Chapter 39
CALISTA
I don’t know when it happened exactly.
The first trickle of blood, maybe. Delicate skin bursting against the seam of a knife, withering beneath the cruelty of a blade.
Or maybe it was the penetration. The degradation of having an intruder inside a too young of body, the rape of a child falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing the girl in the mirror. The flicker of hope in youthful eyes, the foolish belief that someone besides myself was going to save me.
It is always tragic when a little girl is forced to become a woman. But when a woman can no longer stomach the person she’s become...
Well, now that is another tragedy altogether.
“Open your mouth, Harry.” Digging my nails into the side of his jaw, I pry the stubborn man’s mouth open. He gurgles and he cries, two sounds that grow louder when I drag my knife inside his mouth.
And come away with his tongue.
“The next time you disrespect a woman, I want you to think of me.” Breathing into his ear, I flick the piece of flesh onto the forest floor, “The next time you take something that isn’t yours to take, I want you to think of this moment.”
The woman who had been pinned against the trees now lies in pieces. Throat slit, eyes glassy, and dress torn up to her bust, there is nothing but destruction left.
The kind of destruction that deserves to be delivered to its rightful owner.
Filthy fingernails tear at my skin, drawing blood but not digging deep enough to leave a scar. His thumb makes a desperate attempt to gouge my eye out, but a quick twist of my hand has him screaming out in pain. A pain which only gets worse when I throw my body to the ground.
Dislocating his shoulder and removing his thumb with my knife at the same time.
Whirling around, I swing my legs around the man’s waist and trap him in place. Listen to his cries while I remove a few more layers of skin, the amount of flesh that would be similar to the body he left lying in the mud.
The spirit he stole from the woman, the soul he drained from this earth.
By the time I finish, the man lies in just as many pieces. His chest rises and falls with staggered breaths, his days well and truly numbered now that the predators have gotten wind of his torn flesh.
“I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
A promise I leave tucked in his shirt pocket, whispered beneath the relentless press of the pellets raining down on us.
Hunks of flesh and ligaments cling to my blade, the serrated teeth keeping the man’s pride and dignity trapped within. I brush them off and watch them fall back into the mud, back to the filth they belong.
I’m just about to bend down and pick up his lost tongue when a streak of black hits my eye. The familiar sound of my baby tearing through the trees as he fights to find a way to get to me.
“Ronan, I kept you inside for a reason...”
The wrong set of dark eyes meet mine.
Intense and unblinking while water drips from his thick mass of hair and tumbles down his face.
Crystal droplets are wasted on the scruff of his jaw and the soft plush of his lips. The same lips that promised to hold me tight, not knowing the only monster in the room was the one wrapped between his arms.
“I thought someone had taken you.”
A confession that needles its way past my skin and triggers the bruising to settle in.
“I thought you might be hurt. I thought...” He trails off, rainwater streaming past the unformed syllables and shattering against the forest floor.
“You hunt men.”
It’s not a question.
The chasm that has always divided us grows in size. Inhales a gust of air and pushes the extremity of our positions to opposite ends of an uncrossable gorge.
A man and a woman standing ten feet apart.
Ten feet that has never felt quite so far.
“I hunt men.”
Christopher closes his eyes, sealing them to the apology mother nature rains down on him. My unfallen tears drenching his skin until there’s not a piece to be saved.
“They took everything from me.”
It’s not an explanation but it forces my eyes onto the man bleeding out beside me.
“For years, they took until I had nothing left to give.” Raindrops shatter across my cheeks, replacing the tears that ran out years ago, “And then they took some more.”
“All men?”
His voice is hoarse, stripped of any form of protection.
“The ones who hurt women.”
If it was possible for a monster to feel shame, I imagine that is what I would be feeling right now.
“And the men my mother orders me to kill.”
Christopher finally looks away.
Something close to disappointment settles in the empty part of my chest. Too callous and rotten to be of use, I push it aside and return to the job at hand.
“What are you doing.”
A question I ignore, my focus already splintered from the reflection glittering through Christopher’s eyes.
Moving from one broken body to another, I kneel gently beside the dead woman. Too young to be remembered yet too old to be forgotten.
I take the torn parts of her dress and carefully place them back where they belong. My fingers tremble beneath the weight of the grey skies and the tendrils of grief fighting to make their way to the surface.
Matted hair presses stiffly into my chest as I pick her up. Pressing her close to my chest, I carry her from a place of disgrace to one of peace.
