Page 48 of Last Breath

Before long, I’ve poured over the maps long enough that my coffee grows cold.

“I added an extra side of bacon. I thought you’d like that. After all, you did tip pretty good.”

“Thanks. Mind if I take this?” I ask about the map I’d been reading.

“Sure,” she says. “We always have copies at the front desk. Don’t worry about returning it.” She sets three cups on the counter. “I thought you could use another. Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” Juggling the teetering cups and bags of food, I try to balance them on my chin. This is going to end badly.

“You look awkward. Here, use this.” She bends down behind the counter. “Just bring it back as I only have so many of them.”

Stuffing the cups into the travel tray she offers, I start back to our room.

Chapter 27

Salem

Sleeping on the ground in the desert, that seems right to me. Using my T-shirt as a pillow, that was the norm for me as a child. Sleeping in a cushy bed with fluffy pillows, dark wallpaper, and Joy wrapped around my body? It seems surreal. All of this has my mind reeling and my teeth on edge.

Lying in such luxury, I have a high expectation that by my cock I’ll be dragged from it. Envisioning the first strike as I’m thrown against the wall, beaten and told how this isn’t for me, my heart races.

This softness isn’t mine to coddle.

Tress reminded me of that every day. No, every second of every day. Controlling the overriding need to flinch and run to the corner, I calm myself. With the sun peeking through the blinds, my eyes see the sensual and lovely Joy beside me, but my mind is screaming how wrong this is. Killing Tress a few months back, everything should have clicked in this noggin and slid all the parts into place. At least that was my hope. But,as expected,it never happened. Other doors clicked open that the devil had been containing and newer, more devious little dark demons appeared. Now, blood and retribution has become satisfaction and destruction. Knowing that someone was receiving the same pain as I used to was enough for me to mete out punishment. After Malachi changed our rules with Joy, I can’t control the urges. It’s becoming harder and harder to seem—sane.

I could never pull off the normal that society has decided is acceptable. With the flood gates open, a prosecutor would have a hard time deeming me unfit for trial. There are many examples of why I say this, why I can’t look at myself objectively, and why I only see the darkness that I’ve let into my life. Thing is, I won’t make excuses. I was molded into this and I’ll accept the man I’ve become. It fits me more than that of a wounded child. Tress beat him, breaking my soul, but I killed the softness that was left.

Looking around the room, I don’t see Mal. He must have gone out to grab coffee. When I shift slightly, trying to rise up farther on the pillow, Joy groans. Tucking herself in tighter to my side, with her head resting in the crook of my arm, that tiny scar of hers shines silvery in the morning sunshine. I remember the exact moment she got it.

We’d only been on the road for a few weeks. After leaving her grandmother’s house, she’d asked us to stop at an I-Hop. It was something her littlehick towndidn’t have, and she’d only had the pleasure of going to once before. That, and she’d mentioned that pancakes and waffles were not something she was expressly great at making.

Joy was excited as she spoke about her past trip. It was the wildest thing I’d ever seen. Unfortunately, the I-Hop was under repairs and Ed’s Pancake and Waffle House was the best we could find.

She took twenty minutes pouring over the menu like it offered a thousand choices and comparing it to the I-Hop choices. Eventually, she ate two sets of pancakes, more bacon than I thought someone her size could have room for, and at least a gallon of orange juice.

“I need the bathroom.” We’ve been waiting for the waitress to come back with the bill, and Joy’s been bouncing in her chair. We’re not afraid she’ll run and tell the authorities, I’m comfortable enough that she won’t, but I don’t like letting her out of my sight. After the antics at the clothing store, and the story that she’s kept to herself, I know there’s a reason to keep an eye on her.

“Don’t take long,” Mal tells her. As she buzzes off to the rear, I pick at the food left behind. One of the side effects of my wrecked childhood is that I can never finish a meal. My habits were to steal anything edible, expect nothing to be given and hope for food the next day. To have it placed in front of me and assume I won’t be punished for eating it feels…dangerous.

After Malachi pays the waitress a hefty tip, more time than I can handle has passed with no Joy in sight.

“What’s taking her so long?” Mal grumbles, looking around at the patrons eyeing him. It sets my teeth on edge. What gives them the right to judge us? Him? Malachi is the best man I know. They see his scars and automatically assume he’s a monster. Their assumption of him as a vagrant, a lowlife, and a thug is the complete opposite of who he is. To them he’s the Joker character from all those Batman movies and comics. They’re so wrong. He’s the sane one. I’m the Joker.

They don’t expect me.

Their idea of the angelic exterior, bright eyes and sweet smile doesn’t express the contained, angry, slightly unhinged human I am. The devil wears a suit, a tie, and can pull you apart with a flick of his switchblade. And how I love the feeling of tearing flesh.

More than I should.

“We need to check on her, Mal.” I’m agitated as it’s been too long.

Looking at his newly stolen watch, Mal agrees. “I’ll go get—”

“Don’t worry. I got it,” I say, touching his hand.

“You sure?” I see the trepidation in his face. He’s worried if I can do this without bloodshed.

“Yeah. See you in a few.” Rising up, I turn back. “Pull the car up out back, we’ll be quick.”

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