Page 109 of Heart So Hollow

“You do it again, I’ll end you and then make sure everyone knows what you are,” I look her up and down with such disgust that I might as well be surveying a rotting elephant carcass, “the fucking angel of death.”

Hannah looks like she’s about to either faint or puke her guts out, and that’s my cue to head out. I turn and waltz out of the room, leaving her shaking and whimpering into her hand. But as I step through the doorway, I glance over my shoulder to say goodbye.

Like a gentleman.

“Does Hildy still not know what you did?” I snarl, “Some friend you are.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Brett

Present

“We went out into our woods over the weekend and he started teaching me how to shoot.”

Judy doesn’t miss a beat, “With what type of gun?”

I remember her telling me that her husband is a big game hunter, so she probably knows her way around some firearms, at least enough to talk about them.

I take a deep breath, feeling her zero in on my hesitation, “It was a Glock,” I reply, “the same kind...” I trail off, confident she already knows what I’m about to say.

And I’m right, she doesn’t bat an eye, “Given your past experiences, how do you feel about that?”

“He said it would probably help, that I won’t be so afraid of them if I know how to handle one myself.”

“That’s understandable,” she nods, “but I asked how you feel about it.”

Damnit. “Better than I thought I would,” I admit.

The truth is, I hated holding his gun at first, because the last time I held it I learned something both empowering and frightening about myself. And before that…

Let me put it this way, I hated holding his gun, but I loved being out in our woods, and I think that’s what changed my mind. I was standing with him, in our woods, together, while he brought me one step closer to not being afraid anymore. From the moment I set foot on that property, when I walked into the house, and then when he took me deep into those woods, I knew I belonged there.

I knew I was home.

“He offered to do it a while ago, but I wasn’t ready. But this time—I don’t know—I just knew it was time. And he was right, it’s what I needed to do.”

Judy narrows her eyes, taking a sip from her pastel purple Stanley water bottle, “How did you know?”

“After—” I pause, unsure of how to even label it, “after I got away, he asked me if I wanted to know what it feels like to be a predator. And the truth is that I did, more than anything. Because I knew there was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of anyone, and that was it. To be fearless and protect the people he loves, he had to become a predator himself.”

I appreciate that Judy is an expressive person. While so many therapists sit there, stone faced, staring at you with an air of condescension, she wears her emotions on her sleeve. It makes me feel validated even when I’m saying the most fucked up shit imaginable to her. And this time is no different.

She sounds intrigued, “That’s a pretty intense position to take.”

I let out a grunt in response, “I mean, you’ve met him...”

“I have,” Judy flashes her eyes and doesn’t even try to hide her smile, “and I understand my colleague, Mark Holloway, has had quite a field day with him. Mark said he’s found—” she hesitates with a smile, “interesting ways to deal with grief.”

That’s an understatement.

“Mark didn’t elaborate further, of course, but your boyfriend’s quite an interesting man,” she pauses in consideration, “very complex and multidimensional.”

I look down, trying to stifle a laugh, but it sneaks out anyway.

Multidimensional…

“You’re smiling,” Judy grins, “what do you think of that?”

---