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“I’ve already racked up a whole fucking lot of sins. One more isn’t going to change anything.”
Jaw shifting, he flinches again. Perhaps he’s just realized I’ve no intentions of sparing him. “Just so you know? I didn’t take the full payment from your pops. I couldn’t. Val was special to me, too.” He looks away, lips tight, but I’m not buying this show. “I hated having to kill her. I hated that he made me hurt you.”
Bullshit. “Is that your last confession?”
“I loved you like a brother, man. I would’ve killed for you.”
“Instead, you killedme.” As I round his body, he twists, kicking out at me in a piss-poor attempt to keep me from getting close, but I skirt his flailing legs and crouch beside his head. Curling iron in hand, I grab hold of his skull, gripping him in the crook of my arm like a football. “May you burn in hell. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” I set the curling iron to his lips, holding tight as a scream pounds inside his chest, and his body seizes in a failed effort to break free. “Amen.”
I think of Val, wondering if she’d have wanted this, seeing me so crazed with vengeance that I can’t see past the blinding rage. And Isabella. Would she have feared me afterward? Or been comforted by the slaying of her monster. What about Ivy? Will she wake with remorse?
When I pull the curling iron away, bits of flesh stick to the metal, and he stills in my arms, eyes closed, probably passed out. His swollen lips are sealed together, as though soldered. I release his head and stare down at him.
It’s too late to ponder whether, or not, I’m a good man for what I’m about to do. I can’t see past the tears on their faces, the pain in their eyes. It’s a torment that outweighs my conscience. One that challenges my faith. My devotion to God tells me to forgive this man and let him be judged for his sins.
The stabbing pain inside my heart is a reminder that I can’t.
And as a result, it’s going to be a long night, because I’ve no intentions of granting him mercy.
* * *
Blood pools across the white tiles, seeping into the rug on the bathroom floor. The evidence of one fatal crack to a skull. Vinnie’s arms, legs and face bear the burns of the curling iron, while his mangled cheekbones carry the punishing blows of a hammer I found in one of Ivy’s junk drawers in the kitchen. Kneecaps busted, along with several toes, he lies motionless on the bathroom floor, as I wash away the remnants of his blood streaked across my arm into the sink above him.
At the flicker of movement in my periphery, I lift my gaze see to Ivy, standing in the doorway, face a ghostly shade of white, as she covers her mouth. In the next second, she falls beside the toilet and expels a torrent of vomit that splashes up in her face. Over and over again, she empties her stomach, and I stand watching her, drying my hands on the towel.
“Oh, my God.” Another belly-deep cough, and she spits the stringing mucus from her lips into the toilet.
“I told you before, Ivy.” I toss the towel, stained with faint smears of Vinnie’s blood, onto the sink. “There is no God here.” Peeling back the sleeve of my shirt, I notice the bleeding has slowed quite a bit, the slice to my arm burning, gaping with clotted blood, but bearable.
“Calvin … is he dead?”
I glance down at Vinnie, then back to her. “I’d say so. Does the thought of that trouble you?”
“I didn’t …. Oh, God.” She heaves into the toilet bowl again, and I reach down to pull back her hair, catching the flinch of her shoulder when I massage her there. “I didn’t think you’d do it.”
“You doubted me?” Brow raised, I release her, and she rises to her feet and rinses her mouth in the sink, swishing some mouthwash set out on the counter. “Any chance you have a large garbage bag? Like, lawn and leaf size?”
Another glance toward Vinnie, then back to me, and she stumbles out of the room, returning with a shiny black bag that I slide up over Vinnie’s legs. Hands uncuffed, he folds easily, as I stuff him into the bag, my muscles shaking with the effort of manipulating his body. I tie it closed, trapping the demons of my past inside with him. After giving one good yank of the knot to seal it, I push to my feet and check my shoes, which show no trace of blood that could be tracked through her apartment.
“What …. What are you going to do with him?”
More of his blood stains my forearms up to the rolled sleeves of my black shirt, and across my chest. Careful to avoid the blood on the floor, I scrub at my skin once more, washing away the evidence of my cruelty, and dry my hands a second time on the towel that’ll need to be trashed along with the bathroom rug. “I’m going to throw him into my trunk. Drive him to the church. And dump him into the septic tank. Isn’t that what we talked about?”
“Yes, but—”
Gripping her chin, I guide her eyes toward mine. “No buts. This is what you asked for, isn’t it? The only way out?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re going to clean up the blood on the floor. Bleach it. And burn the rug. I don’t want to see a trace of blood when I get back here, understand?”
She nods, eyes filling with tears that I know aren’t for him, but because she’s scared. A trembling little mouse who narrowly missed the bite of a venomous snake.
“Don’t be afraid. He can’t hurt you, anymore. You’re free, Ivy.” Planting a kiss to her lips, I grip the back of her neck, staring down at her. “Now I need you to clean up as good as you can. Can you do that for me?”
With an emphatic nod, she licks her lips. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
“Good.” One more kiss, and I release her, keeping my eyes on hers for any sign that she might lose it while I’m gone. For now, the dull shine staring back at me tells me she’s resolved. Perhaps relieved, if she were to be honest with herself.
