“But first,” I say. “I need to see Mary.”
Seth looks up, tense. “You think she knows where John is?”
“I don’t know. But if she does… I need to end this. I need to end him.”
Seth nods once. “I’ll gas up the car.”
We leave the kids and the pets with Beau, and make the trip to Fresno. It takes most of the day. When we reach the house, I know something’s wrong before we even stop the car.
The mailbox is overflowing. The grass is overgrown. Flies buzz against the inside of the windows like something’s rotting. Seth sees it too. I can feel it in the way his body tenses beside me. He gets out first and walks up to the front door and I follow.
The smell hits before we’re even inside. I pull my jacket up over my nose and mouth, breathing through the fabric, but it doesn’t help much.
Seth kicks the door open.
And there she is.
Aunt Mary, decomposing on the living room floor. Skin bloated and blackened, maggots burrowing into her neck. I can’t tell what the cause of death was. Pills? A razor? Her face is too far gone to read.
I step forward.
Seth grabs my wrist. “You don’t need to see that.”
“I do.”
He lets me go.
She’s my last blood relative. My mother’s sister. The only person who knew what really happened to me as a child and did nothing.
Part of me wants to believe she deserved it. That this was karma. That she died regretting everything. But another part of me wonders if she was just weak. Another woman eaten alive by men like John, Richard and Grant.
I turn away. My eyes burn from more than just the smell.
There’s a sheet of paper next to her body. Curled and stained at the edges. I crouch and pick it up carefully.
It’s a letter addressed to me, in Mary’s handwriting.
I read it silently.
Brooke,
I was supposed to protect you.
You were the only blood I had left, and I let The Collective get you. Just like I let them get my sister.
I told myself I saved you. I thought I did. But I didn’t.
I know they’re going to hurt you. And if you do come out of this alive, your rage will kill me. And I deserve it.
So I’ll do what I was supposed to do. Even if I burn in hell for eternity.
I’m sorry, I wasn’t strong enough to save you.
– Mary
I stare at it, not sure how I feel. It was a combination of sadness, guilt, fury and pity. She was the last biological relative I had. Now there’s only me.
Then the house phone rings. I walk over and answer it with a shaky hand.
