Page 126 of The Catalyst

“Not nice,” Patti says, her voice trembling.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to go somewhere much better, but I need you girls to do something for me. My friend and I need to talk to your parents, but we need you to stay right here and do this…” I trail off and lift my hands to my ears, covering them. “Just until we get back, okay?”

The girls exchange a look of confusion before doing as I ask, and their eyes travel back to the cartoons on TV.

The only reason I have for not sending them to their room is I doubt it is any better than the living room. It’s bad enough that they are in a house in this bad of a state, but what if the bedroom is covered in mold and feces? No. They are better off on the couch until we deal with this.

“That was easier than I expected,” Oliver whispers in my ear as I stand up and walk behind the couch. Pulling out the gun he gave me, holding it by my side, cocking it as silently as possible.

“Kids love me.” He places a hand on my shoulder and stops my walking so he can step in front of me, almost as if he is acting as a shield to protect me. I let him. This is his show. I’m just here to assist him. Hell, he wouldn’t have made it this far without my help.

Five doors line the hall, and we check each one until we make it to the furthest one, which is locked. The knob jiggles.

Bingo.

Oliver’s eyes turn to me, and I nod as he silently cocks his gun in preparation, his breathing shallow as if he’s preparing himself for what he might find on the other side of this door. His eyes race back to the door, but he doesn’t move. He is just…frozen.

Why isn’t he doing anything?

Maybe he’s scared. Hearing what Aimee said was one thing, but seeing where she was and the people she was around is an entirely different ballgame. I lace my fingers through his and squeeze his hand.

I’m here, Oliver. I’m right. Here. With you.

If he needs to break, I’ll be right here to catch him. I’ve got his back, and I think I’m accurate in saying he has mine.

His gaze shoots down to our locked hands before slowly rising to my eyes, and I offer him an understanding smile before nodding to the door.

“It’s a penny lock.”

That smirk rises across his lips, and he gently squeezes my hand before I release my grip on him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his keys and uses the ring to twist the lock soundlessly, like he’s done this a million times. A psycho like Oliver Doyle probably has.

As soon as Oliver throws open the door, the two figures on the queen-sized bed fall out, tumbling onto the floor. Surprise grips me when I realize this room is actually…clean. The rest of the house is a wreck, even the kid’s room, but theirs is spotless. What the hell is wrong with them?

Mine and Oliver’s guns rise as we enter the room, and I kick the door closed.

“Don’t hurt us!” Sophie O’Reilly yells, looking ten times worse for wear than she did in her mugshot. Her cheeks are sunken, and her eyes are hollow. She ducks behind the bed.

I have zero sympathy for her. I know he probably got her addicted to drugs to keep her from leaving, but that’s not a good enough reason for the state of this place. No explanation is good enough for allowing her children to live like this.

Little kids are innocent and deserve better.

Still, this woman is Nigel’s mother. She gave birth to him and was a good mother until she left.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” the man screams, but my eyes narrow on him.

“Don’t worry. We aren’t here to steal from you,” I mutter.

“Aimee sends her regards, though,” Oliver adds.

Sophie jumps off the floor and runs in front of the man by her side, blocking him. “You can’t believe anything that girl says. She’s unstable.”

I blanche at her as her words hit me down to my bones. This bitch…knew. She knew exactly what herboyfriendwas doing to Aimee, and she sat by and did nothing. There is nothing worse than someone who defends and lies for an abuser.

I’ve never shot a gun before, but when I pull the trigger, the bullet hits her right between the eyes. The sound of it is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, and it’s soothing, especially as her body falls to the floor, her wide eyes open and jaw slack.

No blood leaves the bullet hole for a while, and I wonder if it will start to bleed at all, but then I realize Oliver and the prick are staring at me.

Not even Oliver expected that out of me. I should be freaked out by what I just did–I just took a life–but I’m cool as a cucumber.

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