Chapter 59
59
I lift the axe above my head and heave it straight for the padlock. It breaks without resistance, clattering heavily onto the ground.
Inside her bungalow, I’m greeted by the pungent smell of sweat and piss. “Iz?”
A moan.
“Iz!”
Her wrists are tied to the bed frame, mouth taped over. “Holy shit.” What the fuck did they do to her? I rip the tape off. “Are you okay?”
She screams when she sees the axe, closing her eyes tight as if I’m about to kill her. I set the axe on the ground. “It’s me. I’m here to help you.”
She slowly blinks her eyes open, squints. “C-Chloe?”
Being called my twin’s name confuses me for a moment. I forgot she doesn’t know my secret.
“Y-yeah.” I untie her wrists, which are knotted with, of all things, Hermès silk scarves. What is wrong with these people?
“W-water,” she rasps. I run to the bathroom and fill her a glass. She chugs it.
I wipe off her sweat with a scarf. “What happened to you?”
She shakes her head, palming her chest like she’s about to cry. I urgently want an answer, but I give her space to collect her breath. I turn on the bedside lamp, illuminating the haggardness of her face. Her eyes are red and wet, lips cracking, bleeding. She’s sweaty, drenched in her own oil and crusted spit. Her usual bouncy curls have matted into a firm ball at the side of her head.
“It all happened so fast,” she finally begins, voice hoarse. “After that lunch, I couldn’t bear being around you all, so I used the landline to connect with my daughters for dinner. By the time I finished my call, I’d cooled down, so I thought about joining you guys. There was even a stupid part of me that convinced myself I’d overreacted. B-but then I saw you all and…” She shakes her head. “It… didn’t feel right. You guys were dancing and singing but the closer I got, the more it felt… off. The energy was just… it was like you were coked-up zombies or something. And the giggles! God, you were all giggling like you were stoned out of your minds, while the servants were standing there, staring at you like you were zoo animals. It was so fucking creepy.”
I smooth a palm over my forehead. Is that how it seemed from the outside?
“The whole vibe was off, so I ditched and went to hide out in my room.” She turns to me. “But then I heard you screaming a few hours after.”
“Me?”
She nods. “When I went to check on you, your door was locked, so I went around the back and peered through the slats in the french doors. That’s when I saw all the girls surrounding you on the bed. You were screaming and crying and they were chanting something like—” She glances up at me.
My mouth dries. “Like what?”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, out of nowhere, two dudes tackle me to the ground. I scream for help, but someone puts their hands over my mouth.”
So the person screaming that night was Iz.
My chest burns with regret. While Iz was crying out for help, I let myself be cooed into complacency. I sat back and watched the girls debase her at lunch. I gloated as they compared us at dinner. What the hell is wrong with me?
“The next thing I know, they hauled me back here, tied me down, and taped my mouth shut.” Her voice is rich with vitriol. And it’s justified.
I think of the markings by my bedpost. How long has this been going on? How many others were treated this way? And the Belladonnas, they’re all complicit in these horrible machinations. I can’t believe I wanted to be them—that for a moment, I was one of them. I can’t believe we were prancing and singing about how we’re all oh so happy when they literally imprisoned Iz. None of them felt guilt. Not even a smidge of remorse or empathy.
What the hell is wrong with them?
And how much longer will they get away with this shit if someone doesn’t put an end to it?
Earlier tonight, I wasn’t sure if I was going to finish what flashed in my mind. The idea of sacrificing seven human beings is twisted, an act that should never be realized. But it’s dawning on me: if I don’t do it, there’s no clean escape. Even if I somehow get off this island, as long as the Belladonnas are alive, they will continue to enact whatever psycho cult bullshit they deem necessary. Worse yet, once it becomes obvious that I’ve defected, that I no longer want to be us , be family, they will come after me. If Iz was imprisoned in response to screaming for help, what awful nightmares would they wreak upon someone who betrayed them?
I can’t sit around and twiddle my thumbs, hoping for things to be okay. If I don’t finish this, it will drag into the outside world and the Belladonnas will never meet justice. I’m sure of it. With how much power the Melniburgs have, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone on the Supreme Court also danced with their devil—hell, even a president or two. I can’t wait for the system to serve justice because justice doesn’t pertain to people like the Melniburgs. I need to do it myself while I have the upper hand. While no one is expecting it. While Eto—whether it exists or not—is on my side.
It needs to end right here. Right now.
“I’m so sorry, Iz. I’m sorry I didn’t come and help you. I think they drugged me or tried to mind-control me or something. I wasn’t acting right—wasn’t thinking right. It wasn’t until they made me eat a mouse—”
She grimaces. “A what now?”
“It’s a long story. But I eventually snapped out of it.” I tell her about what happened to Angelique, what I learned about Eto.
“You didn’t offer anything, did you?” she asks.
I ignore her question. “Look, we don’t have time to waste. I drugged the girls, so they won’t wake up for a while. We have to act fast. Do you have your lighter on you?”
She staggers to her suitcase and unzips the lighter from the front compartment. The gold catches the moonlight.
I take it from her. “I know you’re probably starving and sick to your stomach, but I need your help. Those girls—” I swallow. What if she thinks I’m taking it too far?
Abruptly, she stands. “Tell me what to do.”
Thank god.