Page 35 of Claiming His Bunny
What the fuck is wrong with that guy? How could he do this to his own son? God, no wonder his wife ended up in a psych ward. Anyone exposed to this level of madness would. No doubt, she tried to protect her son by drawing Adams’ attention to herself. But now that she’s gone, Aaron bears the full brunt of his father’s sadism.
I know I’m not supposed to be killing people where I live, but at this point, I don’t fucking care. My hand hovers over a gun, then moves to a display case with knives. The fucker doesn’t deserve a quick death. I grab the boning knife.
I’m going to cut Adams into little pieces. I’ll keep him alive the whole time.
I’ll get a dog—no, a pig! I’ll feed bits of Adams’ body to the pig and make him watch. Let’s see how he will like being eaten alive.
I’ll serve him his own liver. No, he’d bleed out too fast.
His cock, then? I could cauterize the wound to make sure he doesn’t lose too much blood.
I could skin him alive, too. I’ve heard that hurts.
Fuck, there are so many options!
My mind is reeling. I can’t focus on anything other than the rage simmering in my veins. On the monster inside me craving blood. Craving death.
I feel my sanity slipping through my trembling fingers. I can’t bring myself to care, though. It’s like my rational mind vanished, replaced by a whirlwind of anger and the need for revenge. I don’t just want to kill Benjamin Adams anymore. I want to kill his staff too, because they had to know something wasn’t right. I want to kill Aaron’s therapist, who’s been covering up the abuse for years. Everyone who ever came in contact with the boy and did nothing to help him. The useless social workers who left Aaron in the care of a sadistic monster.
The last thought makes me pause and think.
Kayla is a social worker. I don’t want to kill Kayla. I’d rather kill myself than hurt her.
Fuck! What am I doing? Am I having a psychotic breakdown? Now, when I finally found a reason to live?!
No. No fucking way. I refuse to lose my mind now.
I force my reeling thoughts back in order. Shoving the darkness into a box, I lock it away in the dark recesses of my mind. For what feels like an eternity, I repeat breathing exercises until finally, the red fog clouding my mind recedes.
Benjamin Adams is a monster who deserves to die. But I won’t be breaking my rules for him. The rules are there to keep me from hurting innocent people. If I break one today, I’ll break another one in a week, and before I know it, I’m nothing but a murdering monster.
I won’t kill Benjamin Adams. Not while he lives in Bluebell Springs, anyway. But I won’t let him torment Aaron, either.
Victoria Smith asked me for proof that Adams is abusing his son, which I have. However, she asked for proof that would stand in court. And a recording taken by a hidden camera illegally planted in someone’s house won’t stand in court, no matter how horrifying its contents are.
The lawful way is out, which only leaves the unlawful way. I will destroy Benjamin Adams’ life. I will make sure he loses everything he cares for: his status, his friends, the respect of this stupid town.
Once his image of an upstanding citizen has been disparaged, people will stop being afraid. Someone will speak up. There will be witnesses to what’s happening to Aaron. Adams will lose custody. With his reputation in tatters, he’ll likely move out of Bluebell Springs. And when he does, well…
I don’t kill where I live. I have no qualms about killing anywhere else.
Chapter 21
Kayla
Despite the frightening revelationsI made yesterday, I slept well. What does that say about my sanity?
Just like yesterday, my bed was nicely warm when I woke up and smelled like something I couldn’t place. Not the fabric softener, though. I checked the bottle yesterday and the two scents have nothing in common. I don’t like the implications of my sheets smelling of something I can’t identify, so I just ignore it.
Ostriches do it all the time, right? Bury their heads in the sand when there is something they don’t want to see? Well, I guess I’m an ostrich today because I’m not thinking about it.
I’m not.
I mean… I would have woken up if he came to my bedroom, wouldn’t I? If he was in my bed?! I surely would. But the bed is warm. I am warm. And there’s the scent, so manly and sexy and—
Nope. Not thinking about it. I’m an ostrich.
Restless, I eat my usual breakfast, then try to work on some cases. When I open the Grahams’ file, I find post-it notes that aren’t mine attached to the documents. This time, I don’t freak out.
