29. Elijah
“Iknew you would bring her. Tired of her already?” My stepfather questions, and his voice reeks of I told you so.
If only this motherfucker knew what was still to come.
Keeping my tone neutral, “Yup. Got bored of her. I knocked her out before coming. Shes here, leaning against the wall. Where do you want her?”
He clasps his hands together with excitement, “Bring her to the sacrifice table, boy.”
Looking over at it, I nod. As I prop myself up from where I was leaning, his loud voice overtakes the room again, “And take that fucking rabbit mask off. You are being disrespectful towards The Dark One.”
“I don’t think I will.”
Propping my bat over my shoulder, I turn around to walk out when his ego takes over, needing to get the last word. “What is that?”
Stopping in my tracks, I don’t bother to turn and face him. I already know what he is referencing, “A fucking flamethrower. In case a torch goes out.”
He knows it’s a lie, but he isn’t smart enough to put it together himself, so I’m not worried.
“Your snarky attitude will not be tolerated in The Chapel, do you understand me? Now bring her to me.”
It takes every ounce of restraint not to end him now. To watch him bleed out on the ground before me, begging for his worthless life like the vermin he is. But I can’t, he belongs to Rain.
Walking to the hall, her face is turned toward me.
“Did you hear everything?”
She nods.
“Then you know what I need from you? I need you to play dead for me while I carry you over to the table.”
Her head nods again. I am not sure if it is from fear or wanting to remain quiet.
“The element of surprise will catch him off guard. We will use that to our advantage. I believe in you, little bat.”
Not giving her a chance to respond, I wedge my bat under my arm and swoop her in my arms, bridal style. Her arms reach around my neck.
“Little bat, I need you to go limp for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She frantically responds.
“It’s ok, sweet girl.”
Her head falls back over my arm, and then her arms follow. One hangs at her side while the other has fallen over her stomach.
In a hushed whisper, “Good girl. Just like that.”
My breath becomes heavy, and the mask has little to no circulation, which helps make me realize that I need to calm down.
“Boy. What’s taking so long?” A thunderous shout comes from behind me.
Rolling my eyes, I don’t respond.
With Rain in my arms, I make my way back through the arch and into the room. His followers have parted, creating a clear path for us which leads to the infamous table. The table where I killed her mother and many others before. None of which mattered like she does.
Nobody speaks as I walk past them. My boots are crunching against the gravel with each step. My mother and number three have since moved from where they stood, to standing next to the table. Maxton is standing at the head.
The table is bare, no shackles or weapons are in sight. My brows furrow under my mask. He did just as I anticipated. Playing right into the palm of my hand.
Orders have changed, I see.
Reaching the long, dark wooden table, I gently place her down. Her body is still limp, so once shes laid down, I adjust her arms to lay flat next to her and straighten her bare legs.
“I see you dressed her up like you too?”
His question is rhetorical. But that doesn’t stop me, “Naturally.”
“The dagger?”
“The one I used on her mom. Only fitting to use it on her as well.”
“Good job. The Dark One will reward you for this.” His voice promises, even though I know it’s false.
Not moving from her side, I await his next move.
Lowering my bat from under my arm, I grip it tightly in my hand, ready to use.
He turns to face her, raising his hands to her mask. Gripping it at the bottom, he slowly removes it from her face, sliding it up until the strap under her head is freed.
Her eyes are closed, lashes resting on her face as her breath is slow but even. The face cracks are still perfectly in place—my little broken doll, my little bat. So beautiful laying before me.
Her father drops the white rabbit mask to the ground, the plastic makes the crinkling sound as it hits the ground. And for the first time, he sees her for who she is.
Mine.
“Is this your idea of being funny? Bringing her to me, your Master and The Dark One, dressed like this. Wearing this face paint with a fucking collar around her neck? She isn’t your fucking doll, boy.”
Curt in my response, “Am I laughing?”
“You were always fucking sick in the head. This, this is next fucking level from you, boy. To come here, embarrass me, the members of The Chapel like this. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. And your mother will be punished for your insubordinate behavior.”
