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I see the moment of decision in Jane's eyes before she moves, her hand striking out behind her and hitting Teddy's cheek. She cries out and falls to the floor, clearly not expecting it.
"After all I did for you," Jane says with an even voice that's all the more menacing for the lack of emotion behind it. "Ungrateful cunt." A foot comes out toward Teddy, and though I can't see where it hits from this angle, I hear the moan of pain that follows.
Jane turns her attention back to me.
"I should have killed you the day you arrived," she tells me matter-of-factly as she brings the scalpel toward my face. I let a smile curve on my face.
"Finally, something we agree on."
My teeth clench and I breathe heavily out of my nose as I wait for the cut I've been anticipating for fifteen years. Though I try to resist, as her hand hovers above my sternum my eyes clench shut.
I just hope it's fast.
A demonic shriek makes my eyes shoot open, widening further as I watch Jane's mouth open, a trickle of blood flowing out as she drops to her knees. Teddy stands behind her, her hand still on the blade sticking out of Jane’s back. Tears run down her red cheeks, even as she pulls the blade free, eliciting a loud squelching noise.
“I fucking hate that word,” Teddy states. Jane cries out as Teddy slams the knife down again and again. The expression on Teddy’s face is manic as she stabs over and over.
Splatters of blood hit her cheeks, pink where Jane hit her but otherwise clear porcelain. Her mouth is parted and tears flow down her face, but she looks ecstatic. The passion and mania pouring off her in waves. I couldn’t stop myself from getting hard if I wanted to.
She stops with a heaving chest. Jane turns to look at her protege's face and falls to the side.
I wish I could have seen the look on Jane’s face.
Teddy looks at the bleeding body at her feet for another moment before her eyes rise to meet mine, their green depths swimming with emotion. Fierce satisfaction is the first thing I see, the darkness I should have learned to accept long ago.
It's only seconds before her lower lip shakes and I watch her swallow deeply, one more tear falling as Jane lets out a final shuddering breath.
Silence.
Teddy:
I move on autopilot, releasing Branson from the familiar bindings. Neither of us say anything. The room is completely silent. Blood and death don't bother me, but I don't look at the ground yet.
Jane was losing it, she needed to die, and I couldn't let her kill Branson. It’s not like I’ve ever felt regret for a kill before. But....
A choked sob falls from my throat and I have to catch myself on a table so I don't fall to the ground. Branson's arm comes up beside me, holding my elbow for support. I breathe out to steady myself before looking up to his face. The expression on his face is a mix of emotion that I can't even begin to read. The only part I recognize is the hint of love still shining through.
I don't stop the instinct to throw myself into his arms, letting the sobs overtake me. He says nothing but opens his arms to wrap me inside, holding me close as I cling to him and cry like I've never cried before.
Branson:
I feel numb as I hold Teddy—no, Amelia—while she cries. I've seen her kill dozens of people over the years and never seen her show remorse. A part of me feels bitter that she should be sad over that psycho bitch’s death, but at the same time I can't help but understand, at least a bit.
Both of us were raised in darkness and depravity. She accepted and embraced it, I shut off and recoiled from it. Even still, there is nothing that can take away all of these years. And though Jane was an evil, narcissistic psychopath and serial killer to boot, both of us will forever carry a part of her in us.
Whatever we do next, wherever we go, death will always follow us.
After a while, her sobs slow and eventually stop, though I don't release her from my arms. Blood splatter coats us both and I'm still naked, but I don't want the moment to end yet. I've dreamed of holding her this way for so long.
"I'm sorry," she says, pulling back to wipe her face. Despite the tear tracks and bloodshot eyes, she still looks perfect to me. I don't say anything, not trusting my voice as we stand there awkwardly, both unsure how to move forward.
Mia's eyes finally go down, landing on Jane's still form.
"She's really dead," she says, cocking her head to the side.
"That's pretty fucking dead," I agree.
We stand there for several more minutes.
