Chapter 8
Eight
Clara
As I walk alone along the sidewalk to the house, my stomach twists and turns, and bile rises in my throat. Nerves threaten to destroy my digestive system, but I inhale through my nose and exhale, trying to soothe them.
I need to do this to clear the path for my future.
Once I reach the decrepit bungalow, I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high. Paint is peeling after years of neglect, and as much as I would rather run away and hide in Burke’s arms, this monster has to meet his karma.
The yard is overgrown, and the cement squares that part the grass are cracked in different spots. Memories flash before my eyes, spinning like a film reel, but I am certain I can’t simmer in the pot of the past if I want my revenge.
Andrew took everything from me—my innocence, my family—and showed me love was only something used to control people. It’s his time to pay his debts for taking so much from a child.
Not only that, but paving my future to make abuse look like love, that I’m only as good as I can provide and no one will ever love me for who I am.
The creak of the door brings me out of the past. I walk up the cement steps, swallowing all the sorrow and conjuring the pain that has followed me for years.
“Who knew I didn’t have to go out looking for my Kitty Cat? She came crawling home for me, just like I knew she would.” His gleeful tone raises the hairs on the nape of my neck, and tension wraps around my chest like a vice grip.
“Andrew, you need to leave me alone.” I know the words are futile—he’ll hide in every shadow until I can fix the holes he left in my soul.
He’s lurked for years, even after he kicked me out when I refused to be what he wanted me to be. There was always a sense of being watched, and I’ll be grateful to extinguish the tie with him.
“Ah, where would the fun in that be? I’ve been watching you. I’m the only one who knows you best.” The stale smell of alcohol circles him, and once I’m inside the entrance, the scent of musty air and rancid food attacks me.
My gaze falls upon the threadbare carpet, its stains deep like old wounds, and then to the sagging couch.
“You don’t know me anymore.” My heart races as he slams the door. The house is closing in on me as I lean against the wall. I’d love nothing more than to tie him down and set everything on fire, roasting marshmallows on the flaming decay. However, getting in and out is my only goal.
“Kitty Cat, I’ve explored every inch of you, inside and out. You can’t say I don’t know you when I was the first one to learn everything about you.” Yellow teeth stretch into a smile, and he advances, reaching for me.
Before his tainted fingers touch my shoulder, I kick out and hit his bad knee. He stumbles back into the wooden cupboard, covered in years of dust and sentimental ornaments from a time that has long since died.
“Oh, you want to play? I can do all the games you want. In the end, you’re always going to be mine.” Spittle flies out of his mouth, his face turning a shade of red as he staggers.
A quick glance shows me his hoarding has worsened over the years, making it easier for me to decide what to do next.
When he limps toward me, I bring my knee up to connect with his testicles, but he covers them. I push a kick into his bad knee again, and he falls to the ground.
I walk past the many stacks of newspapers and grab the bundles of cords, tying his feet together. As his hand snakes around my ankle like my nightmares, I stomp my other heel into his wrist.
He grabs his arm and wiggles on the floor. Spitting at me, he yells, “Fucking bitch, you can’t do this.”
A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. The darkness deep within me is screaming to be let free, and although we both won’t enjoy it, I’ll be able to embrace it with the desire to serve the revenge he deserves.
I jump away from his form on the carpet and glance around the room before observing his old chair.
The memories embedded in the fabric should be destroyed like the rest of the house, but I focus on the task at hand. He won’t stay down long, and I step around the piles for something else to tie him with.
A creaking noise steals my attention, and as Burke walks into the house, he seems so out of place.
My past mixing with my future isn’t a feeling I thought I would ever face.
“Want me to move him closer to the living room?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I say before weaving through the maze of boxes and into the kitchen. I collect scissors, a knife, and the rolling pin. It has hung on the wall for so long that the paint underneath is now a different colour.
When I return to the living room, he’s tied to the foot of his chair and Burke is standing back.
“Who the fuck is this? Kitty Cat, you won’t get away with this. People will notice I’m missing and then you’ll be locked up in a cell. I’ll always know where you are.”
His words give me pause, until I remember the years he spent tearing me apart and how he never served a day of time for the little girl he killed within me.