“Calista.”
My knees sink into the ground as I lower her onto the riverbank. The current pulls at the mud caked in her hair, cleansing the soiled parts of her body until they are reborn into something beautiful.
Something pure.
I don’t have to look up to know Ronan is standing nearby. I can feel his presence as he can feel mine, the moment of excruciating pain split between two souls.
“You’re safe now.”
Before I can push her into the current, a warm hand covers mine. Fingers that wrap around my own, engulfing the stained skin as though it’s any colour but red.
“Let me help.”
I don’t look at him, but I don’t pull my hand away either.
Pressing our palms to the dead woman’s waist, together we send her off to a better place. One that’s free of the shadows of this town, an escape from the humiliation her final moments conjured.
Christopher sits silently beside me, his pants splattered with mud. He doesn’t say a word as we watch the princess disappear into the valley, down the stream that’s bound to take her somewhere better than here.
“I used to think I was fighting to stay alive.”
My words sound distant, detached, as though they were spoken by someone else a long time ago.
“Each time I made it through the night, I got a reward. A gift to acclaim my survival.” Numb lips press together, unable to form any sort of expression, “The longer I fought, the more I realized I was wrong. It wasn’t the girl who was supposed to survive.”
My eyes drift to where our hands rest intertwined.
Blunt fingernails and vicious talons.
“It was the monster she wanted to create.”
Christopher lets out a breath, a gust of air that gets swept away by the howling wind.
“I guess you win for mummy issues.”
The swell of my lips feel too heavy to curve into a smile, so I just stare ahead. Stare at the water dripping from neighbouring plants into the gushing river.
“Didn’t realize it was a competition.”
Rain continues to pour down on us, slinking over goosebumps and trickling between the joint press of our fingers. The bridge where murky liquid meets clear.
“Where did you learn how to...”
“Kill people?”
Christopher winces, “I was going to phrase it better than that.”
“After the first few visits, I started to fight back.” Tilting my head, I look down at the jagged lines gracing my legs. The scars holding memories that will never be erased.
“Pitiful, weak attempts to hurt the men who were hurting me. Maleficent caught wind of this and promptly hired a trainer. He taught me a mix of martial arts but specialized in Krav Maga.”
“Jesus.”
“She gave me the tools to succeed but only if I was strong enough to use them.”
I press my tongue to my lips, tasting the cold droplets staining them. Numbing them, stripping away any sign of warmth, leaving a girl who is cold inside.
Empty, drained of the capacity to bring light into this world.
“Not all parents deserve their titles.”
Christopher squeezes my hand gently, unexpected understanding flowing between two counterparts.
“You want kids?”
“They’re cute and all but...” Wet hair flings to the side as he shakes his head, “Not for me. Destined to be the fun uncle, you know?”
I force my lips into a smile because I do know.
“That’s what siblings are for.”
“Nah, that’s what my crew is for. Horace wants a boatload of mini clones and I could see Jasper adopting a couple too.” He pauses, thinking it over, “Mae would be a toss-up, to be honest, but I could see you having kids.”
“I can’t have kids.”
“I mean, Wolf Hollow doesn’t seem like the best place to raise a litter but...” His eyes find mine and his voice loses its traction.
Comes to a complete stop as he takes in the creature before him.
“One of the men gave me an infection.” Bitterness laces my tone, the poison that’s been killing me for so long finally spilling over, “Complications led to a partial hysterectomy.”
Pain etches across Christopher’s face, sorrow woven with every line.
“It was the only chance I had at bringing something good into this world.”
A confession that melds with a crack of thunder, a splinter of lightning breaking clear across the sky. A guttural cry that doesn’t make it past my throat but echoes through the forest around us.
“And they stole that from me too.”
“Calista.” Heartache breaks through each syllable, so visceral I can almost convince myself it’s my own, “Darling, I...”
He finds himself with nothing to say because there is nothing left to say.
“We’re not all destined for the light, Devil.” A hitch notches my breath, causing my words to falter, “Some of us are meant to live in the darkness. To bleed in the shadows so no one has to see the mess we leave behind.”
I pull my hand from his grasp and climb to my feet.
Strong, independent and just as alone as I’ll always be.
“You should get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Calista-
“Go home, Devil. Before another predator finds you.”
It’s a warning and an apology. For believing a man like him could ever understand what it’s like to look in the mirror and see a monster.
A nightmare of my mother’s creation.