Page 115 of Madness Behind the Mask
His fuckingwordthat he wouldn’t hurt my Family.
A broken laugh escapes me as I grab the last box and tear it open. But I don’t rip out the paper. I don’t yank out its insides in a mad frenzy. I just sit there laughing, unable to tell in this moment, if the rage I’m feeling is for him.
Or me.
For being so fucking stupid as to believe we could everhavepeace.
“I want him dead,” I rasp as I glare at the final box. “I want his fucking head on a spike. I want…” My knuckles whiten on the knife as my whole arm shakes. “I want hissonin exchange for ours.”
Lifting my eyes to Caden, Ibeg him to give me this.
But his eyes only hold pain. Not rage. Notvengeance. He shakes his head as he stares at me.“If you go down this road, Sau, you can’t come back –”
“I don’t care! He butchered our son! He cut him into little pieces. He arranged him like some…like some…” I gesture wildly with the knife, pointing at the box that’s been opened all the way. “Look at what he did!”
“I know, Sau. Iknow.” He pulls the blade from me, then takes my hand as I try to reach for it. “But killing Colton won’t bring Leon back. It won’t make Aleric suffer. The only thing it will do is give him what he really wants.”
“He wants me!” I scream as I jump to my feet, unable to stay sitting down. “How is killing his son giving him that?”
“Because he wants you to be like him, Sau!” He rises, and I flinch away, slapped by his words. His jaw clenches. His voice quiets, but it’s no less hard in its honesty. “He wants you to be likehim. Please, Sau. Don’t go down this road.”
I stand there shaking.
Hearing what he’s saying.
But hearing what my heart is too.
Would it really be that bad to be like Aleric?
A man unaffected by the deaths of those around him? A man who can’t be hurt by the pain life wishes to inflict?
Tears burning my eyes, I close them on a rough exhale. I will not cry. I will not give him that pleasure.
“Take Leon into your shadows,” he says. “Let our boy rest in peace.”
A choked cry escapes me. “A poor fucking choice of words.”
He doesn’t say anything.
There isn’t anything to say.
It wasn’t fair of me to point that out, accusingly, as if he meant it. He most definitely realized as soon as he said it. Probably hates himself for doing so. But he is a grieving father, his thoughts numb like mine.
Except mine aren’t entirely numb.
There is a voice in the back of my head still, or perhaps in the bottom of my heart, that wishes for Colton’s death.
An eye for an eye.
A son for a son.
Opening my eyes, I look at my husband. “Please,” I rasp as I bare open my soul. “Give me Colton’s head.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.
And I don’t wait for him too, unable to bear his refusal. Not now. Not when my son is in six boxes in front of me. Turning from Caden, I open myself up to my magic. My eyes fall onto that final box, and I hesitate.
“Open it,” I say, not having the strength to grab the knife and do it myself.
