Page 35 of The Misfits
“Go grabmycoat then—”
“Scarlett, get the man his things!” Joseph roars, scaring the living hell out of Megan. She snaps to her feet in an instant, her body responding to his command before her brain can register it wasn’t directed at her.
When Megan locks her wide eyes with mine, I nudge my head to the only exit, advising her to go with Scarlett. She is so eager to leave, she barges past Scarlett before sprinting down the dark corridor.
I wait for her pounding heart to stop ringing in my ears before swiveling my torso to face Joseph head-on. His eyes are planted in the direction Megan and Scarlett just went. If they held the same disdain they did every time Scarlett was in his presence, I could pretend he was eagerly awaiting her return. Unfortunately for all involved, I know what caused the crinkle to his top lip and the pungent aroma in the air. His eyes were locked on Megan’s ass.
“You like her.” I’m not asking a question. I am stating a fact. “Even though she ismine,you still want her beneath you.” The violent roar of my words secures Joseph’s utmost attention. His pupils widen as they dart between my wildly possessive eyes and the steak knife I am clutching so firmly the spiky blade digs into my palm. “Were you aware I could see what you were doing? Or did you not care you were disrespecting me?” Although my tone alludes to a question, Joseph doesn’t answer me.
That agitates me more than anything.
“Answer me! Were you aware I could see your filthy hands touching her?”
“Yes,” Joseph answers, his head bobbing up and down sardonically. “I knew you were watching.”
My jaw clenches so firmly, my back molars grind together. “Yet you still did it? You must have a death wish.”
He smiles a slick grin, proving he’s remembering me as the six-year-old who peed his pants during his first hunt instead of the man who would hang his own flesh and blood with their intestines if they dared to disobey me.
His smile sags when my steak knife plucks his Adam’s apple out of his throat. My stab, twist, and extract technique is precise and done without hesitation. Blood squirts from his inch-wide wound, spraying the four-course meal Scarlett prepared for us. Its coloring is a cross between the Bolognese sauce and the aromatic red wine we consumed. It is a beautiful mess—almost as intoxicating as the scent of Megan’s skin when she is scared.
Mindful Scarlett might not be as welcoming to the carnage as Megan, I hand Joseph a napkin. His wheezing breaths when he removes his hand from his blood-smeared neck to accept my gesture is liquid gold to my ears. They are whispered apologies—penances for his sins, not just for me but for Megan as well.
He garbles out some words, but the gurgling of his blood in his esophagus drowns them out. I pat him on the back three times, advising him I don’t need to hear his words to know what he is saying.
I’m sorry for disrespecting you. It will never happen again.
“It won’t, will it? Not really your choice, though.”
After standing from my chair, I lower my cap over my eyes. I’m not hiding my face from surveillance devices. Joseph would have taken care of them the instant he took over the rights of this property. I’m concealing Joseph’s blood from my face. If Megan discovers I killed for her, it will even our playing field. It might possibly end our game before it truly begins. Considering my heart has never beaten in the rhythm it has tonight, that’s the last thing I want to encourage.
Scarlett’s hurried steps slow when she crosses the bridge between the dinette and the kitchen. My jacket falls from her hand when her eyes lock on Joseph’s slumped frame. He’s not dead—only halfway there. He will be soon enough. I simply didn’t want to keep all the fun to myself.
After snatching my jacket from the floor, I stop to stand in front of Scarlett. Her massively dilated eyes bounce between mine when I remove her hand clamped over her mouth, then her breathing shallows when I place my bloody steak knife into her palm.
“Do with it as you wish.” Her throat works hard to swallow as her bright eyes dim with blackness. “No matter what, he’ll die in approximately two minutes anyway. Maybe thirty seconds with how hard he is wheezing.”
Ignoring her dropped jaw and thankful eyes, I clamber onto the sidewalk in search of Megan.
twelve
MEGAN
“Is that why you killed your father? Because he touched you like Joseph did?”
I stop seeking a way to ease the sting of Joseph’s chubby fingers on my thigh by shifting my focus to Dexter. He has been as quiet as me the past twenty minutes. I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I was merely giving him time to calm the manic tick in his jaw.
He’s mad. Rightfully so. His friend was kind enough to invite us for dinner, but instead of thanking him for the meal, I spent the two hours planning his demise. It is lucky Dexter announced I could leave when he did, or I may have done something very bad.
Joseph is not a nice man. He taunts his daughter, Scarlett, as badly as my father criticized me. No matter what she said or did, he treated her like scum. He even made her sit on the floor instead of joining us at the table. Seeing her degraded like that filled me with horrible memories.
Unfortunately, not all of them revolve around my father.
Perhaps if I hadn’t skipped my medication, I may have responded differently to Joseph’s overfriendliness, but with my mind the clearest it’s ever been, all I felt was dirty when he continually touched me. The looks he gave me when his pinkie grazed my vagina through my jeans mimicked the ones Dexter used while shaving me, but not once did I get an enjoyable tingle. They made me feel like I am in desperate need of a shower and had me thinking recklessly.
That’s why I bolted when Dexter gave me permission to leave.
It was either leave or stab my fork in Joseph’s eye.
