dad was there too and you kept coming in and out of it, but the only thing you said was ‘don’t kill him.’”
“He’s alive?”
“Yes. He’ll never see the outside of a prison cell, but he’s alive.”
“Good.” She nodded.
“Good?”
“Hey, baby girl.” Their dad walked in the room.
“Hi, Dad.”
He kissed the top of her head. “We need to talk.”
She nodded.
*
Luke poured her another glass of wine as they admired the view of the city’s lights welcoming the sunset from the balcony. He listened to every single word, but it wasn’t enough. She held the pain too tight and too close to her heart and he couldn’t take it from her. It was a part of her and it always would be.
Mostly she stared into the night as if she were looking at everything and nothing at the same time, but she’d give him an occasional glance filled with worry, searching for judgment in his eyes.
“Jessica …” he held out his hand, having reached his limit, no longer able to resist. He needed her touch.
She looked at it for a moment before taking it. He pulled her over onto his lap.