Page 96 of Hearts Held
Out of a pure sense of power, I slap her again. A soft cry leaves her mouth and fuels my desires even more: my desire to hurt others, my desire for control, my desire for power, my desire to induce absolute respect and fear.
Encircling her like a predator sizing up its next meal, I say, “I may hate you, Brielle, but I must say, you are intelligent. Realizing it was a woman performing these crimes.”
Her eyes widen with terror.
“It wasyou!?” she states, her voice hoarse.
“Oh, don’t be daft. Acting like you didn’t know. If you really didn’t, it was only a matter of time ’efore you realized it. You are becoming a nuisance, and need to be put down like a useless horse. Fetch my knife, Freddy dear.” I stop in front of her, assessing where I’ll make my first cut. I place one hand on my hip while the other is outstretched, awaiting the blade.
“Why? Why did you hurt those poor girls!? They were innocent!” she blubbers, as a small stream of tears rushes down her cheeks.
“Oh, hush, slag,” I respond, as Freddy places the knife in my hand. I begin patting its flat portion atop my open palm. “I had every right to kill them. It helped me letoff somesteam, shall we say? The men did it, so why couldn’tI? Yes, I waskilling’em instead offucking’em. Letting off steam is letting off steam though. They were property anyway. My own personal killing toys! Housed in our fucking buildings, on our dime—”
“They were under the false pretense they had PROTECTION!”Brielle dares to interrupt, so I slap her across the face. One of my rings catches her cheek, cutting her skin. The blood follows the tear streak down her face.
“This is another reason why—I hate you. You think you are so self righteous. Better than others and all knowing,” I state, narrowing my eyes. “When I am speaking, no one else should speak over me. I am the queen of this fucking town, of those fucking Adders, though no one treats me with any respect! I’m sick of not being shown the respect I have earned!” I place the flat portion of the blade under her chin, raising her face toward mine.
Her little whimper is adorable, and I can’t wait to cut it out of her throat.
“I’m going to gut you so badly that my dear son will have a hard time figuring outwhichpiecegoeswhere.”
Suddenly a dark, sweet laugh comes from the hallway of the cottage.
A shadowy figure appears.
I feel Freddy shift behind me.
“That’s quite enough,” Everett states, a gun pointed directly at my head. “Put it down, Mother.”
I lunge forward but a shot rings out, flying past the left side of my body. Then Freddy lets out a shout.
“I asked kindly.” Everett’s expression doesn’t falter, the gun firmly grasped within his palm. “Put the knife down and kneel on the floor, hands behind your head.”
Freddy and I do as he states.
“How!” I scream in defiance.
Then the front door swings open as my mother, Bobby, Gregory, Kenneth and a group of other Adders storm my fucking cottage.
“What the fuck!?” I scream, utterly flabbergasted about how this scenario has turned, clutching my hands within my hair.
“What we gon’ do, Mum?” Freddy pathetically asks me.
“You’re going to shut the fuck up,” Bobby states, then knuckle-punches Freddy in the Adam’s apple, causinghim to gag and choke for air. “Or better yet.” Bobby goes down to one knee and places his knife along Freddy’s throat. “’Ow bout I just cut your fucking voice box out so I don’t have to hear your whingeing.”
“Wait! WAIT!? Please, pleas—” Freddy begs beside me as Bobby clutches his throat with such malice. My poor sweet boy has turned into such a monster. Granted, it was my own fault.
“Bobby hold on,” Everett commands in his stone-cold voice.
Bobby lets go of Freddy’s neck and he falls to the floor, then scrambles to his knees, rubbing his throat.
“How?” I level my glare on Everett as he steps to Brielle, untying her before she clutches the lapels of his tweed jacket.
Everett opens his mouth to speak, but another voice resounds in the cottage first.
“Me.” The ghost of Tilly appears from the hallway. She has a periwinkle dress underneath her long emerald pea-coat. Those golden curls dance with each movement as she saunters into the room.
“This ain’t real,” Bobby blurts out, his mouthagape.
