Page 44 of Absolution

The vows of my ordination are a quiet white noise inside my head, tamped down by the screams that ripped from my throat when I held my daughter’s lifeless body in my arms.

With my eyes screwed shut, my thoughts latch on to echoes of her laughter, a sound I’ll never hear again, thanks to this unrepentant piece of shit.

Muscles quaking, I draw back and punch him in the face. Over and over, I hammer my fists against his bones, sending slivers of pain up through my knuckles, until he stills beneath me.

My body kettles the rage boiling inside of me, threatening to explode in violent bursts of vengeance.

Tears blur his bloody form, further distorting his mangled face, and I push off him to look for Ivy.

I find her in the bathroom, legs spread wide, where she lies passed out on the floor and cuffed to the sink. A curling iron is propped between her legs, the waves of heat painting images inside my head. Murderous images that only serve to fuel my rage. I stride across the room, back to Vinnie, and search through his pockets, finding a key stuffed inside his jeans. Back at Ivy’s side, I unfasten the cuffs and set the curling iron aside, before lifting her up off the floor. I carry her across the room, setting her down on the bed, and cover her up with the blanket.

Still entranced by the adrenaline coursing through me like gasoline, I swipe up Vinnie’s ankle and drag him into the bathroom. Once inside, I cuff him to the sink, just as he had Ivy moments before, and wait for him to come to.

Seconds bleed into minutes.

Camped out with a bottle of wine I found on the living room floor, I smack Vinnie’s cheeks. “Hey. Wake up.”

His swollen eyes blink open, and as realization dawns on him, he immediately scans his surroundings, lifting his gaze toward his cuffed arms. Kicking back away from me, he tugs on the cuffs, as if he could break them, or something.

I hold up the curling iron that’s practically smoking with heat by this point. “What did you plan to do with this?”

The slight roll of his shoulders snags my attention. “Nothing, man. Just messing around.”

“Messing around.” I tip back the bottle of wine, swallowing a burning chug of cabernet, and wipe my mouth on my sleeve. “So, when I found her in here with her legs spread, you weren’t actually planning to fuck her with this?”

He snorts and shakes his head, as if I’m the crazy one now. “No. It’s just a game. Just wanted to scare her.”

“Why?”

“She’s mine. She belongs to me.” The possession in his voice doesn’t roll off his tongue like a man who knows love. He sounds like a child guarding a toy that he plans to destroy so no one else wants it.

“What’s so special about this girl?”

The flinch of his eye confirms my suspicions, as if he doesn’t want to reveal her best assets to me and risk I’ll want her more than I already do. “Ivy … she’s not like other girls. She’s the only one who gets me.”

“Getsyou? She does what you say because she’s afraid of you.”

“That bitch isn’t afraid of anything. She’s got fight in her. ‘Swhat I like about her.”

Another swill of the wine numbs my conscience, feeding the ever-growing thirst to watch him suffer. “A woman shouldn’t have to fight a man who claims to care about her.”

“Says the fucking priest. When’s the last time you got any action?”

“This evening. Loved the latex suit, by the way.”

“Motherfucker!”

“I didn’t fuck your mom, Vin. I fucked your girl.” Tipping my head, I smile down at him. “Oh, wait, she was never your girl to begin with.” The words tumble easily from my lips in a language I haven’t spoken in years, as if the old me is resurrecting before my very eyes.

He kicks out at me, and I laugh as he fails to make contact. “I’ll kill you!”

“I’m impressed, Vinnie. I never thought you the type to become so … obsessed. Most sociopaths aren’t capable of forming that kind of connection.”

“You oughta know. Surprised you started a family, asshole. You can’t deny what’s in your blood. What’s a part of you.” He jerks his chin, his gaze sweeping over me with disdain. “You might fool everyone else with that righteous bullshit, but you can’t fool me. I know where you come from. I’ve seen the blood on your hands.”

“Then, you know how this ends.”

Sneering, he tugs on the cuffs, as if to suggest the fight isn’t fair. As if fairness was ever considered when he slaughtered my family and attempted to sear Ivy with a hot iron. “Go ahead. Kill me. Ain’t that amortal sin, your holiness?”

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