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Black chunks fly up around my arms.
One lands on my cheek, sliding down and leaving a dark smear.
The noise is so loud, repeating and constant.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
The thing on the floor doesn’t move.
It makes a low noise and the image of me beats it faster, harder.
I’m like a wild animal, my dark hair flying.
Vomit burns hot at the base of my throat.
I’m going to be sick.
“Stop this!” Mark lunges forward, taking the mouse out of Molly’s hand.
Still, it takes several seconds before he’s able to shut it off.
My eyes are fixed on the flickering video of me beating Guy until finally Roland is able to catch my hands and stop me.
His palms smear what I know is blood in wide swaths up my forearms until the club stops over my head. His eyes are round and full of horror.
I collapse to my knees where I’m standing in the center of Joshua’s apartment. Leaning down, I put my forehead on my fists. All the feelings of that night when Guy burst into my dressing room, his eyes blazing with abusive lust assault me at once.
I’m back in that place again, unable to catch my breath and shaking all over. It’s fight or flight, and I’m cornered.
Flight isn’t an option. I have to fight, and I’m frenzied enough to beat a man to death with my bare hands.
I thought I forgot how this feels.
I’ll never forget.
* * *
Mark
“What the fuck, Molly?” Anger burns in my chest.
At the same time, the savagery captured on video has me shaken. I’ve never seen anything like what flashed before us in harsh black and white. Lara’s actions were so brutal, so crazed, they could only have been driven by deep trauma.
Trauma I never want her to relive.
Molly’s arms are crossed and her brow set as she stares at the image on the screen. The picture is of Lara with her arms raised. Roland is behind her holding them steady, holding a club the size of a baseball bat above her head. The top half of it is dark, covered with gore like her forearms, her cheek.
Even in poor-quality video, the scene is nightmarish.
“You lied to me,” Molly turns her back to the computer. “You let me believe he died in the fire.”
“No…” Lara’s voice is muffled. Her head moves side to side, and the sound is more of a moan.
“Give up this quest.” The girl’s voice is sarcastic, mocking. “Killing won’t bring you peace. It won’t take the hurt away. Yet there you are, seizing your peace with a baseball bat.”
Now that I’ve stopped th
e fucking playback, I drop to my knees and gather Lara in my arms.
