28. Wrenley
“Did you really come to avenge me, Turtle Dove?” I ask before downing the last of my bottled water.
Whatever my mother drugged me with has my head pounding, and my body still feels weird, like I’m wearing someone else’s skin. I vaguely remember her dragging me into my old bedroom, lifting me onto my bed. I fought the effects as hard as I could but ultimately lost the battle.
Until I heard Dove’s voice.
Like a shimmering light in the haze, her bubbly tone gave me the strength to push against the murky waters trying to keep me under.
I’ve never felt the type of panic I did when I realized Dove was really here, in California—in my mother’s house, talking to her.
“Of course I did, Songbi?— ”
Mother’s low growl cuts her off. Dove’s hand flies out, backhanding her across the face before she resumes shackling her in the chains we found next to an old toolbox. “Hey! What did I tell you? Shut it.”
Dove stands, dusting off her hands, surveying her work before turning to the other things we found. “I’m a thousand percent sure this house belonged to a serial killer before you lived here. Or she’s picked up some new, untoward tendencies because this looks like a serial killer starter kit.”
Besides the chains—which have locks—and the toolbox, there’s a tarp, rope, and a crowbar. Either Dove is right, or my mother had a hobby I never knew about. A surge of anger splinters through my chest at the thought.
“Did you hurt anyone else?” The question is for my mother, though I step to where Dove stands and pick up the crowbar.
Like I told her earlier, having Dove with me makes me feel invincible. Alone, I panicked, drowning in the past. But this woman flew across the country to confront my demons for me, and that gives me a renewed sense of purpose.
I can do this.
“You don’t have to do this, Wren,” Dove whispers. “You can say what you need to say and walk away and never look back. You can let me handle it. Or, if you want her to live—and I won’t judge if that’s what you want—we can leave together.”
“Listen to her, Wrenley, baby. You don’t have to do this.” Mother’s syrupy lilt makes my skin crawl.
Dove turns, ready to shut her up again, but my body moves first. With a roar, I pivot and stride forward, bringing the crowbar down on one of her restrained hands. She shrieks as her skin splits, blood spilling down her fingers, splattering as I strike again. This time, I hear the crunch of knuckles beneath the steel.
“Did you hurt anyone else?” I yell into her tear-streaked face, shaking with rage.
“Wren! Baby, stop!” Dove grabs my elbow, tugging on it before I can strike again. “You’re going to give yourself a head rush! And I haven’t put down a tarp yet! Do you know how hard blood is to get out of concrete?” She steps on my foot to try and gain leverage, trying to pry my arm down.
“I didn’t touch anyone else, I swear! You’re my only special boy!”
Her words make me impossibly furious.
After all those years of feeling so hopeless, I finally hold the power.
Dove is wrong.
I am a killer.
Shaking her off, I bash my mother’s other hand where it’s chained to the arm of the chair. “You were supposed to protect me!”
Bits of bone and splattered blood fly through the air.
Dove barely registers above Mother’s screams. “Oh, this is going to be a fucking mess to clean, but go on, Songbird. Have at it.”
A sickening squelch fills the basement as I reduce her hands to bloody, meaty stumps. “You should have kept me safe! You should have loved me like a mother is supposed to!”
“Peroxide. Maybe she has some peroxide,” Dove mutters, heading upstairs.
“Why did you do it?” My voice cracks. Vulnerable. Tears flood my eyes. “Why did you hurt me?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, my sweet boy.” Her voice is weak, her ashen skin glistening with sweat. “Mommy just loves you so much. I wanted you all to myself. I thought if I made you feel good, you’d stay with me forever.”
She sounds so earnest, like she genuinely still believes what she did was okay.
Dove reappears as my tears fall. Her soothing hand slides up my back, then down again, trying her best to comfort me. “He would have been yours forever if you’d just acted like a sane mother.” Her voice is thick with emotion, and I don’t have to look at her to know she’s crying. I can hear the pain in her voice as she speaks. “Adults who prey on children are the worst kind of predators. You deserve what you’re about to get, Robyn.”
Mother fixes Dove with a scowl that distorts her face into something monstrous. “You little bitch. Do you think you’ve won? Don’t you think it’s funny that he chose you when you look exactly like me ?” Her laughter is manic. “He’ll see me every time he looks at you, little girl. Every time you fuck, he’ll be thinking of me .”
Dove stiffens beside me momentarily. Just the thought of my mother’s words getting to her, especially knowing that Dove is aware that I did see my mother when I looked at her at first, is enough to send me into another blind rage.
I can’t bear the thought of Dove having to think that. Ever.
“When I look at her, all I see is a woman you could only dream of being. The woman I fucking love!”
Dove jumps back as I bring the crowbar down on my mother’s face in rapid succession like I’m fighting for my life.
And, in a way, I am.
Fighting for my lost innocence.
For the childhood she stole.
