Chapter 22 #2
“You were sleeping. I was agitated. I didn’t like how he talked to you, and then he was being pretty aggressive with that other guy. I know his type. I’ve seen it a thousand times. His attitude proved me right.”
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I search for the appropriate reaction. I should be repulsed or scared or something, but instead… I kind of get it.
“That was sloppy of me. Normally, I watch an abuser for weeks or months before I make a move. I didn’t know he was a high-profile person, but fortunately, the fake suicide fits with his current situation, so the police closed the case.
Then I found myself in a small town in Minnesota, planning to take out someone in broad daylight in a town where everybody notices everything.
Thank fuck I came to my senses before I did something reckless. ”
“You found him?”
Vanian nods. “It was easy. He’s a member of a prominent family in town.” He wrings his hands together. “So I let it go, but it’ll be on my mind for a long time. He got away with it, and that’s not okay with me.”
We sit in silence as several minutes pass. I have no idea what to say. I’m not nearly as freaked out as I should be. Is it because I know Van’s heart? Or is it because, in spite of what he’s telling me, his passion for helping kids, even in the extreme, is really fucking hot?
“Balt suspects something,” he says after a bit. “He stares at me like he’s trying to crack a code.”
“I noticed.”
“It’s not unfriendly, but it’s like he knows I’m hiding something.”
“Yeah. His past is a little mysterious too.”
Vanian nods. “I would never hurt you, or anyone innocent. You know that, right?”
“Of course.”
“And it’s not like I do things based on suspicions. It’s all vetted and proven. Even when they lie and get off somehow, the evidence was there.”
“I understand.”
“You must think I’m a monster. Maybe I am, but those victims, those kids, they need someone to protect them, and very often there’s no one to help.
Their voices are silenced, their pain ignored.
They sit in therapy sessions, crying, shaking, afraid of life, and it feels like the least I can do is slay their monsters for them. ”
“It’s a lot to process. I’ve never met someone who…”
“That you know of.”
“True.”
“Are you disgusted with me?”
“No. I’m not sure what I feel, but it isn’t that.”
We both fall silent again until a new question bubbles up.
“What’s your long-term plan? Are you gonna keep doing this until you get old or caught or stop caring?”
“I haven’t considered a long-term plan. I guess I thought maybe eventually the urge would die down or the system would get better.
It’s fucking frustrating, Nan. I spend so much time with these kids, trying to heal their wounds, but you can’t heal a wound like that.
You can bandage it, maybe even put some stitches in, but it will affect them for the rest of their lives, in every single relationship—friends, romantic, authority, all of it.
I can listen and I can care, but I can’t heal them.
I can get them functioning again, but I can’t make it like it never happened.
Most of them will have problems later in life.
They’ll unknowingly seek out abusive relationships, or choose people who feel familiar, even when that’s bad.
They might develop substance abuse problems or have trouble with intimacy.
Some will persevere. They’ll go on to lead productive lives, and on the outside they’ll look fine.
But the wound is always there. It’s always fucking there. ”
“I know.”
“I’m tired,” he admits. “Tired of pouring into the cracked vases only for them to be broken by the system. Do you know what happens when a child is abused by their foster parent?”
I nod. “Yes. They get removed from the home.”
“And then? Back into the system to try again. Maybe they’ll get a nice safe home next time, but maybe they won’t. Maybe it’ll be worse. It’s anyone’s guess.”
“I know. It’s shitty, but is this the answer?”
“Can you think of a better one?”
I open my mouth but fall silent. Relying on the system is how he ended up here.
“Have you considered…” I pause, hesitating to say what I’m about to, but I push through. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in this profession anymore?”
His jaw ticks. “I’ve thought about it. I wouldn’t know as much as I do, but then what?”
“You find something else. Some other way to live. You’ve been lucky up to now. You could quit while you’re ahead.”
He nods, staring off into the distance.
“Maybe you could volunteer for victims, or something where you would be less intimately involved.” I finally reach out and put my hand over his, and he meets my eyes.
“You can’t keep doing this. Even if you get away with it legally, it’s eventually going to eat you up.
I’d venture to guess this secret is what keeps you from getting close to people. ”
He nods as his eyes fill with tears. He turns to face me. “I don’t know how to stop. It feels good.”
I take a deep breath. “Sexually good?”
Van flinches, pulling his head back. “No. I’m not a fucking sicko. Not that kind of good.”
“Sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”
“I don’t get off on killing people, Nan.
It feels good in the sense of doing something.
I feel like a goddamn hero knowing those assholes can never hurt anyone again.
Those victims can sleep better at night knowing the boogeyman is dead.
I found the monster under the bed and slayed it.
When everyone else failed them, I didn’t. ”
Maybe I’m losing my grip on reality, or maybe the dick is just that good, but I kind of agree with him.
“I get it, Van. I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do. In a weird way, you do this because your heart is so big. Your need for justice is strong.” I squeeze his hand. “But what will you do if your luck runs out? It would ruin your life.”
“I know. Every time, I tell myself that’s the last one, I won’t do it again. But then I hear a story like Alex Fetterman and I can’t let it go. I don’t know how. I can’t go to a therapist about it.”
“Don’t you have doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“Sure, but I don’t want to burden someone with that. It’s hard enough telling you. Now you know what I am. Can you still feel the same about me?”
The answer slowly bubbles up within me, spreading like warm water. “Yes. You’re still the amazing man I know. You’re still my friend.”
“Could you ever see me as more than that?”
“More than a friend?”
He nods. “I’ve missed you. I didn’t even know how much.
” He scoots closer, putting his hand on my ankle while we sit on the bed.
“I’ve found a whole new side of myself because of you.
Because of the safety you provide. You’ve always been that for me.
I don’t think I can go back to the way my life was before this trip. ”
“Van…”
“I promise to stop. I’ll figure it out. You’re a good reason to stop.”
“Are you saying you want a relationship with me? A romantic one?”
He looks slightly panicked for a second before his features relax and he smiles. “Shit. I guess I am. I wasn’t planning to ask because, you know, what I am, but I can’t imagine not feeling like this anymore.”
That’s it. This is a dream. A weird-ass post-dick dream. Or maybe the dicking down was part of the dream too and none of this is actually happening. I’ll wake up alone and horny and Vanian will be sleeping in the guest room, unaware of my unhinged fantasies.
Except why would I fantasize that Vanian is a serial killer? Vigilante killer? Is that better? It might be better.
“I realize I’m asking a lot,” Vanian says.
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re not. I’m, um, trying to merge my current reality with my teenage dreams.”
He smiles softly, brushing his fingers across my cheek. “Better late than never?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Yes.” I squeeze his hand. “You’ll get through this. I’ll help you. You can always come to me when the urge arises. We’ll figure it out.”
He searches my eyes, biting his bottom lip. I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.
“Van?”
Blowing out a breath, he nods. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
“Good. Want to clean up a little and get some sleep?”
“Sounds good.”
I can tell something is still on his mind, but we’ve covered enough heavy topics for one night, and I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
As I slide off the bed, Vanian grabs my wrist. I turn to face him. “What?”
“Thank you. I can’t express what a relief it is to admit it all. Thank you for not turning on me.”
“I never will, Vanian.”