Chapter 18 Kip
KIP
“I have to go. I have an … appointment,” Death said. “But you two keep digging into Kip’s mother and uncle and how they’re associated with the Pied Piper. I’ll talk to Ella and see if I can get her to fucking talk.”
“She’s scared, Death. Whatever the Pied Piper said to her grabbed her by the fucking throat,” I said, remembering how pale she’d been after the conversation with him a few months ago.
We had someone who the Pied Piper wanted and demanded him back.
In exchange, he allowed us all to live. Not many people rattled any of us, but the Pied Piper was in a league of his own. Powerful. Smart. Deadly.
“And right, there’s the problem. I’m the only man allowed to grab her by the throat. When I find out what he said to her, the motherfucker will never see me coming. Soon, we’ll be rid of him once and for all.”
Death never made promises he couldn’t keep. Not intentionally anyway, and I worried that this might be one of them.
“I’ll be in touch.” He tipped his chin at us before he turned around and left the cabin, the door slamming closed behind him.
Dope blew out a huge breath. “Fuck. Me.” He removed the rolled-up joint from behind his ear and flipped it between his fingers, but he didn’t light up.
“No shit. How the hell are my mother and uncle involved with the Pied Piper?”
“Shit, dude. Even the pastor? That’s some fucked-up shit, right?”
I shrugged. “Look at the people who protect Death; I shouldn’t be surprised by the pastor of the church.”
Dope stretched his legs out in front of him. “You never mentioned your pastor when we were kids. I mean, as you got older, you wore your cross, but I know it’s a blade, so it’s not like it’s for religious reasons.”
I snorted. “I don’t believe in God. Never have.”
“Why? I mean, after today, I have questions. You shared some shit about your childhood, but you’ve been secretive over the years. Now we learn your family is associated with PP. You need to start telling Death and me what’s going on, so we know how to play the motherfucker’s game.”
I bowed my head, the weight of the past clawing at the scars on my back and arms. “You guys know Mother and I aren’t close.”
“I remember that because you were gone a lot, even during school. She always had you helping her with a new church somewhere or Bible camp.”
A low, angry chuckle escaped me. Over the years, whenever my friends had asked about my family and why I never spoke of them, I had rehearsed what I would say when the time came—when I could no longer keep the truth buried, when it became dangerous for them not to know.
But even then, I couldn’t give them everything.
Maybe one day. But not that day. For the time being, I gave them enough to keep us one step ahead of the Pied Piper.
“You guys know Uncle Vinny taught me how to clean. When Mother got sick of seeing my face, she’d send me out on jobs with him. That’s why I was gone.”
Dope’s eyes narrowed while he pursed his lips together in a tight line. “Those skills are invaluable, but I have to admit that learning that trade as a teenager is pretty fucked up. I mean, those years shape us. Look at you now. You’re cleaning and covering up shit for a serial killer.”
The muscles in my jaw jumped. “It does something to your brain … breaking down bodies and cleaning blood and bone. Not much fazes me. For years, I was afraid I couldn’t feel anything like a normal person. Hell, I didn’t want to.” My voice was low, haunted.
“The heroin? Is that how it started?” Dope’s tone was free of judgment, and if we had to have this particular conversation, I appreciated his support.
“Yeah. I don’t even remember the first time. I lived in a haze, wondering what was real or not.”
“Is that another reason you’d disappear when we were in school?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, the phantom pain in my arm toying with me. “At first, it was here and there at night or on the weekend when I didn’t have to be around people, then it got worse. Honestly, there’s not a lot that I remember during those days.” Except her.
“Death and I wondered why you always wore long-sleeved shirts and never went shirtless even when it was a hundred fucking degrees.”
“Just hiding the scars.” My skin jumped with anxiety. There were a few other things I could finally tell Dope. “Mother is a religious fanatic. There were times that she forced me to repent for whatever sin she thought I committed. Other times, I disappeared it was to recover from … repenting.”
