Page 39 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

“I’m going to check on Emily while the rest of you bicker about this bullshit.”

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Callaway interjects. “The last time you were alone in this house, you stole some things that belonged to me.”

I stare him down. He just admitted that he knows that I had the disks, so he most likely knows that I know what was on them. It’s a very dangerous game to play with me right now. “Then you should know better than anyone that I’m not the girl you want to mess with right now.”

He’s silent now, back to sipping his drink like a toddler sipping from a sippy cup.

His wife turns to him. “What is she talking about?”

I slip out of the room just in time that I don’t hear the rest of the conversation. Nothing of interest must have been said though, because Nick is soon right behind me as I race up the stairs.

“I’m starting to think you were right,” he says with a huff as we reach the top of the landing. “This was a horrible idea. I should have just gone and grabbed Emily and left this place.”

“Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda. There’s no point in trying to go back in time. It won’t change anything. Trust me, I know that better than most.”

He stops and grabs me by the arm gently. “Would you?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I want to say that I would handle things differently, but he was doing awful things to innocent girls. It’s not like he gave me a choice in the matter, either. He attacked me when he realized that I knew. I often think about how different my life would be if I just made one different decision, but it’s not worth the mental energy. What’s done is done, you know?”

“Yeah, I feel that.” He glances over his shoulder at Emily’s room down the hall and then back to me. “Do you mind if I go in there by myself first? I just want to feel her out and let her know that you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I answer with a nod and then watch as he makes his way down the hall, disappearing into Emily’s room. I turn to my side and brace my hands on the railing as I look down over the ledge into the foyer. Downstairs, I can hear the Callaway parents arguing but can’t make out exactly what because of the distortion caused by the echoes. Just as I figured, they put on a united front in front of others but behind closed doors, they hate each other.

Nick races out of the bedroom, panicked. “She’s not in there.”

“Did she slip out without us noticing?”

“We would have heard her running down the stairs.”

“It was pretty loud in there. She could have easily made it out without making a sound.”

He cocks his head to the right towards a closed door. “This bathroom door is never closed.”

“Do you think she’s in there?”

Nick grabs the doorknob but it doesn’t turn. Locked. He knocks gently on the door once and then twice, but there’s no response. He tilts his head sideways against the door to listen inside and then backs away slightly before pounding his fist against the door. “Emily, open the door.”

Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I rush forward and listen through the door. There’s the sound of running water and nothing else. Something brushes against my foot and when I look down, I notice a pool of water slipping beneath the cracks. “Nick…”

He takes a measured step back before throwing the entirety of his weight against the door. It doesn’t budge much. He steadies himself once more before throwing himself at the door again. The door swings open and Nick almost loses his footing, stumbling forward into the bathroom.

Red water overfills the bathtub where Emily lies with her arms hanging over the edge, bleeding. I can’t tell if she’s dead or alive as a chill falls over me. I stand motionless as Nick races forward, dragging Emily’s limb, wet body out of the tub.

“Call 911,” he screams as he pushes her wet hair from her face and drags her onto the marbled floor. I dig my phone out of my jeans and call for help while I turn the faucets off to stop the flooding.

Mrs. Callaway storms into the bathroom screaming bloody murder and this time, I don’t think she’s pretending to be mother of the year. There’s no mistaking the blood-curdling scream that threatens to deafen me as she drops onto the floor beside her dying daughter. Mr. Callaway enters behind, pale and quiet as he stares blankly ahead at the scene of horror playing out in front of him.

ChapterEighteen

ADDISON

They say that only the good die young, but that’s not entirely true. Carter was young when he died, and he wasn’t a good person. It’s a thing people say out of habit to try to grapple with the grief of losing a loved one, whether that be a friend, a cousin, or a child.

I’ve been lost to the throes of grief before, most notably when I lost my father. It completely changed my life for the worse. I felt it again when Asher died, but I’ve been so preoccupied on revenge that I haven’t had the time to grieve him properly. By the time it catches up to me, I’ll most likely have already moved on. That’s the thing about grief and trauma. It makes you hard and resilient–too resilient–but resilience shouldn’t be mistaken for strength. Otherwise, my body wouldn’t be covered in scars.

The most common notion when it comes to grief is that losing a child is the worst pain anyone could possibly experience. It’s so rooted into our emotional understanding, and everyone knows someone who’s lost a child. The parents are never the same. The loss destroys family from the inside like slow-acting decay. The damage is done in an instant, but the pain and suffering is prolonged for the decades that follow. Some turn to drugs or alcohol. Some turn inwards to the point they shelter themselves from the realities of the world like a bonafide hermit.

I wouldn’t wish the grief of losing a child on anyone. It’s something I imagine I would never recover from. Even for people as soulless as the Callaways, it’s not something I wish for them. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. I killed the prom king, the Hampton’s greatest legacy, and I would do it again. It doesn’t mean I can’t have empathy for his parents, the very people I hate the most in this world. Losing another child must be an unbearable thought, no matter how strained that relationship is.

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