Page 67 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

Atticus hasn’t told me what he plans to do with all this stuff, and I didn’t ask, but I’ll find out soon enough.

As I watch Atticus walk across the large, empty space, another thought comes to me.

What if this doesn’t go the way he planned? What if my uncle gets the upper hand and Atticus—I can’t even think about it. It makes me want to throw up. I’ve been so focused on what happens after, that I didn’t even think of everythingbeforegoing wrong.

I’ve been through a lot of things in my life. I’ve dealt with death, murder, and abuse. But my uncle…

I’m not sure why it affected me so much more than anything else. Maybe because I was so young, or maybe it’s because I never told anyone? My uncle isn’t the only person to have sexually abused me, but it’s that time that sticks with me the most, that terrifies me to my bones.

I’ve never spoken what he did to me out loud. And I won’t until I tell Atticus. It won’t be easy, but I promised I would do it. Considering he’s saving me yet again, ridding the world of a man who destroyed parts of me I’ll never get back, it’s the least I can do. Once he’s dead, maybe it’ll be easier.

But I have to let Atticus know, that under no circumstances, does he repeat this information. I can’t have it getting back to my father. Not that it’s probable, I doubt Atticus will ever talk to him, but you never know. I’m not worried about what my father will do, I’m worried about how it will make him feel. I can’t hurt him because none of this was his fault. He’s already spending therest of his life in jail, miserable, I don’t need him carrying about this burden too.

My uncle used to watch me while my father worked, when I was just a little girl. The abuse didn’t start right away, not until I was nine. He experimented with his fingers first, maybe because he wanted it to be easier when the other stuff came. I hated all of it, of course, and nothing about it was better or good. It wasn’t only vaginal rape, either. In fact, he used my mouth the most. And he’d put things on it to make it taste better, as if that made a difference.

He used his power as a police officer to scare the shit out of me. He told me that if I didn’t do what I was told, or if I told my father or anyone about what he was doing, that he would take my father and put him in jail. I didn’t know any better when I was a kid. I thought he could do that. I thought it was up to him to put people in jail. That he would arrest the bad guys and throw them in a jail cell, then go on to find the next one. I did not understand the judicial system, and that things went through judges and laws and sometimes juries and trials. He scared the ever loving shit out of me, and so for years, it continued. It continued until the day I ran away, a few weeks after my seventeenth birthday.

He was who I went to live with when my father went to jail, and those years were the worst of it all. He had free rein of me and my body. No father to send me back to. He didn’t have to worry about bruises or marks or bleeding.

The worst part of it all was him taking away my ability to have children. There’s not a lot of that night I remember. Only that whatever he did hurt a lot and he wasn’t the only one there. He’d brought a friend to help. A doctor. I don’t know why he did it, whether it was accidental or purposeful. I don’t know who that doctor was or where he is today. And I’m worried that if I tellAtticus about him, he’ll fixate on finding him and killing him, and I’m not sure that’s possible because I have nothing to go on.

It’s strange because when I think of my childhood and my teenage years, there are two things. Happy memories and black spots. My brain is really good at pushing away the bad stuff I guess, because I have so many happy memories of me and my father. The stuff with my uncle only comes up when I see him or when I specifically think about it. Just another reason I should have gone to therapy.

Oh well.

“Are you okay?” Atticus asks.

I blink a few times and look up at him. I didn’t realize he was so close…

I smile and nod. For the first time tonight, I feel likemaybeeverything is going to be okay.

“Don’t lie to me, Kitten,” he says firmly.

I take a breath, my gaze going to the door. “I’m scared but… I’m okay.”

Atticus watches me for another moment, kisses my lips, tells me I’m perfect, and then disappears into the shadows. With another deep breath, I put one foot in front of the other and walk toward the door to go into the hall and wait for my uncle to get up here.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Atticus

I stand in the shadows beside the door, the rope wrapped tightly in my hands, ready to be around this guy’s throat. Lilah is scared, and I hate it. But it’ll be worth it once he’s dead. She will no longer have to fear this man because he will no longer be breathing.

The wind whistles through the open windows, but beneath that I make out the sound of booted footsteps on the dirty cement. They get louder as they get closer, until they stop altogether. I strain to listen, but I’m met with silence. My heart beats hard but steadily. I count the beats as I wait for them to speak.

Five. Six. Seven.

“Lilah,” he finally says.

“Uncle Frank.” Her voice is stronger than I expected it to be. Much stronger than she feels.

“How did you know about this location?” he asks.

“I f-found it on a map.”

Ah, there it is. I hate hearing her sound unsure, and it nearly sends me into a blind rage. My hands grip the rope tighter. I’m getting antsy, and the darkness within me is swirling like a storm, ready to be set free.

“Don’t you think it was stupid to choose such a secluded place? If he sees your location—”

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