I use the scissors to cut off his pants. The stench hits me first, the sour smell of unwashed skin wafting up and hovering in the air, forcing me to breathe out of my mouth.
He has always been disgusting, but the years haven’t been good to him. With that sentiment, I find a moment of peace.
“Wanna give your new boyfriend a show? I’m sure I can get it nice and hard like you loved.” Andrew laughs.
I use the knife to stab his side. A stain blossoms on his plaid shirt as the blood seeps through, and a low groan escapes his lips.
With each twist of the knife, I can feel the resistance as the muscle and fat separate beneath the skin.
Thick crimson pools beneath my fingers, slick and warm against my skin.
Fueling my bloodlust as I claim his life will be the toll he pays for what he did to me. Rolling him onto his stomach takes more effort, but I refuse Burke’s help. This is something I have to do all on my own.
With the knife, I cut open the back of his shirt and carve along his flesh. His screams echo through the living room like a song I’ve been craving for the entirety of my life.
I’m feeding the true side of myself. He needs to feel the anguish I’ve had to live with and the scars he’s left against my soul.
Wanting his pain to be more than he ever gave to me won’t be something I can provide. I want revenge, I’m not a sick sadist like he is—there is a vast difference between the two.
Picking up the rolling pin he used to hit me countless times, I slide it through the blood on his back and into his asshole.
I think about telling him it won’t hurt like he did for me, but why lie? I get the handle in, but I can’t fit anymore. No matter how hard I push, it won’t go further.
Frustration runs through my veins. I have had stomach problems my entire life because of what he did to me, and I refuse to leave without having this exact revenge.
The scar tissue he left within my bowels has caused me so much pain, and living a life where I can’t use the bathroom without pills is something I never wanted to face. He must feel what he did to me, because otherwise I will never feel sane again.
I use the knife to cut his hole bigger and jam the rolling pin as far as it will go. The rough wood texture should cause an agony like the nights he shoved into me.
Andrew’s guttural screams and groans fill the space over the squelching sound the rolling pin is making in him.
His breathing is much slower, and I didn’t think of how I promised Burke his final breath. Ryan was a slow process, and I got carried away here.
I let go and fall back on my heels, glancing at the well-deserved desecration of his body. For once in my life, I can finally take a full breath.
Burke steps forward and kicks him onto his back. He steps over the body and kisses my forehead, wiping the sweaty hair from my face. “You did good, Dragonfly.”
Andrew turns his head, blood pouring over his teeth and chin. He grins like this is a game he’s in control of and wheezes out, “Dragonfly, eh? Didn’t you know she’s a kitty cat, but not just any kind of feline—a fucking scaredy cat.”
“I believe Clara is quite brave,” Burke says. “She survived you and served up revenge. That in itself is more courage than you could muster up your entire life.”
Andrew directs his glassy gaze from Burke to me. “I took your innocence. Everything I could, I stole from you. I gave you enough scar tissue that you’ll never be able to forget me.” His breath is shaky as he whispers out the truth.
His words hit me like a sack of bricks, as if I could escape his actions from the past and move forward in a world without my history following me.
I will always be the abused girl, the one with more trauma than everyone else. The horrors of my past make me who I am, but at the same time follow me forever.
“Scar tissue tells a story—a woman who’s overcome so much and now never has to worry again.
She can stand on her own two feet to fight the demons in the real world and the ones in her own head.
Not only will she never have to worry about pieces of shit like you again, because I’ll never leave her side, but I’ll also show her what true love looks like and how she should’ve always been treated. ”
“I had her first,” Andrew gasps.
I get up and step forward, but Burke stops me. He takes the knife from my hand and lowers his head to kiss me. “He’s mine now.”
Digesting his words, I step back and think about what he said. I cannot believe he would be willing to take me, damaged as I am, and show me what real love looks like. Hell, I would never be able to understand why I was chosen to receive everything I did.
Andrew might think he’s the one who had me first, but it doesn’t matter who was first. The only thing that matters in life is who will have you forever. To be the rock needed to help you put your pieces back together, and someone to depend on to be there during the highs and the lows.