Page 73 of Cosy & Chill
“How did you get in here?”
“Who… who are you?”
Roisin caught sight of herself in the door of the mirrored wardrobe, tried to see what the Wetheralls saw: A woman dressed in a stylish black suit, balancing easily on six-inch stiletto heels, with dark red hair pulled back in a tight chignon, and green eyes blazing with rage.
Under her grip, Miriam’s face turned first puce, then purple. Roisin didn’t care and didn’t let go. She watched Leo’s father, who blustered like any bully she’d ever seen.
“How dare you break into our home!”
Miriam started to struggle, encouraged by her father’s voice.
Roisin planted her heel on Miriam’s instep and tightened her hands on Miriam’s throat. “I said. Shut. Yer. Gob.”
“Don’t hurt her. Please, don’t hurt her.”
Roisin considered Leo’s mother. She was a slim, ashy blonde, a washed-out presence beside her vibrant daughter and bullish husband. She’d let Leo be hurt and had done nothing. “Don’t pretend ye’re concerned about someone hurting yer children. I know that for the lie it is.”
“You will let go of my daughter right now!” How Leo’s father still thought he had the upper hand was beyond her.
“Or what? Ye call the police? Go right ahead. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in my photo collection. What do ye think they’ll do with this one? Toss her in a loony bin? Or are ye goin’ to offer to take the rap for her?”
Miriam clawed at Rosin’s hold. She squirmed and kicked, forcing Roisin to split her attention. Exasperated, she waved her fingers and immobilised Miriam.
“Tha’s better. Do ye remember what ye did to Leo?" Roisin hissed words under her breath, and Miriam's right cheek turned into a mesh of scars from temple to jaw.
“No! No. No. No.” Miriam screamed. “You fucking harpy. How dare you ruin my face?”
“Bothers ye, does it? Shame I don’t care to hear of it.” Roisin manifested a strip of duct tape, shutting Miriam’s mouth. “Tha’s what I should have done first. After all, it’s what ye did to yer brother, right? Ye might as well find out what it feels like.” She turned to Leo’s parents who stared at her, speechless and open-mouthed. “Ye are the lowest of the low, letting her act out her sick fantasies on her brother.”
“What do you want? We’ll do anything.”
“Will ye now? I think yer husband disagrees with ye there. He looks as if he wants to beat me to a pulp.”
Mr Wetherall’s throat moved, but no words emerged.
“So yecancontrol that bluster of yer’s. Interesting.” She narrowed her gaze on Miriam Wetherall, who stood unmoving in the middle of her bedroom, eyes promising violence over the strip of duct tape covering her mouth. “Call yer solicitor and tell him that ye won’t be contesting yer mother’s will.”
Mr Wetherall’s face purpled. “I will not.”
“Really.” An angry red slash appeared beside Miriam’s mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sudden pain. “Ye’ve never felt the hurts ye inflicted, have ye? Time to remedy that. I’ll add one new mark to yer face every time yer father feels fit to argue. How’s that?” She tilted her head and addressed Mr Wetherall. “Call yer lawyer.”
“No. Leo has no right. The money belongs to me.”
“Suit yerself.” Skin tore under Miriam’s left eye, a triangular rip that started a slow trickle of blood down her cheek. “Belt buckle. Ye liked to use that one, didn’t ye?”
“You can’t do that! You can’t ruin her beautiful face!”
Roisin hadn’t expected Mrs Wetherall to produce screams of such volume. She shoved the sounds back into the woman’s throat, leaving her choking.
“Still arguin’ with me, I see.”
She added another mark, a long scratch this time. That one would heal in time without a scar, but until then it would hurt worse than a cut. Miriam went limp in Roisin’s binding, and Roisin chuckled.
“Not foolin’ me. Not foolin’ me for a minute. I can read yer expression, ye know? Ye’d scratch me eyes out if ye could. For that—”
Roisin chopped off her hair. The thick braid fell first, before slashes of Roisin’s hand ripped through the remaining hanks, cutting some of the strands at odd angles, tearing others out at the root.
If Miriam could have moved, she’d have fought like a wildcat. Could she have screamed, the whole cul-de-sac would have heard her. The silent struggle was horrific to watch, but all Roisin saw was Leo.