For a future free of her sins .
Her jaw unhinges, dripping blood as it dangles grotesquely, like something you’d see in a horror film. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or if it’s because I want this monster dead, but my stomach doesn’t churn. Instead, my insides are steel as I swing the crowbar like a baseball bat. The force of the blow knocks over the chair, and she hits the concrete with a wet thud and a crunch as her skull explodes.
Blood pools through the sweaty, sticky locks falling from her ponytail. Her body convulses as it bubbles in her throat, spilling from the space where her jaw was, desperate whimpers of pain escaping the open cavity in a wheezy song of death.
Dove crouches, smiling at Mother’s rolling eyeball. “Don’t worry,” she coos. “I’ll take great care of him.”
Seconds later, Robyn Campbell dies the gruesome death she deserves.
The adrenaline fades, and my stomach turns. I stagger away, vomiting pink bile onto the concrete.
Dove’s hands rub my back. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”
When I finish, I wipe my mouth and pick her up, burying my face in her neck as I carry her upstairs. She clings to me like a koala, whispering soothing things into my ear, like how I’m safe now and how she’s never going to leave me.
I’m covered in blood and bits of body parts I don’t want to think about. When I set Dove down, I see it’s on her too. I strip her down, motioning for her to get into my bed before undressing and joining her. She lets me intertwine our limbs as we lie on our sides, staring at each other as the time passes. She knows this is what I need—to surround myself with her presence.
Eventually, I ask, “Does killing her make me a monster?”
Dove smiles somberly. “Do you think I’m a monster, Wren?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re the strongest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You gave me the strength to face her. I don’t think I could have done it without you by my side. You make me a stronger man, Dove.”
I draw her impossibly closer, gently cupping her cheek to tilt her head, my lips desperate for hers. “I’m in awe of every part of you, and it terrifies me how much I want to claim all of you—all your strength, your love, your demons.” I punctuate each point with another kiss, pouring everything I feel into my touch. “I never want to be without you again. You make me whole, and I love you so damn much I’m scared it’s going to drive you away.”
“You could never drive me away, Songbird.” She smiles, her tears mingling with our lips, the salty taste peppering her words. “I love you so incredibly much, Wrenley Campbell. I never imagined feeling this intensely for anyone, but I promise you have me—body, heart, and soul. No matter what our past holds, our future is together. Okay?”
“Okay, Turtle Dove.”
“You know turtle doves mate for life, right?” she asks with a wolfish grin. “That means you’re stuck with my pretty, pink palette until the end of time. How do you feel about a pink suit for work?”
Chuckling, I nudge her nose. “Mating for life, I’m okay with. A pink suit? Never gonna happen.”
Dove
A loud grumble from my stomach signals my need for the bathroom again. “Okay, usually my stomach is much stronger than this. I’m blaming it on the In-N-Out, Songbird. It wasn’t that great, by the way.”
Wren finishes tying off his side of the rope securing the tarp we wrapped Robyn’s body in, then shoots me a look of sheer betrayal. “You went without me? I told you I wanted to take you for your first time!”
His pout is adorable, and now I feel absolutely awful for telling him I went. “We can go again? After we dump this in the giant-ass woods and get cleaned up. Maybe I just ordered wrong?” I offer with a weak shrug.
It took over two hours to clean up his mess. Thank god Robyn had a Costco-sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and the blood was fresh enough to scrub away without too much trouble. Now, all that’s left is waiting for nightfall before we haul her out to the deep, dark Redwoods.
By the time anyone finds her, the animals will have picked her clean. She may be well-liked in the community, but Wren says it’s the kind of town where no one asks questions and everyone has secrets.
At his silence, I shift from my crouch at the end of the tarp and sink to my knees beside him. “Are you okay?”
He nods, pulling me into his arms, crushing me against his chest. “You can’t imagine the terror I felt when I thought she hurt you.”
“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m alright.” I repeat the words as he holds me close. It’s been like this since we left his bed—Wren needing to see me, touch me, hold me, just to remind himself that I’m here, that I’m real.
I’ve never felt fear while doing what I do. Murdering vile men has always been something I feel so passionately about that the adrenaline makes me strong enough to outsmart my victims.
But now, I understand. The sheer panic when I realized it was him, not a dog, making those sounds—it made me sick. I’d never been so scared for someone else in my life. I thought she’d hurt him, and I was going to make her death a long, excruciating one if Wren had let me.
As it is, I worry this will haunt him. That Robyn has found another way to scar my songbird—to leave her mark on his soul.
“I love you, Dove,” Wren says, as if he can hear where my thoughts are spiraling. He pulls back, tilting my head up so our eyes meet, his thumbs brushing softly over my cheeks. “ You . I only see you, baby.”
There isn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation in his gaze. I smile and pull him to me, sealing our lips together after I whisper, “I know, Songbird. I know.”