6. One More Twist
Chapter 6
One More Twist
H e leads me past the dining room—the guests noticeably missing—and down the hall to Stephan’s room. I am surprised to see he isn’t in there waiting, but I don’t question it. The guests are gone, and he isn’t nearby.
The grapefruit spoon presses into me with every step, a reminder of my plans, of where this is going to lead.
Katarina’s stuffed animal is tucked away safely. I refuse to ruin the last item tethering her to this world.
I have one shot. One chance. And then I will reunite with my sister.
If he locks me in the collar, I won’t be able to fight back. If he shuts the door too quickly, I won’t be able to get to Stephan.
Bryton pushes me down onto the pallet. I land as carefully as I can in the small space.
He reaches above me to grab my collar.
I make a decision. “Leave it off, and I’ll do it like you want. Talk to you how you want me to,” I purr the words out easily as I look up at him through my lashes. I reach behind me to turn the lamp off. “In the dark, it’s just you and me.”
The TV is still on, and its light is enough to see as indecision swirls across his face. I push out my chest and reach for him gently, softly.
“Come here, big brother,” I say in the girliest voice I can muster as insects crawl across my skin.
The words have landed. He drops the collar, reaching forward instead.
I ignore the nausea that bubbles up my throat as he sticks his tongue down it. Instead, I use one hand to latch onto him while the other reaches behind me. It takes a few minutes to find what I’m looking for, and by the time my fingers touch the lightbulb, his hands have begun to explore. They are getting too close to the spoon I have hidden away.
One more twist—
“What the fuck is this?” Bryton is so focused on the front of my pants, where the spoon is, that he doesn’t see my other hand.
Doesn’t notice the fluorescent lightbulb in it. At least not until I am slamming it into his eyes.
It lands with a sickening crunch, and he tries to fight me, but he can no longer see. The glass has shattered in his open eyes, and pinpricks of blood are pebbling.
“You bitch!” he howls the words, flailing about, but he stumbles.
I won’t have long. I need to move. Stephan won’t be this stupid. There won’t be the element of surprise.
I lower and angle myself to effectively trip Bryton fully onto the floor. He blubbers as he goes down.
Anger mixed with pain.
I spare him one last look before rushing out of his tomb, locking the door behind me.
Stephan’s room is dark, but I can hear thundering footsteps coming from the hall. I pull the spoon out of my pants. The ends are jagged.
Perfect to scoop.
“What the fuck are you yelling about?” Stephan is annoyed as he pushes into the space. Maybe he really is stupider than I thought .
I am behind where he has thrown the door open, and I wait until he has stepped a few feet into the room, until he has unlocked the closet door, until he has opened it before I launch myself on his back.
They never expected me to fight. That is abundantly clear.
The spoon goes into his left eye with a squish.
His wailing pushes me further. I scoop and swirl the makeshift weapon as he screams, trying to shake me off.
I remove the spoon, and his eye comes too.
Plop .
He’s bellowing with pain, trying to push me back into a wall. Bryton is in the closet with us and trying to help, but he is still blinded by the light bulb’s shards.
I push the spoon into Stephan’s other eye, ignoring the squelch, his wailing, and Bryton’s cursing.
Circle. Saw. Circle. Saw. Pull.
Plop .
Stephan is no longer fighting. He now has the sense to use his hands to protect his face.
He’s too late.
I unlatch myself from his back, yanking the weapon with me, and dodge Bryton’s blind reach, shimmying out of the room.
I lock it behind me.
“You fucking idiot. You thought it was bad before? Just you wait. You won’t ever walk again.” Stephan’s voice is pitched in agony and desperation.
I pay him no mind.
Time to acquire more weapons because this night has only begun .