Page 90 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

The combination leaves them helplessly compliant.

She lets Rube feed her the last inch of whiskey. When she shudders as the booze hits her throat, her convulsion reaches me through the seat cushion. Before I can stop myself, my hand’s around her throat. I push her back against the couch, and she lets me. There’s not even a sliver of fear in her eyes—just hopeless abandon.

Do your worst, Zachary.

Snuff out my life like the others. Why not? What else could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know?

But then it hits me.

It’s not what I need fromher.

It’s whatsheneeds fromus.

If she honestly thinks this friend of hers is the pure, innocent priest from her past, then we need to set her straight. It’s a pity, having to break something so pretty…but at least the four of us will be there to pick up the pieces.

“How do you want him to fuck you?” My voice comes from far away as I start to disassociate from the moment, from what I’m about to do.

Her pulse quickens under my thumb.

“Like in the drawing,” she says. Her lips curl up into a faint smile. “The one Cass—Cass’s—ius drew.”

“You can call him Cass,” I murmur, leaning close, applying a little more pressure on her throat. She squirms a little, her eyelids flickering. But she’s been numbed to everything—panic included.

It’s better this way.

I know from experience.

Rube’s hand enters my view. He fixes the rosary around Trinity’s neck, positioning the crucifix just-so between her heaving breasts. Then he trails his fingertips down the center of her body.

Her stomach convulses at his touch, fluttering like a butterfly’s wing.

She giggles.

I flinch at that innocent, happy sound as it wrenches me back into the here and now.

My hand tightens. I shove her back hard enough to dislodge Rube’s hand and to recapture her attention.

“Did he ever touch you?” I ask again.

“No,” she gasps. “Never.”

“Good.” I sit back, releasing her throat and flexing my fingers.

Rube lays a hand on her stomach, and it nearly covers her belly. “You should be thankful,” he says.

Trinity rests her head back, slowly bringing a hand to her throat. She strokes the faint marks I left behind as her eyes move to Reuben. “Why?”

Her voice is thick now, her tongue sluggish as it forms the word. I guess she wasn’t lying when she said she doesn’t drink. She’s minutes—perhaps even seconds—from passing out.

“He would have defiled you,” Rube tells her mournfully. “Just like the others.”

Chapter 31

Trinity

“…take it to…drinks it all.”

I open my eyes to orange-tinted darkness. It feels like someone’s standing on my head. They may, possibly, be the same culprit who rubbed grit in my eyes. I push onto my hands and glance around.

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