Page 121 of Dark Ugly Places

Jason took no time to die. Bambi’s body began to shake, and she scooted back from the red river now coursing from her until she was back up against the far wall of the kitchen. She had been sitting, shaking there for what seemed like an eternity, Martha crouching nearby, just watching.

Now Bambi pushes up on her forearms. Hands shaking. “You knew all along. Didn’t you?”

Martha picks up the knife Jason had been holding and wipes it on the side of her trousers. She looks at her, unfeeling. “I saved your life. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Warm tears pool and brim from Bambi’s eyes. “Not like this,” her voice shakes. “Not what you just did.”

Martha shakes her head and sighs like a disappointed teacher. “You asked for my help, and I delivered. Seems to me you should be grateful.”

Bambi sniffs and releases another few tears down the front of her blouse. “You weren’t supposed to kill him!” she rages, her voice bouncing off the walls, an echo within an echo. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way!”

“Oh, shut up!” Martha yells. “Always your way, your way. Life isn’t all about what you want, you know? You people sicken me, you know that?” Bambi leans back, suddenly alight at Martha’s words.

“You people?”

“Yes. You people,” she spits. “You entitled, self-righteous people. Entitled to your pain, your misery. You have everything—a whole life—and instead of appreciating it, you’d rather wallow in self-pity and depression. It’s sickening. You have everything, and yet you choose not to live,” Martha yells. “Just look at you! You despise your life and everyone in it. You even despise yourself!”

“You killed him,” Bambi says, her voice calm and collected. “You think you won’t pay for that?”

“That’s an interesting concept. But tell me, did you pay for what you did, Bambi?”

“What are you talking about?”

Martha nears her, the knife braced at her side, her other arm waving, gesturing wildly. “What am I talking about? I’m talking about how you stood by while your husband cheated and raped and killed, and you never once stood up for anything, did you? You knew he was a rotten excuse for a human being, and yet you let him just carry right on, turning a blind eye to protect your perfect semblance of a life, didn’t you?”

Bambi’s face twitches, eyes narrow. “Jason wasn’t exactly faithful, but he wasn’t a killer …”

“Oh no?”

“You guys?”

Martha turns, and Bambi follows her gaze to the child standing in the entrance, fear painted on her expression. Her eyes clock the blood and the floor, and her breathing quickens. “What is going on?”

“Perfect timing,” Martha says. “Emmy, can you come here a second?” Martha leads with the knife, and Emmy obeys, coming over around the kitchen island. When her eyes spot Jason on the floor, she gasps and covers her mouth with both hands.

Martha pats her head and soothes her. “Don’t look at him,” she says and strokes her head in her hands, then turns so that Emmy’s scar is visible.

“Does this scar mean anything to you?”

Emmy’s eyes are terrified. She quivers as tears roll down her face.

“Well!” Martha shouts. “Does it?”

Bambi swallows, collecting herself. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Martha.”

She shoves Emmy away from her and points the knife at Bambi. “Funny, isn’t it? How can someone block out murder so easily?” She guffaws. The guffaws louden and turn to cackling as she doubles over herself in hysterics. “Actually, forget that. I happen to know exactly how that happens. Turns out, you just have to be a really cold-hearted bitch. Guess I would know!”

Bambi’s eyes enflame. “Fuck you, Martha. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Martha, let’s just stop, okay?” Emmy pleads, her voice strained and small.

Martha shakes her head, ignoring her. “No. Not you. You’re just perfect, aren’t you? Too good for everyone, including me.”

Bambi freezes as Martha wags the knife blade in Jason’s general direction. “I’m talking about Jason over there.”

Emmy glances between them, breathing rapidly. “Martha, we need to call the police,” she says softly. “This is enough.”

The blade of the knife redirects to Emmy. “See, that’s what I thought you would say, little one. Which is why we need to end this game of ours once and for all.”