Page 123 of All Your Hate

“Evie?” I see it now, her hair was bleached blonde when I knew her at the club. She told everyone she was eighteen, but she was just a kid. Did Jackson know that when he hired her?

“No.” I press a hand to my mouth to stop myself from throwing up.

“The young woman is suspected to have been pregnant at the time of her death.”

My hand tightens around the remote.

“No!”

I already knew that I wasn’t the first to be used by Tommaso, but to see it in real-time like this hits differently.

Was she sold by Dmitri as well? What about the other missing girls?

My head whirls with questions and there’s only one way to get answers. Dmitri. He’s the key to it all.

The broadcast changes to a pre-recorded shot of Daniella Abato walking down the street, her head down as she wears all black. She looks worse than when I saw her before. Now she’s truly burdened with the weight of her late husband's sins.

How could she have missed everything going on in that house?

The screen changes again and this time it’s to a photo of her and Tommaso on their wedding day. They look so different. Her long black hair stands out against her white dress. Then it hits me.

Tommaso was picking out anyone that looked like his wife used to.

Dmitri mentioned my hair when he was speaking to his friends in Russian that night he took me.

Evie’s dark hair. Mine.

Was it all for some sick sexual fantasy or did he think he could surprise his wife with a twisted gift? A newborn that they could pass as their own. They’re old enough for a biological baby of theirs to be questioned, but stranger things have happened in the world.

Whatever the reason, I need him to stop existing completely.

The remote flies out of my hand. It moves in slow motion before it goes straight into the television, cracking the screen, but it keeps playing.

I start grabbing everything within reach, throwing it at the screen until finally it goes dark.

It’s not enough though. I need to get this feeling out of my body. My skin feels hot and tight like all I want to do is tear it off. I grab my hair and scream as loudly as I can until my throat aches.

When I try to walk, my body feels light, but my feet feel heavy. The room starts to spin as I take a few steps.

What’s happening? I hold my hand in front of my face and suddenly there are two of them. No, it's just my reflection.

Moving my hand out of the way I seeherstaring back at me. “No! You’re not here! You’re not me!” I cry out as she stares back at me with such sorrow. I was just coming to terms with my body and I thought she wasn’t a problem for me anymore. Seeing thathouse has brought it all back. All the pain. All the hate. All the fear.

I don’t think before my fist hits the mirror. The bite of glass against my skin is just what I need. I hit it again and again until there’s more blood than glass left inside the frame.

Unclenching my shaking fist, blood drips from my knuckles down onto my toes.

Watching it reminds me of my mom and how the last memory I have of her is her dead body.

As strong as I’ve always tried to be about her death, I miss her so much.

All my life I’ve been kept busy. First, it was keeping my grades up then it was taking care of Summer when Mom couldn’t.

There were days I wished I didn’t have to play Mom to my little sister, but now that it’s been taken away from me I want it back.

My mind’s moving so fast that I can barely keep up with my own train of thought.

Clutching my head I try to step over the broken glass, but my vision gets blurry and I trip. My hands land just next to it.

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