Chapter 32
AREK
I’d intended to have my man fuck me tonight, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided I didn’t want the distraction of my ass being sore. It’s been a while since I’ve had the satisfaction of killing someone, and I have a feeling that this one is going to be incredibly satisfying.
I’ve spent most of my life confused when people say how upset they are on someone else’s behalf.
It wasn’t until I was sixteen and first witnessed my sister being bullied online in response to her transition journey that I understood their meaning.
There’s a chance that I simply hadn’t looked at her comments before then.
But the fury I felt because someone dared to say nasty things to my sweet, beautiful sister?
Furious didn’t adequately express how I felt.
I demanded that those people be tracked down so I could torture them.
I was relentless in this demand. It didn’t matter to me that they were kids themselves.
If their hate was learned, then give me their parents.
Give me their church’s clergy. Give me their teachers and politicians.
Give me everyone who taught them hate, because they were all going to be punished.
I wasn’t allowed to have everyone, but I was given one specific person. A person with a large, loud following of transphobic content online. An account that had targeted and virtually attacked my sister too many times to count.
I was allowed to torture him until he was nothing more than a bleeding mess on the ground, begging for mercy. I told him he’d better plead to his god for forgiveness for his hate because he was about to face judgment.
His body was never found, and to this day, the occasional post about this missing content creator who spoke out about the ‘unrighteous’ people infecting this society. Yes, I always note the accounts they come from.
Anyway, that was the first time I felt unbridled fury on someone else’s behalf.
The times I’ve felt it since are almost always in response to how someone speaks to Adalaide online.
No one has the balls to do so in person, of course.
The crazy haters of the radical conservatives are largely online warriors.
Meet them in person, and they cower in fear. They don’t like to be challenged.
The anger that’s been simmering just under the surface since Kylen told me about his childhood abuser is larger than I’ve felt in a long time. Adalaide is an adult now. She is capable of defending herself, even if my siblings and I often take out the loudest bullies ourselves.
My anger is for the little boy Kylen was. He had nowhere to go. No one to defend him. My anger is for the man he is now, who still suffers from those experiences. He has a year’s worth of torment and molestation that he carries around with him. He’s carried it for more than a decade. All alone.
He lives every day knowing that his abuser is alive.
She lives in the same town where his family still lives.
That means he could run into her at the market.
At the park. While he’s getting a car wash.
Every single day that he’s home, he risks the fact that he might come face-to-face with her again.
That’s unacceptable.
I wait until it’s just past midnight, lying wide awake in Kylen’s bedroom. The curtains are drawn, but there’s a small light in the corner. A night light. He was horrified when he realized it was on and promised me it’s there just so he can see his way to the bathroom at night.
It’s not unusual for child abuse victims to be afraid of the dark. That same unease has followed Kylen. His bedroom at the frat house is filled with soft light. There are no dark corners.
My watch vibrates on my wrist, and I pull my hand from under the blankets to look at the message.
Orev says that the security at Delores Rowling’s house will be under maintenance and shut down between one and three this morning.
The entire grid in her neighborhood will also suffer a glitch and plunge everyone into darkness for the same two hours, coincidentally.
Likewise, the security in this entire neighborhood will be down for maintenance between twelve-thirty and three-thirty. There will be no record of my leaving and returning. Unless someone is awake and watches me, my brief absence will go unnoticed.
The time is twelve-thirteen.
I kiss the side of Kylen’s head and carefully pull myself free of his sleeping body. For the next few minutes, I tuck him in tightly, making sure he feels safe and secure while he sleeps. More than anything, I hate leaving him.
But he only has this one demon in his past. This one ghost that haunts him. The one torment that will forever make him look over his shoulder.
Once I dispose of the beast in his past, there will be nothing there to visit his nightmares. I’ll never have a reason to leave his side again. He’ll be safe knowing that she’s in the ground where she should be for touching this man without his permission when he was nothing more than a child.
No one is awake in the house as I silently make my way through the first floor and out the front door. I’m not in the least bit surprised to find Kole leaning against the side of my car with her arms crossed over her shoulders.
