Page 48 of One Kill

Tears streak down my face as I continue to push through the pain now coming in continuous waves without giving me enough of a break to breathe through it.

“Suit yourself.”

The banging on the wall confuses me until the hard rhythm reminds me of a boat on the sea, the waves hitting the wood at even intervals. Like the headboard of my parents’ bed hitting the wall at a fast, even pace.

My hands are on my ears as I try my best to block out the sounds of my mother’s dignity being ripped away from her. All I can hear is her praying.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…” Over and over again she begs her God to keep her safe, to keep her soul safe, but I know, deep in the very fiber of my being, that she’s praying to God to keep me and my baby safe.

When the intruder roars out his satisfaction and my mother’s prayers grow louder and louder, everything stops and I freeze. My vagina is impossibly stretched and I’ve got the uncontrollable urge to push the baby out but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. If I do, she’ll cry and we’ll be found.

I have to protect us.

I have to save us.

I have to saveher.

“Where. Is. The. Fucking. Money?”

My body is contorted in pain, my belly burning from my opening to my chest as I try to stop this birth until it’s safe.

“I…” A deep, guttural sob escapes my mother’s lips, the desperation hitting me deep in my soul. “Don’t. Know.”

“Suit yourself.” He repeats his same ominous words before the sound of a gunshot echoes through the room. Knowing what’s happening on the other side of the wall and not being able to do anything about it feels like I took a bullet, too. Something in me dies in that moment, leaving a void for a new me to be born, but my instinct to survive keeps me quiet.

I stay silent as the man rifles through my parents’ bedroom, even inside the closet without ever touching the wall that hides me.

I stay quiet as he goes through the entire home, yelling out my name but getting no response.

I stay quiet as my body pushes out a baby that I’ve tried to protect all this time by not letting it out.

I stay quiet as the front door slams and silence follows.

I stay quiet as I finally, desperately, get myself and the baby out of the cubby hole and look for scissors to cut the umbilical cord.

But when my baby stays quiet throughout all of that, her eyes tightly closed, her mouth slightly open, I scream so loudly I’m surprised the walls didn’t shake down through to the foundations.

Holding my baby to my chest, I walk out of the closet only to find a scene from a horror movie in front of me.

Blood. Blood is everywhere. On me, on the floor where my father’s head is swimming in a pool of it. The bed, where my mother’s spread legs are soaking from where her head wound has bled all over the covers.

A wall shuts down as I remember why she’s dead. Why they’re both dead.

Placing a kiss on my baby’s forehead, I tell her I love her before I place her on the bed, a cover over her little body. Then I push my mother’s bloody limbs together because I don’t want her dignity to take another hit when whoever finds them sees her in this indecent position.

Then, with pain becoming a second skin and almost a companion, I grab the bag that my mother said she knew nothing about and walk to the door, not giving a second glance to my old life.

That memory slashes through my heart, my brain fighting to keep me sane as I try to drive this truck as fast as I can to save my daughter and Murphy.

One thing I can say is that Crank is a helluva mechanic because this beat-up truck took the abuse like a fucking champ. No amount of swerving, slamming of brakes, and break-neck speeding had any kind of effect on this monster. When I’m close enough to see Murph’s place, I pull up against the curb, three houses down, and watch the house like a fucking hawk.

It’s quiet, not a fucking soul around, which is normal for a little past two in the morning but still… nothing is sitting right with me and if there’s one thing I trust, it’s my gut.

The rumble of Flower’s turbos draws my gaze to the rearview and I see her pulling up behind me. We both sit for a minute before slipping out of our vehicles and, with just a silent nod, cementing our earlier plan. I slink away into the night, using the shadows as my camouflage while Flower waits for Crank to arrive.

Because I’m not an idiot, I don’t go in with guns blazing and ask questions later. That’s ridiculous and only works in the movies. In real life, you assess your threat, recon, then regroup. Which is exactly what I do as I circle the house, hiding in the dark patches between the street lights. Wearing all black always helps. By the time I’ve assessed the whole place, I realize that, although it’s late at night and in a family neighborhood where it’s expected for everyone to be asleep, I’m surprised Murphy’s light isn’t on. The kind of adrenaline we just had injected from the fear of losing Hallie isn’t something you get over that easily.

Then again, I’m no doctor and maybe he’s just passed out from said adrenaline rush.

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