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That was enough to make Brett snap. He lurched toward me, bringing his hands to my neck, so quickly I couldn’t sidestep him or dodge him to get out of the way. His hands were large and strong, rougher than Neo’s had been, and they curled around my throat so hard I instantly gasped for air.
“I am nothing like the Montgomerys, and neither was Neo,” Brett hissed out.
“Pot,” I struggled to say, “meet the kettle.” Each word was a labor to get out thanks to the hands around my neck and how tightly he squeezed. It wasn’t long after that that I grew lightheaded, my vision spotting with stars. My lungs burned as I continued to try to breathe, but every time I failed, it was like they sent jabs of pain through my chest to remind me that particular bodily function wasn’t optional.
“Fuck!” Brett let me go, though he threw me to the ground in the process. He stepped away from me, running both his hands through his hair as he paced the area before me. We’d turned away from the corpse, and he was between me and the only exit. “You,” he pointed at me as he paced back and forth, “you know exactly what to say to get under my skin. You’re like a fucking witch.”
If that’s what made him feel better about letting his anger get the better of him, then he could go right ahead. Truth was, Neo and him? They were easy to read. Of course they didn’t want to be like Gareth or Alistair. They hated them on principle.
But again, I wasn’t wrong, and as I managed to stand once more, I threw Brett an unimpressed look. “I’m not wrong, though. You’re the same. The only difference I see between you is the money.”
“It’s not just the money,” Brett spoke. He stopped pacing, turning his body toward me as he met my stare with his own. “It’s what that money helps them get away with. They could burn the entire world down and no one would blink! It’s like they’re fucking gods!”
Hasn’t it always been about the haves and the have-nots? The wealthy and the poor? It was a tale as old as time, and with the state of the world, it wouldn’t change anytime soon.
“Sometimes,” Brett went on, practically growling out the words, “you have to become a monster to take another monster down.” He cracked his neck, and then his knuckles, and it sure as hell looked like he was getting ready to take me down. “No one else will do it, so it might as well be me. You made sure Neo couldn’t do it himself, so I’m going to bring you home, lock you in my basement, and make you watch as I burn that fucking mansion down.”
“All right,” I said. “You can kidnap me, torture me, keep me locked up in a creepy basement, but until they’re all dead, they won’t stop looking for you. It’s only a matter of time until you fuck up, and Alistair and Rick will be right there.”
Did I want him to kidnap me? Of course not, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to quake in my boots like a scared little girl. I wasn’t afraid of the dark. I never was. I might be looking a demon in its eyes right now, but I refused to be frightened. He would get no satisfaction from me.
“By the time they find you, you’ll be dead,” Brett whispered as he took an aggressive step toward me. He pulled out something from his pocket, a small syringe, and if I had to guess, it was the same shit Neo had given me after knocking me out, the same shit that had made me weaker than a half-dead cat for a while. “You’ll be dead, and they’ll follow your example shortly after. The world will be a better place without any of you in it.”
When he took another step toward me, I backed up, closer to my mom’s body. “And what about you?” I asked, stopping him cold. “Say you get what you want. Say you kill me, kill Alistair and Rick and Gareth, say there’s no one left when the smoke clears—no one but you. Don’t you think the world would be a better place without you in it, too? Let’s not forget those hunting trips you and Neo went on.”
Was I stalling for time, hoping that, by some miracle, someone would race through that barn door and turn the tide here? Maybe. Was I also stalling for time while hoping I could find a weapon in this dingy, dilapidated place? Uh, yeah, obviously. The last thing I wanted to do was get stuck with that syringe, whatever was in it.
Brett’s advancement paused as his legs stopped coming toward me. He stood there for a moment, a pensive look crossing his face. Eventually, after a long bout of silence, he told me, “I still take issue with you saying we’re alike—I’m nothing like Alistair and Gareth Montgomery—but… I suppose you’re right.”
Okay, that wasn’t what I thought he’d say. “I am? Uh, I mean, yes, I am.” Oh, I wanted to smack myself after that one.
“So, after I kill you and take care of the others, I’ll leave Eastcreek. Hell, I’ll leave the state. I’ll change my name, move somewhere nice and quiet, and become a normal, functioning member of society,” Brett spoke, and just like that, his wolfish smile returned.
“You really think you can do that? Do all of this, and just like that, turn the switch off inside your head? Weren’t you the one who just told me some people were born wrong? Maybe I was, but so were you.”
“Hmm.” Brett’s gaze fell to the syringe in his hand, and after another moment of silence, he lifted it and tore off the cap to the needle, squeezing out a bit of the liquid inside to get out any stray air bubbles. “You’re right. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” He took another step toward me, ready to stick that needle in me and take me to a second location… or, third? Whatever.
“Wait,” I spoke as I lifted a hand toward him. “You can do whatever you want to me, stick me with whatever that is and take me to your basement where you can tie me up and be the serial killer you’ve always dreamed of being, but first…” I lowered my hand. “Can I get one last look at my mom? You were right. She is your best work yet.”
Brett squinted at me, and I could tell he didn’t want to give me more time with her, but in the end, he did just that. “Fine. You can have one more minute, but that’s it.” He moved so that he stood directly in front of me, so that when I turned to look at my mom, he’d be right behind me.
Shit. I had to figure something out, and I had to do it fast. I couldn’t wait on the others to save me. This bitch had to save herself.
I turned and gave Brett my back, taking a tiny step toward my mom’s body. My eyes studied her frame, how she was strung up, how bits and pieces of her midsection were exposed. The half of her head that had been skinned, down to her chest, where the exposed half of her ribs were.
I think I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t know if it would work.
Inching to the side and using my body to hide the part of my mom that was all bloody bones, I lifted my hand and ran my fingers along her face. Her eyes were closed—the eye that had its eyelid, anyway. The other stared unblinkingly at me, an uncanny thing. It’s the most my mom had ever stared at me.
Her skin was cold. Well, barn-temperature, I should say.
“How long did it take you to do all this?” I asked as I glanced at him over my shoulder. My left hand was on my mom’s face still, caressing the cold, bare skin while my body hid my true motive from him. Get him talking, get him to think I was staring at him and touching my mom’s face. Call me a magician, because this was a case of the classic redirect.
As Brett mumbled about how long it had taken him to dress up my mom like this, to skin her and gut her, my right hand dug into my mom’s vacant chest. My fingers ran along the inner curve of the lowest rib, stopping only when they reached her spine.
“I’m surprised she didn’t fall apart like this,” I whispered, glancing between him and my mom. The hand on her face had fallen to her collarbone while my other hand curled around the base of the rib and tried to pull it out without using too much upper body strength.
But, what would you know? The rib was stuck in there good thanks to muscle or tendons or whatever the hell kept the ribcage attached to the spine.
