Page 48 of Crybaby

I rest my cheek against the door.

“Help me.”

“Help you?” he questions and begins to open the door, which I nudge closed again.

I see death in my mind. Their screaming hearts and bleeding faces. I set Foss on fire and blind Blake. Buckets gets a hand job, and not the kind he wants.

“Help me…help me make them pay for what they did. I want them…all of them.”

There is silence behind the door.

“I want all of them…dead.”

Iknow she isn’t talking in the metaphorical sense.

I don’t reply, but she doesn’t need me to because she knows my answer.

As I slump onto the end of the bed to take off my boots, all I can hear on repeat is Big fucking Mouth Billy Bass singing.

Don’t worry…be happy now…

It appears the only thing that’ll make Darcie happy is killing those motherfuckers who deserve a punishment worse than death.

I angrily rip off my tie and then commence removing my soaked clothes. I toss them into the corner of the room and decide after what Darcie’s been through, seeing a half-naked man is the last thing she needs. So I slip under the scratchy covers.

I won’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight, but I’ll make sure Darcie does. She’s exhausted—mind, body, and soul.

The bathroom door opens, and Darcie walks out, wearing a white robe. She toys with the end of the belt.

“I found this under the sink,” she explains. “It smells like someone died in it, but oh well.”

Nodding, I focus on the TV even though the reception is flickering. Some black-and-white movie is playing, but it’s only on to provide some light in the room. I imagine Darcie won’t want to be in the dark for a while.

I am on my back with my fingers interlaced behind my head. The blanket rests under my arms, so not a lot of chest is showing, but I wonder if Darcie would feel more comfortable if I gave her more space.

I subtly shift across the mattress to lie on the edge. One wrong move and I’ll be taking a swan dive onto the carpet. But I don’t want to crowd Darcie.

She, however, doesn’t seem to appreciate the sentiment.

“Don’t do that,” she says, pulling back the covers and slipping underneath. “Don’t be weird. Please. I couldn’t stand it.”

I understand what she means.

After what she’s been through, she doesn’t want anyone looking at her with pity because Darcie isn’t a victim. And the fact that she asked me to kill those three fuckers proves it.

Most would be crying about the injustices done to them, but not Darcie. My little firecracker is done crying. There is one thing I want to ask her, but I don’t know if it’s the right time.

When I sigh, she reads my mind, however. “Spit it out.”

She keeps to her side of the bed, and I keep to mine.

“It was just those three?”

“What, that isn’t enough for you?” she snaps, turning her cheek to look at me. Bruises are starting to form, and I know tomorrow they will be a lot worse.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” I correct. “I just meant…where was Carson?”

When she told me what those fuckers had done, I was convinced Carson was somehow involved. But she never mentioned his name. I know those boys don’t do anything without Carson’s approval.

---