Page 76 of Kill Me

“Attacks, plural?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes, plural. I only watched one video. It was all I could

stomach.

“Hang on a minute. You watched a video of your own rape?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Well, how else was I supposed to know what happened to me?” she deadpans, like her response is normal.

“You’re a badass bitch, you know that, Quinn?”

She whips her hair over her shoulder and says, “I try.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Disgusted. My own brother’s dick has been inside of me. I feel sick as fuck. But the worst betrayal is my best friend, Millie. I almost expected it from him and his friend. He’s been stealing my underwear since he was eleven. Not necessarily doing it to me, but a rapist? That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you remember any of the attacks?”

She shakes her head. “No, the only knowledge I have that it happened is from watching that video. His friend Keelan clearly wasn’t involved; he wanted to help me get closure.”

“But?”

“But then nothing. I don’t remember what happened next. If I had to assume, I would say it was close to my accident. Which I’m realising through this conversation with you, more than likely wasn’t an accident and was probably something to do with them.”

“You don’t seem emotional about it?” I ask, carefully, not wanting to trigger an onslaught of unnecessary emotion.

“I’ve had a few days to process my emotions over it. I’ve journalled about it. I was upset. Now I’m fucking angry. Now I want revenge. Fuck closure. The small percentage of rapists that go to jail in this country is disgusting. Closure is impossible. Revenge, however—revenge sounds like fun. And I think I deserve a little fun, don’t you?” Her eyes light up. “Now it’s your turn for a truth.”

“When I murder the predators, I cut off their dicks just as they get to the precipice of their climax. So for the rest of their miserable existence they know the feeling of disappointment every woman who’s ever had to fake it with them feels.”

“That’s fucking brilliant.” She sits there for a moment, closing in on herself. Ted nudges her with his nose, trying to prompt her into fussing him so she’s distracted from her brain.

“What’s on your mind, Quinn?”

“Would you help me?” She looks at me hopefully.

“Help you with what?”

“Revenge.”

“I’ll do anything you need me to do for you to be okay, Quinn. But murder isn’t easy. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to end someone’s life and have no feelings of remorse. I’m not an emotional being. I’m logical. You’re not. You’re the complete opposite of me. Which is amazing, because if everyone was like me, a) I’d be out of a job and the world would be fucking messy, and b) no one would ever be able to truly appreciate what love feels like.” I stand up and kneel in front of her.

“So, yes. I’ll help you. But you have decisions to make, and what I say goes.”

She nods. “I’m listening.”

“Your dad. Does he have a redemption story in your mind?”

“He could do. I suppose how he acts over the next sequence of events will determine that for me. I don’t want him dead. I don’t believe he deserves to die.”

Clearly she’s a lot more stable than anyone ever thought she was.

“When it comes to your mum, how do you feel? Do you still wake up

every day wondering why you weren’t enough and why she doesn't love you?”

“I do,” she admits.