He threatens me, by using my mother, like it would have an effect on me.
No emotion comes to light with his words.
No panic or pleading for mercy.
My life only holds value for her, Rain.
Unamused by his antics, I step towards him, openly challenging him. A few gasps can be heard from behind me, but I pay them no attention. This isn’t for them. They are as filthy as he is.
“Can we get on with it, already?”
Clearing his throat, again with the fucking old man dramatics, “The Dark One spoke to us before you graced us with your presence. He has saved her. After enabling us with two La Notte del Diavolo this month, he has also gifted us with saving our Principessa Oscura. She will be mine by the end of the night.”
I don’t move.
He is waiting for it. Banking on it. But I let him carry on.
“In her place, The Dark One has requested your mother.”
Of course he did.
A gasp can be heard, my mother.
Smirking under my mask, this is fucking perfect. She was mine anyway. He hasn’t a fucking clue how perfectly this is going for me.
“Boy, wake her up. We have a ceremony and a sacrifice to perform.” His arms rise in the air as he elevates his voice with each word. His followers clap in unison. None of them try to stop this, which only solidifies my plan for later.
Looking toward my mother, she stands there, all shock is washed away as she accepts her fate.
No fighting, no pleading.
We are so similar but also extremely different.
I am not stupid, she is.
Believing The Dark One is fucking real.
Pathetic.
“It is a great honor to be summoned by The Dark One like this.” She says proudly.
Maxton’s head snaps towards her. “Did anyone say you could speak, woman?”
Bowing her head, my mother submits to him.
“Elijah, wake her up. And remove that collar from around her neck. She will no longer be needing it.” He instructs.
Turning my body towards Rain, I lower my head over hers, tilting my head slightly, taking her in one last time before absolute chaos ensues.
I whisper softly, so only she can hear, “Wait for my signal.”
Her eyes are still closed, but she squints them ever so slightly, telling me she understands.
My mother is still standing off to the side, my stepfather has made his way over to her, they are speaking softly to each other, distracted.
His number three remains in place, standing closest to me.
Still bent over, I rotate my head to look at him. My free hand goes to my hip, where my hammer is hanging from my belt.
It’s hard to tell if he has noticed or if he is too focused on my mask and my eyes staring at him. Standing up straight, I close the distance between him and me, pulling the hammer out of my belt. As I pull it up by its steelhead, I slide my hand down the wooden handle. Gripping it tightly, I then use all my momentum, swinging it directly where my eyes are aiming—the side of his thick skull.
Everything moves in slow motion.
My hammer is already propelling towards him before he even notices what is occurring.
As it connects with the side of his head before dropping to the ground. His mouth opens, yelling in pain as his body falls to the ground from the force of the impact.
Time speeds up, and I step over his body which is tossing around below. The hood of his robe has fallen off, while his mask remains. Loud wails of pain leave his mouth. Bending at the waist, I grip my hammer and continue my assault on him.
My movements are rapid, and each time I connect with his head, I come back for more. One after another, I am hyper-focused on this piece of shit. Blood splatters off him, flying up at me and around us each time I strike him. His head bounces against the ground, he is no longer in control. A pool of blood slowly starts to form around his head as well. Pieces of brain matter are getting stuck to the hammer now. My breathing is heavy. Staying bent over and staring at his lifeless body below me, I drop the hammer next to me.
Lifting my foot, I need to make sure he is gone, dead, with no chance of coming back. Where I have bashed his skull in, I place the heel of my boot and step down on him. His skull continues to break, as I feel his head moving down from the pressure I step back, removing my foot from his head. His head is angled up, still laying lifeless before me. I swing my foot and kick his jaw just under his chin. This causes his precious Chapel mask to come flying off. Beneath it, you can see one of his eyes has popped out, blood is coming out of his mouth and nose, and the force of the kick has caused him to bite his tongue off.
“Fuck you, motherfucker. Whos next?”