Page 92 of Demise

“Your hands will do.”

I nod curtly once as he steps to the side in front of Ronan. My eyes catch his, and nothing but devastation can be seen in his gaze as he looks at me. Ronan squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head in condolences. To her or maybe to my morality. Possibly both.

Looking down at this woman, my heart seizes in my chest. The likeness to my mother is uncanny. Then again, maybe that’s my own sick and twisted mind playing tricks on me. Her eyes, though, they’re the same shade of hazel. Her hair is even a similar color of brown.

My gut twists and turns as I look at this unfortunate woman who did nothing wrong but be born into this fucked up world. Nothing wrong but experience the loss of a child not once but three times over, and now, she is losing her life through no fault of her own. And I have to be the one to do it.

Emotion is choking me from the inside out. I can’t breathe, I can barely even see. I do a remarkable job of not letting it show.Slowly, I lay her down, easily overpowering her thin, willowy limbs as I straddle her chest.

Tears are pouring down her face as she attempts to fight me off, but she barely moves me. It doesn’t stop her from fighting; she’s so strong. Stronger than she probably knows, stronger than every man in here probably knows. Then again, the way her husband is looking at her tells me he might very well know. Another factor that no doubt has played a part in her untimely demise.

I lean down slowly, forcing a sneer on my face that I hope is convincing enough as I press my lips to her ear.

“I’m sorry. Close your eyes.”

When my head lifts back up, I conjure a smile that would make the devil himself proud as my hands wrap around her thin throat. Her eyes shut as a muffled whimper escapes her before I squeeze. She does her best to keep them closed, but I clench my hands around her as tightly as possible, forcing them to spring wide open. They burn into me deeper than any brand ever could. I can feel the terrified look etching its way into my mind, saving itself for all of my nightmares, all of my thoughts from now until eternity.

She gags and gasps, attempting to breathe, but I only hold on tighter, strangling her until my entire body begins to shake from the impact. Still, like the fighter she is, she hangs on, those pleading hazel eyes plucking at something buried deep inside. Something horrific.

So many memories of my mother with a similar look, my father’s hands wrapped around her throat, come to the surface, tearing me from the inside out.

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. I can’t.

Squeezing my own eyes shut, I clench my jaw tight and jerk my arms sharply to the left, the sharp pop of her neck breaking echoing throughout the room. Instantly, the strain in her givesway, her entire body going limp and head lulling to the broken side. I feel my hands shaking and no matter how hard I try to stop them, they won’t.

So, I stand, forcing myself to do it slowly so it doesn’t look like I’m desperate to pry myself off this woman’s body. But I am.

I don’t realize that my chest is heaving, my breathing erratic as I look around the room, doing a full circle as I meet the eyes of every man in this room. I linger on Jackson’s for several seconds, a vindictive smirk on his face as he stares at his dead wife before my gaze comes to my father. That same sinister smile from before is practically splitting his face in two as he steps forward.

He pulls a small black box out of his robe pocket, opening it up to show me. Like a carbon copy of every other Elder ring, that big embossed ‘B’ surrounded with Latin script.

Maleficis esse mori.

Death to witches.

I don’t see any witches in this room, though. All I see is a room full of egotistical cowards and one innocent woman who paid the ultimate price of their ways.

Regardless, I pluck the ring from the box, sliding the smooth metal onto my ring finger. I never got a wedding ring, obviously, and I don’t need one. No Elder wears one. This is more important. A direct vein running from this finger to my heart, signifying my truest love, my truest devotion will always be to the Brethren.

My father nods approvingly, all Elders chanting much like they did in the woods that night.

“Maleficis esse mori.”

All as one, they stop and my father nods.

“Welcome to the Brethren.”

I stood in the shower for over an hour. Far longer than anyone wanted me to, but I couldn't help it. I had to scrub my hands twenty-two times, and even then, I couldn’t remove it. It’s worse than blood; it’s more permanent than that. This heavy feeling has penetrated into my hands, and like an inky black tar, it can’t be removed.

I can still feel her throat in my hands, the sound of her neck cracking lives in my ears forevermore. Those eyes…that look of terror and pain. That will surely never leave me, ever.

When I was finally able to pry myself out of the scalding water, I slip on some clothes that I brought with me. I have to go to this fucking party. Make an appearance. Even if the only thing I want to do is crawl beneath a fucking rock and rot.

Like she is.

Shaking my head, I make my way out of the tunnels and find Ronan waiting for me outside the church. He claps my shoulder, and I move out of his hold, continuing to move forward. I hear a heavy sigh escape him, but he follows after me silently.

When we get in the car, I look out the window, focusing on nothing and everything. Ronan climbs into the driver’s seat, starting it up and turning out onto the road when he speaks.

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