“I don’t have time for your games,” I tell her, yanking her from my car as I walk by. She stumbles, but when my doors unlock, she practically dives into the passenger seat.
As soon as I’m inside with the door shut, I turn to face her. This is probably the first time I’ve seen Kole back away from me. She presses her back against the door and stares with wide eyes.
“I’m coming with you,” she insists.
“No. I don’t have—”
“I didn’t know,” she says, and I’m a little startled to see tears instantly falling down her cheeks. She swallows thickly. “I haven’t stopped hating myself since… you told me. But I know now, and I want to be a part of the punishment.”
I stare into her face for several heartbeats, but I’m on a timeline, and I don’t have minutes to spare. Without another word, I start my car and quickly back out of the driveway, keeping my lights off until we’re out of the cul-de-sac completely.
“He was quiet that school year. Withdrawn. He wanted to be alone, and I just thought… you know, girls have cooties and whatever. When we were older, and I realized he wasn’t into girls, I thought maybe he was realizing it when we were ten, you know?
Maybe he was coming to terms with it. Maybe I did notice, but Kylen shut me out and I…
I didn’t know that I should have pushed more.
I was a kid, too, Arek. I didn’t know that he was being hurt. ”
“Your parents? Were they kids, too?” I ask.
“No, of course not. I can’t speak to why they didn’t know. They’re good parents. I promise. They’d be absolutely stricken if they find out now.”
They’re going to find out. Everyone will know this sick woman’s transgressions. I’ll make sure of it.
Kole continues to babble as I drive into a deserted parking lot and park in the deep shadows.
This is one of those old strip malls, popular in days long gone by.
There’s a large sign over the side, one corner falling.
The sign itself is faded. I can make out the words ‘COMING SOON,’ but whatever was coming is hidden by the folded vinyl.
There are large FOR LEASE signs at all the entrances. I watch the building as I strip out of the clothes I’m wearing, right down to my underwear. There are signs that the building is already on its path to decay. Soon, it won’t be something that can be saved.
Kole watches me with confusion as I rearrange the boxes in my trunk until I find the one I want. From inside, I pull out the black suit to cover myself nearly completely. I leave my phone behind but stick the key fob to my car into the single, tiny pocket and lock it inside.
Last, I have my knife. I love my knife and probably pet it a little unsettlingly. As if it were a cute little purring kitten.
“I thought those boxes were Christmas gifts for Kylen,” Kole says quietly.
“Most of them are,” I answer, shutting my trunk. “Some are for my sister. I don’t send them home because she’s nosy AF and would ruin the surprise.”
“Hers are the only ones you send to yourself at school?” she asks as I close the trunk.
“Yes. Pull your hood up. You didn’t dress for this.”
“I didn’t know what you were planning to do.”
“That’s because you don’t belong here.” I face her.
“I’m going to kill her. First, I’m going to torture her and make her beg for her life.
I’m going to watch her suffer for hurting Kylen.
While she’s still alive, I’m going to carve her transgressions into her skin.
Then I’m going to watch her die. Is that something you want to see? ”
Kole swallows, but she squares her shoulders. “I’m sure he’s not the only one she’s hurt.”
I turn and head down the street. “I don’t give a fuck about anyone other than Kylen. She could have hurt a hundred kids, but the only one I care about is Kylen.”
“I guessed as much.”
We stop just outside the neighborhood in a little patch of trees as I wait for the time to hit one. I wait for Orev’s text to come through over my watch.
“You’ve done this before,” Kole says quietly.
“I have a transgender sister,” I remind her.
“Two dozen years ago, we had a clown in office who left a legacy of normalizing hate and bullying around the world, especially toward the tiny 1% of the population that my sister resides in. I’ve spent a lot of years killing people who hurt people like my sister.
It’s not enough to change the rhetoric in the world, but it’s one more voice that isn’t throwing daggers at my sister while she’s simply trying to live her life. ”
“I want to say that’s noble, but I have a feeling your reasons are selfish.”
Orev’s text comes through, so I don’t respond.
We walk silently through the neighborhood and up the path to Delores Rowling’s front door.
