Page 24 of Retribution
Reese shakes her head, teeth biting down on her lower lip. Papa slaps her over the face, screaming at her to tell me. That it’s my fault they will all die today. She pulls into herself, ducking her head, shoulders shaking as fear courses through her.
“I’m so sorry, Reese,” I say quietly.
Lifting her head, she brings her gaze to mine and brushes a tear from her cheek. “I love you, Rebecca,” she says instead, and a sort of peaceful acknowledgment shines from her.
“I love you too, Reesy.”
“Lie down,” Papa orders, and Reese does so, not breaking her hold on me, letting me see her acceptance and forgiveness. Papa thrusts a pillow into my arms and grabs the back of my neck, hauling me on top of her.
“No!” I scream, scrambling to get off of her. “I won’t!” Earl steps forward to help Papa keep me in place. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why?” Papa asks. “Why? How dare you think you can rat me out to the cops! You betrayed me, Rebecca. You betrayed your family! I warned you.” He gets down into my face, pressing his nose into my hair. “I don’t care if I have to start all over again. I’ve got five new daughters lined up, ready to go. I can start again tomorrow. What I won’t do is allow one of my daughters to stab me in the back without paying the price for it.
“You have two choices, Rebecca. You can do this yourself and give her an easier death,” Papa states, scowling at me, “or Earl and I can torture her first. Either way, she’s not leaving this room.”
“It’s okay,” Reese whispers. “I can be with my parents now. Do it.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” I sob, tears blurring my vision. “I love you so much, Reesy.” Lowering the pillow over her face, I spread myself out over her, holding her down. She’s still at first, but her survival instinct kicks in, and she thrashes against me, nails raking at my hands, hips trying to buck me off.
Gritting my teeth, I hold strong, her movements becoming weaker before going still. A wail tears out of me as Papa and Earl rip me off of her, the pillow dropping to the floor, Reese’s lifeless eyes staring back at me. They carry me from her room, my arms outstretched towards her, wishing it could be me laying there instead.
Chapter 12
Trey
Present
I’m not sure how much more I can listen to, and I know there’s more coming. My fingers clutch the steering wheel so tightly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to peel them off anytime soon.
I wish she had left me someone to kill. I would gladly torture them for days. Keeping them alive to suffer, not letting them escape into the release that death would give them.
Forgive me, Father, for these sinful thoughts.
Glancing over at Rebecca, her head is resting against the back of the headrest, her face turned towards the window, watching without actually seeing the world go by. Her hands are twisted together, fingers working in agitation as she starts talking again.
I tear my eyes away from her, focusing on the road as I circle us around Flagstaff. I don’t know where I am going yet, just driving aimlessly while she talks. When I bundled her into the Jeep earlier, my only thought was “away”. A plan is forming in my mind, but I need to hear the rest of her story first.
“They carried me out of the room,” she continues, her eyes fluttering closed as she takes a deep breath, “and they took me to the basement.”
Chapter 13
Rebecca
5 Weeks Ago
Kicking and clawing and screaming, I’m carried down the stairs and into the basement. Tossing me to the floor in front of Rachel’s cage, Papa grabs hold of my hair, tilting my head back, forcing me to look into the cage.
Rachel’s head is tilted forward, resting on her chest, eyes closed. That’s all I need to see to know. She’s gone, just like Ruth and Reese. Papa leans down and licks my cheek, tasting the tears that run down my face in rivulets of silent grief. “Told ya, didn’t I, whore? I laced her smoothie with cyanide. You delivered her death to her.” He cackles as my heart shatters, the tiny pieces fluttering to the ground like garbage thrown from a speeding car, littering the ground around me with anguish, self-hatred, and despair.
All your fault.
Pulling me to the opposite end of the room, Rosalie is naked, bound hand and foot to the surgical table, a gag muffling her shouts as she shakes her head, eyes wide in terror. Earl rubs his hands together, a malicious gleam in his eyes as he rakes his gaze over her body. Rosalie bows her back, heels scrambling uselessly against the metal table, her hands fluttering as beads of sweat trail down her body.
Momma leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest as she waits to see what Papa and Earl have planned. How can she stand there with that fucking venomous smirk on her face while children are tortured and murdered? How cananywoman be okay with this? We are meant to be the mothers, the caregivers, the ones to kiss bruised knees and chase away nightmares.
You had that once, remember? The softly sung lullaby, the gentle—
Slamming the lid back down on the mental box, I throw a lock on it, then wrap a chain around it for good measure. I can’t afford memories right now.
