Page 110 of Lost Girl

Hand falling to the familiar knob, I twist it and push the door open. The stench hits me immediately, but it’s not as powerful as I was expecting, leaving me to wonder for a fleeting moment how it was strong enough to carry through to the kitchen to begin with. Strong or not, that decayed smell triggers all the memories I wish I could forget. I’ve not even stepped a foot inside, and I feel it all coming back to me in an overwhelming wave. I squelch it down, but I know it won’t be much longer until the dam bursts open.

Much like the rest of the place, the room is almost completely intact. The only thing missing is the sheets, the mattress, and bed frame left behind. I take inventory of everything as I make my way in, scoping every inch of the space.

And that’s when I see it—the dried crimson puddle that will forever stain the ivory carpet. That’s where the smell seeps from the strongest, billowing up my nose and down my throat.

I’m gagging around it and, unlike the day Tinksley took me to Peter’s, seeing that festering plash catapults me back to that night...

Venom drips off her words, so much that I swallow deeply. Audibly. “How do you know my name?”

“The question you should be asking is, why didn’t you know mine until right now?” This Tinksley girl seems to take great pleasure in the way I consider her query. “It’s not important, really. Only serves to reiterate my point. He just liked to fuck me.”

“Tinksley, stop.” Peter croaks, snapping her stare back on his form.

“Why? Afraid I’ll tell her about your dirty little secret?” she snickers.

“Stop,” he tries again, clearly panicking. About what, I’m not sure.

Fingertip skating the white iron frame of the footboard, she starts making her way to his side of the bed. “Think she’ll still love you then, Peter?”

Huh?

“Peter, what is she talking about?” I’m clinging to his arm, stare boring into the side of his chiseled face.

“STOP!” he barks at her, making way to stand should she get too close.

In a flash, the man she came with moves from his spot before the window and briskly yanks me onto my feet. His hand slaps over my mouth from behind, muffling the shrill shooting out from my throat. “I’m going to need you to stay where you are, or your little dolly’s pretty blue nightgown might get a bit dirty.”

“Stay away from her,” Peter grates, his eyes flicking to mine as my heart thrashes.

“Then watch how you talk to what’s mine,” the man growls, tightening his hold on me.

From that moment right there.

I should’ve known from that very moment right there that my life was minutes away from being turned upside down.

But the truth hadn’t come to light yet, and even when it did, it would take quite some time for naive little Wendy to realize the verity of it all...

“Why do you keep laughing?” My voice quakes in uncertainty.

“Because this just keeps getting better and better.” Tinksley shakes her head. “In all fairness, his mother was killed, and technically, he was ripped out of his home, but it wasn’t her murderers who took him.”

“Then who?” I’m gawking at Peter as I ask this.

“He’sthe murderer.” Hook grinds wickedly, stealing the air from my lungs.

“That’s right, sweet Wendy. Your man killed his mommy, all so your daddy couldn’t have her. You know, in the name of love and all of that,” Tinksley throws back flippantly.

Even then—she’d outed him then, and all I could think was they were lying, that there was no way my Peter was capable of the atrocity they claimed.

He was capable of so much more, though, so much more, and if Tinksley had never ended him that night, I’d probably still be living obliviously beside him, thinking he was the greatest love of my life.

That thought mixed the stench of his demise drops me to knees, my stomach churning around another dry heave.

“Why did your father come for him?” I ask Tinksley.

“Tinksley, DON’T,” Peter pipes up suddenly.

Eyes narrowing, a gratified smile carves itself on her lips. “Because he’s his father, too,” she decrees.

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