Page 49 of Last Breath

As Mal walks to the front, I see him glance over his shoulder to check on me. He’s looking to see if I can be civil in such a setting.

This isn’t one of our usual stops. There are families, older couples, grandparents, truckers, kids on the way to soccer practice, and father’s yelling at said kids. All of it causes a full building of angst.

Containing my tendency to inflict judgment, I wonder if I can be…good? If I can keep the psychotic devil that tells me to cleanse the world in a holding pattern. It’s not me that chooses to be this, it’s the voice in my head that requests it. I’ve heard it all my life.

Some days I can hold it back.

Some I can’t.

It’s dark, harsh, and the little devil is under the impression his will is correct.

Starting toward the back, the air is tight. I feel something sinister. There’s an air of fear, mayhem, and destruction that calls to my devil. He knows when there’s fun to be had and relishes the tendency to maim. Rounding the corner, turning to the ladies’ single stall bathroom, I open the unlocked door.

Joy is nowhere to be seen. Walking farther down the hall, the only other door around is the one that takes you to the kitchen. It should be buzzing with the packed restaurant out front, but it’s devoid of sound.

I have a feeling this is where I’ll find Joy.

Opening the door, the anticipation of blood feeds my darkness. I don’t have my usual blades, only my switchblade that I keep on hand at all times. It’s not enough to satisfy my dark partner, but it’ll have to do.

He’s excited to play.

“Are you back here, Joy?” I bark out. No use in being quiet. If she isn’t, the staff will tell me off. If she is, the quiet will alert them that someone is poking around.

When there’s no reply, I know something’s going on. No cooks, no wait staff, and no one of importance in sight. Taking my blade out, flicking the button and running my finger along its super sharp length, my blood pools on the edge.

Licking my finger, the tang soothes the devil, reminding him of what he’s in for. Blood. Lots of blood if anyone has harmed her. She’s ours. If anyone has hurt her, they’ll get a firsthand experience of how cruel and intense I can be. Yes, Joy saw what I did to my father, and when we’d stopped to grab her clothing, I noticed the specks of blood on her shirt so I know she can handle the sinister and dark that I am. Neither Mal or I pushed her about what happened at that clothing store.

She’d come out with new clothing, like we’d asked for, but the blood on her shirt told a story. Something profound had occurred and she’d been quietly tight-lipped. So I left it that way. If she was good to do the damage but needed to compartmentalize it, that was fine. After all, I do. There’s the side of me that still has weakness and childlike awe about the world, then there’s my devil. My devil felt it. He’d sensed the destruction of life. He always knows when death is around.

He also knows when there’s fun to be had.

Stepping into the space, I hear, “Hold her, man. She’s a little girl, there’s no reason you can’t get it done.”

Someone has our Joy, the devil says, cooing his excitement. Pulling up around a row of boxes, I see her legs splayed out as two men are trying to pin her in place, attempting to strip her of clothing, and she’s fighting them.

That means she’ll enjoy this all the more.

Moving around the boxes, coming into Joy’s view, I smile. Coming up behind the first greasy-handed piece of trash, I don’t give him a chance to beg for his life. As his hand searches her shorts, I thrust the blade high into the back of his neck. There’s no chance of living from that blow. I know, I’ve done it enough. As the blood coats my blade, my devil vibrates with delight. Flopping forward onto Joy’s prone body, I yank on the back of his kitchen bib to toss his body aside.

“Charlie!” Lifting off the floor in a rush to face me, the other man is spoiling to avenge his friend. “What the hell did you do to Charlie?”

Without an ounce of remorse, I grin gleefully. Raising my blade, twirling it around by the hilt, I sneer, “Charlie has left the building.” Leaning forward, pushing my blade once more into soft flesh, he grinds out a guttural yell as the knife sticks deep in his thigh.

Clawing at the knife hilt, he falls back. As he moves, Joy has the opportunity to scamper off a safe distance from him.

Scrambling to gather what clothing she has left before stepping toward me, Joy turns my way. Giving her my full attention, I ask, “Are you okay?”

She nods quickly, and without fear. “Yeah. I’m okay, Salem.”

“Good.” I grin, turning my attention to the idiot screaming. “Because it’s your turn to play.”

Watching as the asshole attempts to pull my butterfly knife out inch by inch, cursing each movement, my devil is purring as blood slowly trickles down his leg.

“Joy.” Dragging her attention from the man wailing back to me, she turns her eyes to meet mine. “Select a knife, love.” I point to the rack of blades beside us. “We’re in a kitchen full of knives. Show me what you want. What does he deserve?”

Smiling and rising off the floor with a lightness in her movements, Joy steps over the dead Charlie. Thumbing a few of the blades, running her finger along them, hefting one or two to check the balance, Joy finally selects a boning knife. “I like this one.”

“Of course you do.” Feeling my devil sing, I know he’s content. She’s not shying away, she’s advancing on the course I’ve laid out with excitement.

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