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Something Charlie had given all the boys.
Something he had given me as well.
A simple pocketknife.
But sturdy.
Sharp.
I had pricked my finger just handling it once, bled for a good fifteen minutes, only after realizing I had snipped the very tip of my finger off. It was still white and scarred, felt weird to the touch.
It would do damage.
A lot of damage.
But first, I had to make myself seem like less of a threat.
So I could get close.
So I could do what I needed to do.
No, not just needed.
I wanted this.
I wanted to do this.
The bloodthirst coursed through my veins, hot enough to catch fire.
"Please," I begged, letting my voice hitch high and hysterical, a sound I could never be called known for, but I drew it forth from somewhere deep inside me, along with the twinkling of tears in my eyes. "Please just let them live the lives they want," I went on, moving a few feet to round the side of the desk before pausing. "You don't have to do this," I added, reaching up with both hands, pretending to wipe tears off my cheeks.
"I don't have to. I want to."
And that was the match that ignited the flame inside.
My fingers found the blade, pulled, and flipped it open before he could even understand the motion.
I closed the two feet left between us, pressing the heel of my hand into the underside of his chin with one hand while plunging with the other.
Not slicing.
That was the mistake with the carotid.
People sliced.
They needed to plunge.
So I plunged.
Then I watched as the blood poured out, fast and unstoppable, getting on my fingers before I pulled away.
I watched for a few seconds while he gurgled, throat filling with blood instead of air.
Fifteen, twenty seconds max.
That was all it took for him to pass out, body slamming to the floor.
I didn't need to stay to watch his chest stop rising. That would only be another forty or so more seconds.
It was over.
It was all finally fucking over.
I wiped the blood off the blade on his shirt, tucked it back up my sleeve, and made my way to the door.
Leon was still outside the door, eyeing me curiously when I stepped out for a second, nose twitching like he could smell the blood even before his eyes moved down to my bloodstained hands.
"Don't bother. It's over," I told him. "If you're smart, you'd own it to the other men, claim his spot, and move forward." His chin lifted at that, letting me know I was right to offer it to him. "You never saw me here."
"Saw who here?"
"And you leave my family the fuck alone."
"Don't even know who you are," he said, shrugging away the years he had spied on us.
But that was all I needed to hear.
With that, I walked out.
When I came in the back door, careful to use the crook of my arm and elbow to do it, Charlie was in the kitchen, brow raised. Like he knew. He knew without looking.
"You okay?"
"I'm... it's over," I told him, giving him a nod even as he put his mug down so he could turn on the water.
"Come on. Let's clean up," he said, waving me over. "Where is it?" he asked. I released my sleeve, shaking it, watching the knife drop into the sink. "I'll get rid of that," he told me, moving behind as I let the water run over my hands, snagging the hem of my shirt. "Arms up," he demanded. My arms immediately complied, and he stripped me of my shirt, rolling it inside out, tucking it into a garbage bag along with the knife before moving behind me again, arms reaching to help me scrub mine, scraping under my fingernails with the tips of his own, having done this way more often than I had, so having some skill at it.
"We're all free," I told him with a small voice, feeling the weight of another life on my shoulders.
"We are," he agreed, rinsing his fingers, patting them on a dishcloth, then wrapping his arms around me, pressing a kiss into my bare shoulder. "You did that," he reminded me. "Most amazing fucking woman I've ever met. Biggest badass in this family, and no one even knows it."
"You know it," I told him, feeling his words move over me like some healing salve. "Hey Charlie," I said after a long moment.
"Yeah, baby?"
"I think I am in need of some... ministrations," I said, feeling my lips pull up at the deep rumble in his chest.
I felt his hand leave my belly, moving up to press down flat in the middle of my chest. "Well, you are still breathing," he said with a smile in his voice before he lowered down behind me.It was maybe a week later as I was walking down the street when I saw him again.
