Page 8 of Slay Bells Ring

“I might not know a lot, but I do know I struck a nerve. What happened? Maybe talking about it will make you feel better.” As she suggests it, she smiles like she’s glad she got under my skin, and it suddenly occurs to me that maybe she’s using the same playbook as me. Maybe this is all to annoy me so much I decide to throw in the towel and leave, hand over the cabin to her, and let her win.

No. Fuck that.

Fuck her.

Fuck all of this.

Looming over her sitting figure, I growl out, “The things I’ve done would make someone like you have nightmares for the rest of your life.”

Her gaze studies my figure, my closeness, and lastly my face. Georgina is slow to stand, mere inches away from me as she tilts her head back to continue holding my stare. “You don’t have to worry about me having nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, you should be worrying about yourself, because it seems to me you’re trapped in one of those nightmares right now, and you’re trying to avoid it by drowning yourself in alcohol. How’s that working out for you?”

There are a million things I could say to her. Hell, she’s tiny. She said she could take care of herself, but I bet I could throw her outside on her ass no matter what she tries with me.

But I don’t do any of that, nor do I say a single word more to her. My plan of annoying her to the point where she leaves backfired in my face, because the next thing I know I’m grabbing my jacket, pushing my feet into my boots, and taking my bottle with me as I venture outside in the brisk, snow-filled air just to get out of that damned cabin and away from that woman.

Is she my personal tormentor? I must have the shittiest luck in the world for this to happen.

I wander away from the cabin, drinking as I go. The air is cold and biting, but the alcohol keeps me warm enough. The blueness of the sky is completely hidden by thick clouds. Snow falls, adding onto the already-white landscape. The cabin, nestled inside a mountain range, has a small grove of pine trees to its southern end, buteverywhere else is a winter wonderland of untouched snow.

It’s a perfect place to die, really. Wander off and never look back.

But if I wander off now and never look back, someone would know. Georgina would know, and even though she’s a stranger to me, this isn’t something I can do with anyone knowing. My death wasn’t supposed to matter. No one was supposed to be aware of it.

Goddamn it. The one time I want to do something for myself I get fucked.

I stay outside for a long time, way past the point where my bottle is emptied, its contents in my stomach. The wind whips at my face, biting at my bare flesh. I don’t know what I’m going to do, how the hell I can salvage this, but I do know one thing.

I still have time. The curtain didn’t fall yet.

Chapter Five – Holly

Kane remains outside for the longest time. For so long, in fact, I start to wonder if he got lost out there. I didn’t hear his car start up, which means he’s just wandering the snowy landscape. Whatever. I don’t care. If he’s drinking himself into a stupor while pouting out there, let him. It’ll be easier for me to do what I need to do if he’s blackout drunk, anyway.

I spend the time by myself sitting by the fire, watching as the flames slowly eat away at the logs. My mind isn’t filled with any thoughts in particular. After all these years, with nothing but vengeance in my heart, I’ve mastered the art of disassociating. Zoning out. Shutting everything down until I’m just there. Not dead, but not alive, either.

That night shook me to my core. It terrified me. Facing death when you’re ten years old tends to do that to you. Trauma molds you, shapes you into what it wants, and unless you put in the work to fix yourself, you become a slave to it.

Howard wanted me to go to therapy, so I did for a few years, until it became clear it was a waste of time. I didn’t want to get over the deaths of my parents. The only thing I ever wanted was justice.

Justice for my parents. Justice for their last moments. Justice for the innocent girl who died in that cabin with them.

Kane is only the first. I’ll kill however many I have to until I find out who hired him, until every single person who had a hand in it lies colder than the snow outside.

I get hungry after a while, so I go for another one of my bars. By the time Kane comes back, it’s clear he’s either drunk or highly buzzed, because the bottle he took with him is nowhere to be found, and he drags his feet and slumps his shoulders as he walks, unsteady. He doesn’t even look at me as he stumbles by. The final thing I hear is the bedroom door slamming shut.

Kane’s nothing but a drunk. Honestly, it makes my life easier. His stash of alcohol isn’t in the kitchen, meaning he kept it in the bedroom. I hope he keepsdrinking well into the night, lost in whatever is bothering him.

Tonight’s the night.

I wait. I stay hydrated. I do some stretching and calisthenics to keep myself limber. The impatience within me grows with each passing hour. Outside, day gives way to dusk and dusk to night shortly after.

I crawl onto my sofa bed, just in case Kane decides to venture out and check if I’m asleep. Call me psychic, but I don’t think he will. As I lay there, waiting for an ungodly hour, everything I want to do to that man comes to life, so vivid in my imagination I can taste his blood.

The fire dims. When it’s time, I slowly lift myself off the sofa bed and tiptoe across the cabin, stopping only when I reach the bedroom. The door is closed. It’s black in this area of the cabin, but my eyes are adjusted, so I see enough. My hand reaches for the knob.

Time for the true test.

As quiet as a mouse, I turn the knob. The cabin’s not made for privacy, so there isn’t a lock to be had other than the one on the front door. It opens with no resistance, and I poke my head in and find Kane sprawled out on the bed, his wide figure passed out, another bottle in the crook of his arm.

---