It’s unlocked. That’s part of the problem with everything being controlled electronically.
There are crazy fuckers like my brother who can trip the lock and let more crazy fuckers like me inside.
Kole remains silent as I move through the house like I’ve been here before.
I haven’t been. But when the target is personal like this, we conduct research.
I know where all the cameras are in the neighborhood, as well as throughout my target’s house.
I know the layout from construction blueprints and remodel drawings.
She lives alone, though her body will be found early in the morning.
Orev has been tracking her calls and watching her texts.
Her brother will be here for breakfast. She’s supposed to accompany him to their elderly parents’ nursing home that afternoon for an early holiday dinner before heading to midnight mass as a family.
How unsurprising.
As soon as I open the bedroom door, her eyes open and she tries to get away. My hand fits around her neck easily enough, and I choke off her scream. Before I can do anything more than haul her out of bed, Kole has punched her in the nose, and blood gets everywhere.
I release a heavy sigh. “You are wearing your street clothes,” I remind her.
“I’ll go home naked,” Kole says and punches her again.
I let her. For several minutes, I watch Kole punch this woman until her knuckles have broken open, and I physically have to pull her off. “You can’t contaminate her with your own blood. You need to plan better.”
I hand her my knife and take a step back. There’s an unexpected amount of satisfaction in watching her tear this woman apart. I should tell her to stop crying. Stop screaming at the woman. The neighbors will hear.
But Kole’s display of anger and despair is something I can feel in my chest. It’s loud. Greedy. Determined. Filled with anguish that I only partially understand.
She’s surprisingly brutal. Coming from someone as small as Kole, it’s a little entertaining as well.
I let her have her fill until the woman is barely living. Then I pull her back and have to keep her in a bear hug until she calms down.
“Don’t touch anything,” I tell Kole as I take the knife in my gloved hand. “My turn.”
Delores Rowling is barely breathing, which is far less lucid than I hoped she’d be while I carved into her skin. Across her face, I scratch CHILD RAPIST. Across her chest, I dig in CHILD MOLESTER. And across her stomach, I slice CHILD ABUSER.
Finally, I take a step back to make sure each letter is legible.
Kole takes the knife from my hand and shoves it through the woman’s throat.
I frown. “That’s far quicker than I wanted her to die.”
“I’m impatient. She should have died eleven years ago.”
There are still tears sliding down her face. We remain where we are long enough to ensure she’s dead. There’s no coming back from this.
I examine Kole as I drag her toward the front door and back toward the trees. She’s covered in blood. She really is going to need to go back inside naked.
When we’re just beyond my car, I tell her, “Take your clothes off. No blood in my car.”
Kole doesn’t argue as she strips down. I take her clothes in my gloved hand and deposit them in the plastic bag inside the box where I got my clothes. Her hands have blood on them. Her face does too.
I dial my brother on my watch. His voice is a little distorted through the watch speaker.
“I need a water source that’s unmonitored right now. Preferably within walking distance.”
“What did you do?” he asks.
“Less than I wanted to do,” I admit, frowning at Kole. “Someone needs some lessons in the proper way to murder someone and not bring the evidence home with them.”
Orev doesn’t respond for a minute. “That’s… unwise.”
“Yes, well. I was running low on time and didn’t want to miss my window. She’s dead, and the world will know why soon. The outcome is what I intended, at any rate.”
“The mall parking lot has a spigot down by the old Ames building. It’s a ways away, but as close as I can get you,” Orev says.
“Fine. I’ll text you when we’re home.”
The call ends without an answer.
“It sounds like you’re talking to yourself,” Kole says, eyes trained on my watch.
“We’re identical except for a stupid scar on his jaw.
That includes our voices. Let’s go.” I’m going to need to put her in the nipple dress I got for my sister, just so she’s not naked in my car.
That’s a little too much Kole for me to be close to.
Besides, she’ll be soaked. I also don’t want my car puddled with water and have to find a reason to explain it away.
I’m sure Rosalie will understand the need to sacrifice one of her gifts.
I’ll make sure she still gets a nipple dress before the holiday is over.