Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I float inside my head. Will I find peace?
Is it over? This whole torture experience has been kind of cathartic.
I guess there’s nothing like a hellhound torturing you to find out what you’re truly made of.
A genuine fucked-up horrific experience of self-reflection.
It feels as though I have lived a hundred different lifetimes with John—each one violent and bloody.
I guess that is what terror and pain do to you—fast-track your soul.
Helping the pup has settled and redeemed something inside of me. For as long as I can remember, a rotten part of me has taunted, cajoled, whispered that when it came down to it, I would be exactly like her.
My mother.
Proud to say I’m nothing like you, Mum.
Ha, it always comes down to your parents in the end, doesn’t it? Her lack of affection, lack of closeness, her poorly concealed hate, put a shadow over me. I was five when my mum sold me to a demon so she could jump the queue to become a vampire.
I forgive you, Mum.
“Emma, don’t fall asleep.” His voice…soothing and agonised.
I hate you, Mum.
“Emma, don’t you fucking dare.”
I love you, Mum.
“She is not healing. We need to get her to a hospital.”
I don’t regret helping you, pup.