My blood chills and my teeth are on edge, “What the fuck is this? Some kind of joke?” I scoff, shoving the paper back into Brandon’s hand. “That’s not fucking funny. Who wrote this really?” My palms begin to sweat the longer they stay quiet.
“Hello?” I snap, “Did you all become fucking deaf. Answer me, dammit!” I yell kicking one of my strewn about drawers. Teddy and Brandon flinch at the outburst but the other two stay stoic and still.
“Calm down, Princess. We didn’t write that note, it fell from your journal when we went to pick up Kahl’s heart.” Brandon starts, with his hands up defensively. “We were hoping it was old but…” he waved his hand at my current state, and it’s clear that I’ve never seen this before.
I pull on the sides of my hair and pace to the back of the room to stare out my window. “Little devil…” Teddy whispers and starts to approach me, but I cut my eyes at him to stop him in his tracks.
“No, Teddy. Not now.”
“Okay. Let’s start looking at this logically, it’s clear that this couldn’t be something new from Kahl. He’s dead,youkilled him. A pretty vital organ of his is currently in my deep freezer.” Max finally speaks, and a reminder of his rejection from last night penetrates my brain, causing me to get angry at a whole new situation.
I scoff and shake my head at him, “Always so fucking logical.”
“Excuse me?” He drops his eyebrows.
“You know what I’m talking about, always so fucking logical with everything. Can’t ever just fucking let go and relax, always so goddamn uptight.” My voice raises higher than I mean it to, but I square my shoulders, refusing to show any weakness.
“Watch your fucking tone, Zoe.” He barks back.
Zoe, not Harpy.I drop my expression, letting the numb take over and infect every inch of my soul, responding with a cold, “Yes sir, boss.”
I turn away from them and look back to my window.Logically,I know that he sent me to bed because I was exhausted.Logically,I know that my father did not resurrect from the dead to leave me some ominous note in my old diary.Logically,I know I know I’m not in a logical state of mind. I don’t want to feel the emotions coming on at the thought of Kahl still being alive, or being rejected, I don’t want tofeel.
“May I get dressed, boss? Or would you like me to conduct the questioning with Deangelo without pants?” My voice is dry, and robotic. I barely recognize the sound, but I know it’s me from the way that the four concerned faces stare at me.
“We’ll see you downstairs.” Max says, in the same dry tone that sounds so cold the air turns thick and frosty, before pulling the other three to exit with him.
Due to my door being shattered on the ground and completely off its hinges, I just close myself in the bathroom.
I need to get out, I feel trapped. It’s too much, it’s all too much.
I stare at the woman in the reflection of my mirror. I don’t recognize her. Her eyes are distant and glazed over, she has filled out a bit, but she looks… She looks so… empty. I’m guessing this is what the numb looks like. She looks calculated, but like a drone. No sign of emotion, no sign of the hurt I know the real me is feeling.
Now is not the time to feel. Now is the time to destroy.
I mechanically wash my face and pull my hair back into a slick high ponytail. I dress myself in a pair of tight black leather pants, red opened toed strappy heels that are about five inches tall on a slim point. I slide on a red corset top that’s inches my waist and pushes my chest together to show off ample cleavage. I take my time with my makeup, adding dark eye shadow, sharp winged liner, and blood red lipstick.
Staring back at the woman in the reflection, she looks put together. Cleaner, but lethal. This is theNumb. The Sparrow.
I don’t rush down the stairs, I take my time clicking down with methodical loud steps so the brothers can hear my approach.
“Let’s get to work, boys.” I call out before I round the corner to go to the cellar, not waiting for them to follow.
I hear them closely on my heels, but I don’t turn to look at them.
“Princess, we don’t have to do this right now.” Brandon speaks in a hushed worried tone.
“Get me your bat, Brandon.” I bark, ignoring his advice.
He doesn’t respond, only tightens his lips into a straight line before passing me his bat that was leaning on the wall next to him.
I whistle as I tap the bat against Deangelo, “Wakey, wakey.” I say in a sing-song voice, “The Sparrow needs to speak with you." I drag out my words as he slowly cracks his eyes open.
“Sparrow?” He croaks in a confused tone. Deangelo looks absolutely pathetic without his hands that are now burned at his wrist nubs.
“That’s right. I have a few questions for you.” I poke the pat into the now charred wound.
“Please,” Deangelo chokes, “I’ll tell you anything, just don’t kill me. I have a family; I have a daughter.”
