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My childhood, lost to my father’s abuse and terrorization.
My innocence, tainted and stolen by this sick excuse of a man.
All the other girls he’s just admitted to grooming, stalking, God knows what else.
Most of all, my girl. My sweet little girl. Her terrified, tear-streaked face whenever she endured the man who claimed to be her daddy yelling at her, shouting at her, and beating me in front of her.
I don’t realize I’m swinging. I don’t even feel the cracks and dull thuds against his body.
I’m too far lost in my own pain, my own fear… my ownfury.
I’m so fucking sick and tired of his abusive bullshit.
I’m done being afraid.
I swing and swing and swing until my arms burn like hellfire. The only thing that pulls me out of my blinding, rage-filled haze is the silence that fills the storage container. I no longer hear his shouts, or his cries, or his sobbing pleas.
I don’t hear anything.
Martin lies there on the floor in the dim light of the battery lantern. He’s barely recognizable; his chest is caved in and his face barely intact. All the places where the hooked end of the crowbar dug into his flesh are now only bloody, oozing gashes.
I didn’t mean to.
I didn’t mean to kill him.
I didn’tset outto kill him, at least.
The last several moments come boomeranging back into my consciousness, and I fall to my knees in my own shock. And blood.
And mostly his blood.
I just…
I just beat a man to death.
I killed…
IkilledMartin Patterson.
Why am I not crying? Or screaming?
Why…
Why do I suddenly feel…
… free?
49
DEMYEN
I jump out of the Hummer and storm around the front, ready to kick down the gates to Raizo’s whole fucking operation.
Tolya grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Patience, little brother. I’d like to not get shot, if it’s all the same to you.”
I hate that he has a point.
I hate that Clara’s in there and I’m out here.
