Page 73 of Vengeance

“That’s right, bitch.”

“Why were you worried, Billy? You don’t worry. It’s one of the things I always envied about you,” she says, hoping to pull him back from his sociopathic side.

He sniffles. “Because it’s cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“That’s what the papers called the house. It’s why no one will buy it. It’s been for sale since my grandfather died, and no one wants to touch it. There aren’t even lowbrow offers to laugh at.”

Her head aches, and she closes her eyes. “The papers wrote about the house? Did something happen here?”

“Did something happen here?” he asks with a laugh and turns to slam the cord against the wall instead of Tara’s body, and she hates how she flinches. “My grandfather happened here. He was a sadistic sociopath who took pleasure in torturing others. The town may call it cursed, but it was always a house of horrors to me.”

Pity. The feeling surprises her, but she can’t help but pity Billy. He never talked about his past or his family other than what he had to, but if the name he has for the house is any indication, he may not have stood a chance at being a normal, emotionally available human. Maybe, just maybe, he could’ve been a decent person if someone didn’t hurt him as a child.

“He found it funny to tie me up to my bed at night, much like I have you, and he didn’t let me out in the morning. He’d keep me tied up until I thought my bladder would explode, and then he’d beat me for pissing the bed. I’m pretty sure he did it to give himself a reason to beat the living shit out of me. Make me piss myself was the reason.”

Just like Lenetta did to Matty. He must’ve done the same to Billy’s sister. ”I’m sorry he did that.”

Punching the wall, he shakes his head and avoids looking at her. “The day I slit his throat was the best day of my life.”

His words shock her, and when he turns around to glare at her, he has a smirk on his face that makes her want to vomit. He’s not upset. He’s building the anticipation. No, he’s getting pleasure from reliving the kill.

“You thought Matty’s mother was my first kill, but you’re wrong, Tara. She was...” He looks up at the ceiling and lifts his fingers. “... my fifth.”

Fifth? ”What?”

“Good ol’ Gramps was my first. Watching him bleed out in front of me, terrified for the first time in his miserable fucking life, was the greatest feeling in the entire fucking world. Then, I killed my mom. That bitch kept sending me here to stay with him, even when I told her how he beat me. She knew because he did the same shit to her. Worse shit, actually. But she didn’t care. She gave me to him to save her pathetic self.”

Tara swallows, her mouth suddenly dry and sore. “You killed your own mom?”

“That bitch deserved it. And she knew it. I could see it in her eyes. She was thankful I’d done it. Saved her from continuing her miserable life. Then I found my father, and I murdered him, too.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he shouts and snaps the cord on her leg, making her shin bleed. A sick smile appears as she yelps. “Because I was always told he walked out on Mom when she told him she was knocked up. Turns out, I’m the product of a drunken one-night stand, and he threw money at her to take care of me. Maybe she should have gotten that abortion after all.”

Jesus Christ, did he have a single normal person in his life?

“Unlike Mom and Gramps, he had a lot to live for, so he begged for his life. Offered me money. Anything. But I told him that what I want, he can’t give me. And the second best thing I can get, I have to take myself.”

Against her better judgment, Tara asks, “What did you want?”

The cord whips and cuts her left breast, and the tears slip out of the corner of her eyes before she can stop them. Inflicting pain on her seems to both amp him up and calm him down at the same time. “My fucking childhood. He couldn’t give me that, so the next best thing was his life. I took that.”

“Who was the fourth person?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“You told me Matty’s mom was your fifth, and then you told me the first three. I thought you wanted to confess to someone about to be at least your sixth victim.”

His eyebrows lift. “Like you’re my confessor in a manner of speaking?”

“That could work, I guess. But it sounds like you want to brag about your achievements. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re wearing a fucking wire. I would’ve found it when I stripped you naked. Even bleeding and red, I would fuck you. The only thing I’ve missed about you is your body.”

She has to get him back on track before he tries. “Does that mean you do or don’t want to tell me who the fourth person was?”

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