Now I understood the fury he had toward Dennis.
“I can only imagine what you went through.” I swiped at my teary eyes with my sleeve. “You must’ve felt so alone and guilty.”
Kain reached for a tissue from the coffee table and offered it to me.
“Thank you.” I dabbed my eyes, letting his confessions sink in. When the shock of his mom’s death settled, my mind blazed with the fact that Kain had killed his father.
I met his intense eyes, probably waiting for my response. I looked at our intertwined hands. A murderer was holding my hand. Was I okay with that?
“Are you afraid of me now?” he asked.
I appreciated his direct question. He didn’t soften it. He offered the truth as it was, with no sugar-coating. To my surprise, I didn’t fear him nor feel any discomfort.
“You defended your mother and yourself. Though your father never hurt you physically, the violence you witnessedbecame mental abuse.” Tears filled my eyes again. “I’m not afraid of you, Kain. If I were in trouble, I’d want someone like you beside me.”
I wanted his fierce protection.
He pulled me to him, wrapping both powerful arms around me and burying his head in my hair. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
I should have been scared, but I understood where he was coming from. He was protective of his mother. Seeing her die from the violence pushed him to end the monster. I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to do what he did, but I understood why he had to do it.
Pulling back, he gave me more tissues. “I killed him a few days after I escaped my kidnappers.”
“What?” I gasped, unsure if I had heard him right. “Who kidnapped you? When was this?”
I knew little about this man and the dark world he’d lived in.
“A serial killer named Victor Hawthorne and his followers. You’ve probably heard of the Black Rose Killer. He kidnapped children and forced them to work for him. I removed organs from people he killed.”
Bile burned my throat, and my body shook. I leaped from the couch, rushed into the bathroom, and crouched on the toilet, vomiting.
Kain gathered my hair in his hand. “Are you okay?”
I heaved again and took the towel he offered. “Sorry.” Embarrassment washed over me. I couldn’t believe this.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He filled a glass of water from the sink. “Wash out the aftertaste with this.”
“That won’t help. Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”
Kain opened a box with an electric toothbrush for me.While I brushed, he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching me. When I finished, he used a washcloth to dab my face, a gesture that surprised and embarrassed me.
“Feel better?” he asked.
I nodded, trying not to meet his eyes. We returned to the living room, and I resumed the same spot as before. When he took the seat beside me, I said, “I have organophobia—fear of organs. A series of images came to mind when you described what they forced you to do.”
“Did you get treatment for it?”
“Yes, when I was a teen, but it didn’t help. So I’ve just been trying to overcome it on my own. I’m a lot better now.”
“Let me know if I can help.” He bumped shoulders with me.
“Continue with your story. I want to know everything.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I took his hand. “With you beside me, I’ll be fine. That particular detail took me by surprise. But I’m prepared now.”
Kain described what Hawthorne forced him and his friends to do, and my stomach twisted with fear and anger. How could people be this inhumane? I knew the world was dark. I saw it on TV daily, but what occurred on the TV screen seemed distant. The stories Kain revealed were evil. I heard it in his voice and saw it in his eyes.
