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MAKO STANDS BESIDE ME, despite me asking him to stay downstairs. He refused and followed me up just to look at pathetic ol’ Ryan, hanging by a rope from the ceiling. It’s only been two days and he’s dehydrated and suffering from blood loss. His arms are turning grey with a slight blue tint, all blood having drained from his limbs some time ago. Part of me wants to let them down so he can feel the sharp burning pain.
“I promised myself I’d shove something up his ass,” I state calmly. Mako’s head snaps towards me much faster than the slow lift of Ryan’s head. He glares at me with a heat of a hot poker in a bonfire.
“Why?”
“For the times he shoved his dick up my ass and brutally raped me,” I reply, my voice calm and even. I rub my lips together, pop them and tack on, “Twice.”
Mako’s reaction, however, is opposite of mine. He nearly explodes, his body jerking with shock and then bristling when the familiar wrath Ryan provokes in Mako takes over.
He stalks over to Ryan in two big steps, brings his fist back and powers it forward straight into Ryan’s face. The crunch of his nose breaking beneath Mako’s fist is entirely satisfying. A loud groan slips from Ryan’s mouth as blood gushes from his broken nose and down his mouth and neck. The blood drips onto the floor, joining the rest of his mess.
At this point, there’s more of Ryan’s blood on the floor than inside his own body. I had gone to a hole-in-the-wall hardware store down in Shallow Hill that I was sure didn’t have cameras and bought rolls of plastic, using cash only. He’s in the middle of the room, with no objects around so the blood spatter won’t be too much of a hassle to clean. Aside from my poor little victim, there’s only a single bulb up here. Not even a window for ventilation.
The attic is one of the few rooms in this mansion that was never finished, though it’s not the typical dusty, creepy attic in most houses. Ryan would always have Mary and Ava come up here once a week and keep up the maintenance. Like any house, Ryan stored family memories up here and didn’t want them compromised by nature.
I study the scene before me with delight. If Mako can get out some of his pent-up aggression from the way Ryan has treated him their entire lives, I would only be happy to witness that.
Mako was abused by Ryan too, after all. Verbally, mentally, emotionally. Maybe even physically, if I know anything about Ryan. Those are all critical aspects to a growing child—especially one who was born into the life Mako was born into. I’ve no idea what Mako went through before he met Julie and Matt, but I can guess it wasn’t pleasant. Regardless, he didn’t deserve Ryan’s abuse any more than me or Alison did.
Ryan curses at Mako, calling him every name in the Devil’s handbook. Each insult is followed up by another hit to the face. Blood splatters across Mako’s face. A droplet lands on my toe. I stare at the droplet, flesh hitting flesh and Ryan’s increasingly slurred speech the backdrop to my straying thoughts.
Ryan may have suffered immeasurable pain at the hands of his father, but that was never Mako’s fault. And that was never mine or any other woman’s fault, either. Ryan took his anger out on the innocent, and it’s unforgiveable.
I refuse to feel remorse for a man who doesn’t believe he did anything wrong.
I’m going to have to kill him. Murder Ryan in cold blood. This tiny droplet of blood is going to stain my skin forever. Even when it washes away, I’ll still see it. I’ll see it there, and I’ll see it coating my hands.
Can I live with that?
Can I live with myself knowing that I was the reason a life drained from a person’s eyes?
I wiggle my toes, another droplet landing on them.
Yeah, I can. I’ve taken back the power stolen from me, wielded it like a weapon, and slayed my demons.
Mako storms away from a limp, bloodied Ryan and comes to stand behind me. He’s heaving, rage still prevalent on his face. I glance down to see his bloody, shredded knuckles. I lick my lips. A darkness is spreading throughout my soul, tainting it black.
Mako covered in blood is a delicious sight. I want to be just as bloody as he is.
“Have fun with her, bro,” Ryan garbles through the blood pouring into his mouth. He spits it out and licks his lips, as if that’ll help. “You’re dating a psychopath. Now that she’s got a taste for torture and murder, what makes you think she’ll stop? She’s the perfect fucking formula for a serial killer. It’s almost boring.”
I look up the ceiling, seriously contemplating killing another person. Maybe if they were a rapist like Ryan. A truly shitty person—an absolute monster that preys on the innocent and weak. But would I grab a random off the street and torture and kill them? The thought makes me want to vomit. It doesn’t matter what Ryan says, I know deep down I could never kill someone who’s innocent.
“I don’t really have much interest in covering up a bunch of dead bodies,” I answer dryly. “Yours is going to be inconvenient enough.”
Ryan laughs, the sound nearly reaching the same pitch as a hyena. “Good luck explaining this to my parents,” he mocks, his eyes piercing Mako and I with glee.
For some reason, it bothers me that he says my parents. Like Mako being adopted doesn’t qualify Julie and Matt as his parents, too. They raised him from early childhood. They’re just as much as Mako’s parents as they are Ryan’s.
Even if one of them also deserves to die.
I whip my hand out, slashing my knife across Ryan’s face. The cut is superficial. Wouldn’t even leave a scar. But it still stings him nonetheless.
“They’re Mako’s parents, too,” I bite out.
Ryan doesn’t acknowledge that. Beside me, Mako’s eyes are burning a hole in the side of my head. I refuse to meet his eyes, not quite ready to face the emotion I’ll see. Connecting with someone romantically while murdering my abusive boyfriend doesn’t sit right with me. Messes with my inner peace.
“They know I’d never kill myself. You can’t pass this off as a suicide. The minute I’m late for work, Dad will know something is wrong. I’m too important, you can’t just explain my life away,” Ryan taunts, his voice growing stronger as does his confidence.