Dope grimaced. “Okay. That’s weird shit.”
“Her idea of that wasn’t getting on your knees and praying for forgiveness. I mean, part of it was, but she pushed the boundaries of everything she ever did.” I prepared for Dope’s reaction and then I tugged on the black long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled it over my head.
“This is what I mean.” I stared at Dope for a moment before I slowly turned around and showed him my back.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. No pun intended, but what the fuck?”
I winced. At times Dope had no good way with words and blurted shit out. And here we were.
Irritated I’d shared that with him, I tugged my shirt back on. “The only reason you know about this is because of who she’s friends with. Are we clear? We never talk about it again,” I growled.
Dope raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, but I have questions first. Give me that, man. Your back is scarred like you were in a fire, but not as raised. Did she burn you?” Dope swallowed hard and sank back into his seat.
“Nope. She carved me up with a knife. At one time, the cuts were angel wings, like she thought she could redeem my soul after sending me out to clean crime scenes.”
“That’s some warped shit,” he muttered. “We had no idea you were going through that. Why didn’t you say anything?
We could have helped. Death could have taken care of her back then.
Fuck! No wonder you hate her so much. How do you take care of her now?
I’m surprised you haven’t fucking killed her.
She’s dying anyway. You wouldn’t even have to feel guilty. ”
I glanced away from him, shame ripping through my chest. “Because she was how I scored. At first, she gave me opiates for the pain after she carved me up, then when I was addicted to them, she used them to control me. It was her way to ensure I never told anyone what she was doing.”
Dope’s jaw hit the floor. “Fucking hell, this keeps getting worse. Your own mother got you hooked on heroin?” He slapped his hands over his face and shook his head.
“She’s evil. There’s no other way to say it. She manipulated me, controlled me, made sure I helped my uncle and kept silent about the work.”
“And what did your uncle have to say about her carving you up? He knew, right? Those summers you were gone as soon as school was out …” His expression twisted with pain.
“He never stopped her. Now you know.” Just not everything.
Dope stood and walked over to me. Before I realized what he was doing, he threw his arms around me in a big hug.
“I’m sorry for letting you down, Kip. We were kids so we didn’t know to look for signs of abuse and shit.
That’s no excuse. I’ll do better by you.
You’re my brother. You know I’ll kill for you … even give my life to save yours.”
His words sank in, and I gave him a brotherly hug back. “Same for you, man. You couldn’t have known. We were young, and she was a master at covering it up. So was I.”
Dope released me and stepped back. “Okay.” He rolled his shoulders and then popped his neck. “I need to think in order to figure out how I’m going to look for the connection between the Pied Piper and your mother and uncle … fuckin’ A, man, even the pastor. That doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“I’ll try to think of anything I can remember, but those years are pretty hazy.”
“I need to get back home with all my equipment. I have a feeling this shit is going to be the challenge of my life.” Dope grinned. “I’m ready to take that bitch down. Should we make her suffer more or?”
I gave him a lopsided grin. “She’s dying and struggling to breathe. If we kill her now, we’ll be doing her a favor.”
“Yeah. No. Not fucking helping her.”
Dope collected his computer and shoved it into the laptop bag, and we headed back to the airport where the plane was waiting for us.
Since Dope was deep in research, I turned the stereo on and “my truth’s a lie” by Psylosia played while my brain spun out like a tornado with thoughts of Mother, Uncle Vinny, the Pied Piper, and Holland. Holland.
My dick sprang to life with the recollection of pinning her to the wall, but the goddamn flashbacks had taken over, and for a moment, I hadn’t been able to distinguish between the past and present.
How could she not remember me? Maybe she was the same, her past hazy due to the hell we’d lived through.
Mother’s words stirred inside my gut, followed by a rush of rage.
Anger at Mother and uncle, but even I knew that Mother’s words were always laced with truth and lies.
The problem was which ones? I was finished letting her play me like a goddamn fiddle.
I was going to make sure this shit was going to end … tonight.