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Chapter Fifteen
Branson
I feel heavy as I take the familiar steps down the stairs. Though my body easily follows the command, my mind wars with my reason and all I want to do is turn around and wrap my hand around Jane’s neck. I imagine squeezing, watching her face turn red then blue, her nails clawing at me until the light fades from her eyes.
It takes everything in me not to turn around and make that a reality. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m not, even as I get to the disgusting room Jane calls mine. And what was with Mia shaking her head no? She saw what I wanted in my eyes; I don’t doubt it. If there was ever someone who could recognize hate, I know it's her. Does she really think she can keep me from my vengeance? After all Jane fucking did to me?
The fury rises in my blood, and I stand.
Fuck this.
It’s so easy to let my body and mind fall into the habit of following commands, but no more.
I turn back to the door to see Mia standing there. She moves into the room, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“She’s looking for Bud,” she tells me, “I think—”
“I’m going to kill her, and we’re going to leave,” I tell her, starting to push past until she stops me with a hand.
“You can’t!”
“You’d fucking defend her?” I demand, “After all of it, you’ll fucking protect her.”
I see her tense and her jaw tighten.
“You don’t understand her like I do! She’s like a mother to me,” she whispers. I have to take a deep breath before I can continue. I don’t know which one of them I’m more pissed at. Jane for fucking twisting her, making her think she actually fucking cares, or Amelia for fucking falling for it.
“Yeah, she was like a mother for a while to me too. Until she fucking tortured and abused me for a fucking decade,” I spit at her and she flinches. “Then again, I suppose that’s just a good fucking day of your childhood, huh?”
I see a flash of guilt, but not nearly enough. “Just hold on today. I’ll keep her upstairs and we can leave tonight. Together.”
My eyes narrow at her for a second before I laugh, shaking my head. Ridiculously, my first instinct is to do what she wants and not even to follow her orders but because I legitimately don’t want to hurt her. How I can want to hurt her less than I want to hurt Jane is beyond me. Fuck me, I’m fucked up. I shake my head with another laugh.
“Whatever, Teddy,” I bite at her, turning to take a seat and picking up one of my favorite books. “I’ll wait till tonight to leave. Do you know why?”
She shakes her head, misery written on her face.
“Because I actually fucking love you enough that I don’t want to hurt you. Not like that, anyway,” I tell her, not hiding the bitterness in my voice. I rise one more time, moving closer until I’m leaning into her, my face inches from hers. “Now. Go. Away.”
Her jaw ticks. She looks at me a moment longer before turning on a heel and walking back upstairs. When she’s gone, my fist strikes out, hitting the wall beside me and adding another hole to the already decrepit room.
Fuck.
???
Despite being pissed at her, I can admit to myself that the time to collect myself is welcome. I’ve spent so much of my life now wishing I was somewhere else, but I never considered where I would go. I kind of wish I could talk through it with Mia, ask her about where we really are, but it doesn’t really matter.
The only things from this place I’ll take with me are the scars on my skin.
Maybe I can convince her to burn it down. I’ll dance around the corpse of this place.
Why should I care about Jane being here, anyway? About not being able to kill her? Sure, it felt fucking great to get rid of Bud, but I’m not like them. I’m not a fucking killer.
I can and will do what I have to, but my life has had so much hate in it that letting go of the remains of it I hold don’t seem so hard.
Sitting in my old place, my mind drifts and I find myself nodding off, dreaming of fire and blood with a smile on my face.
???
I suppose it's a sad thing to say that I’m pretty familiar with the sensation of being drugged, but there it is. What does suck is waking from good dreams to Jane’s face close to my own. The prick of a needle and the oppressive blackness starts to pull me down quickly. My heart doesn’t crack until I notice Teddy standing behind her just as my vision fades completely.
