Page 2 of King of Praise
Lucas down on one knee, promising to love me forever.
Lucas screaming I was worthless, his fist connecting with my ribs.
Lucas’s hands around my throat, his eyes wild with murderous intent.
The sound of a car door slamming outside makes me flinch. Powder startles at my sudden movement, leaping away with an indignant meow. My heart pounds against my ribs as footsteps echo in the hallway outside, but they pass by without pausing. Still, the brief moment of panic forces me to confront reality. I can’t sit here forever, covered in blood, waiting to be discovered.
I need to do something. Call someone. But who? The police? They’ll arrest me. Even though it was self-defense, even though I had no choice. Will they believe me? His mother, Sandra, has connections everywhere. She’ll make sure they paint me as a murderous wife who plotted this all along.
Micah. I should call Micah.
But what will he think when he sees his son’s blood staining his floor? How can I face him after what I’ve done? He provided me with a safe place to stay when I had nowhere else to go. I’ve repaid his kindness by killing his only child.
My breathing speeds up again, edging toward hyperventilation. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision—similar to but different from the ones Lucas’s strangling grip had caused. I force myself to take slower breaths, pressing my palms flat against the cool floor beside me. The tacky feel of drying blood making my skin stick to the tile nearly sends me spiraling again.
Powder returns, either forgiving my earlier transgression or simply bored with exploring elsewhere. She settles into my lap this time, unbothered by the blood matting her pristine fur. Her weight is grounding, her purrs steady and soothing. I focus on the sensation of her fur beneath my fingers, trying to center myself.
Think, Naomi. Think.
The apartment falls silent again except for Powder’s purring and my gradually steadying breaths. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails. The sound makes my muscles lock up, every nerve screaming at me to run. But where would I go? What would I do? I have plenty of money of my own from my trust—the only reason Lucas married me—but no family I can turn to. They’d made it clear whose side they were on when I first fled from Lucas four months ago.
My father is no better than Lucas. He’s abused my mother for years and beat me when he got bored with her. To them, Lucas’s treatment and behavior is normal. To me, it was hell on earth.
I could disappear if I wanted. Move to another country. But where? And how would I escape Columbus undetected?
That’s why I accepted the temporary sanctuary Micah offered. But that offer was made to his son’swife, not to his son’skiller. What will he do to me now? The thought threatens to send me spiraling deeper into despair, but I dig my fingers into Powder’s fur, anchoring myself in the present moment.
The sun slants through the windows, painting golden rectangles on the floor that creep closer to Lucas’s body. Time is passing, precious minutes slipping away while I sit paralyzed by indecision and shock. Soon the light will touch him, illuminating the horror I’ve created in unforgiving detail.
My eyes track the moving sunlight, and something catches my attention. It’s a glint of metal near Lucas’s outstretched hand. My grandmother’s locket that was around my neck. The chain is broken, probably snapped during our struggle.
The sight of the locket stirs something in me.Anger. Even in his final moments, he’d been trying to possess me, to dominate me. He’d broken into Micah’s apartment with the clear intent to either force me back into his control or ensure no one else could have me.
You did what you had to do, that small voice whispers again, stronger now.You survived.
My hand drifts to my throat again, feeling the tender flesh where his fingers had dug in. If I hadn’t grabbed that knife, I’d be the one lying lifeless on the floor right now. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. I’d seen it in his eyes—that familiar rage amplified to murderous intensity. He’d meant to kill me.
The realization doesn’t erase my guilt or horror of what I’ve done, but it helps me breathe a little easier. Helps me think a little clearer.
Powder shifts in my lap, stretching lazily before settling back down. Her casual disregard for the gravity of the situation is almost humorous. She doesn’t care that her peaceful home has become a crime scene, that her owner’s son lies dead mere feet away, that her current pillow is a murderer.
Self-defense, I remind myself firmly.Not murder. Self-defense.
The distinction feels important, even if it doesn’t change the fact that Lucas is dead by my hand. The sun creeps closer to his body, and I find myself holding my breath, as if expecting him to suddenly move, to leap up and resume his attack. But he remains still, blood no longer pumping from around the knife’s handle, his eyes glassy as they stare at nothing.
I should get up. Clean myself up at least. The blood is everywhere—on my dress, my arms, my face. I must look like something from a horror movie. The thought of looking in a mirror makes me shudder, but I can’t stay like this. Can’t let anyone see me like this.
But movement is impossible. My body is leaden, pinned in place by the gravity of what I’ve done. By indecision. By fear. By guilt.
A thousand possible futures play out in my mind, none of them good.
Powder stretches again, this time standing up in my lap and kneading my thighs with her paws. The slight pain of her claws through my thin dress provides another anchor to reality. She headbutts my chin, demanding attention, completely unaware that she’s smearing blood through her fur.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m not sure who I’m apologizing to—Lucas, Micah, Powder, myself. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. The words are inadequate, useless, but they’re all I have.
The sun finally reaches Lucas’s body. The blood looks almost black in the golden light, his skin waxy and pale. I force myself to really look at him, to acknowledge what I’ve done, what can never be undone.
