Chapter Sixty-One
Lilac
We’re at the cabin Jameson owns. Irvin bathes me. The fresh clothes feel heavy on my skin. I wrap my arms around my legs and rock back and forth, staring blankly at nothing.
I hear Jameson’s and Irvin’s voices. Then I hear the word Emerson. My hands go numb. Bile rises in my throat. How long have we been here? It doesn’t matter. It’s that word again.
“I found him,” Jameson says.
My heart pounds.
“He’s somewhere in a warehouse outside the city limits. I tracked him through traffic lights from your mansion when he took Lilac.”
I study Irvin’s movements as he loads a gun and an axe. He smiles—takes delight in the idea of killing Emerson. His words become muffled, time slowing like sticky syrup. I smile too.
Emerson’s voice rings in my ears, calling me his little sapphire. I see his hand stroking my face. Kissing me. Iron fills my nostrils. Blood is on the wall. Bile rises again. I swallow hard.
Irvin places his hands on my shoulders, leans down, then presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Are you okay, my Lilac?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? You look out of it.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to ride with us to kill Emerson? Or do you want to stay here, where it’s safer?”
I blink but don’t respond.
Jameson walks inside with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, beauty. Are you okay?”
Metallic rot lingers in the air.
I stare at him. He looks at Irvin. Irvin’s nose crinkles.
“She’ll ride with us.”
“Are you sure? She doesn’t look okay,” Jameson says.
“Yeah. I want her near me. She shouldn’t be alone.”
Irvin picks me up, carries me to the SUV, and slides into the back seat, pulling me into his arms. Jameson gets into the driver’s seat. They speak, but I can’t make out the words.
Run. Choose. Mine.
We arrive at a warehouse.
Irvin says Emerson. There’s that word again. And kill. That’s right. I need to get rid of Emerson. I need to eliminate him.
My little sapphire, whispers behind my ear.
Irvin opens the door and kisses my forehead. He says something, but his words are distorted. I watch him carry the duffel bag. I see the axe in his hand.
Blood splatters across my chest. My mother’s blood. Gray, sticky matter on the carpet.
Irvin and Jameson disappear through the steel door.
I don’t remember opening the car door or walking inside the warehouse.
But I see Irvin press a gun to Emerson’s forehead as Jameson ties him to a chair. I inch closer.
My heart thumps.
Jameson holds a camera in Emerson’s face.
Irvin punches Emerson, drawing blood.
He laughs.
Irvin yanks him by the shirt.
Emerson watches me, anger distorting his face.
“I thought I killed you, bitch,” Emerson shouts. “You’re mine. I gave up everything for you.”
Jameson slams the butt of the gun into Emerson’s forehead. Emerson groans.
Irvin rushes to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He says something, but his voice is muted.
Emerson is smoking a cigarette in the corner by the wall.
There are two of them.
“I should’ve shot you in the head before I buried you in that grave,” Emerson spits—the one in the chair.
“You shoul—”
My body tingles. I feel myself grab the axe from Irvin’s hand and drag it behind me. Metal screeches against concrete.
“Do you smell that?” I ask.
“What, baby?” Irvin answers.
“Blood and fatty tissue.”
Irvin’s eyes widen.
Jameson steps in front of me, but I walk around him.
Jameson snatches the axe from me. “I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret.”
“I have to,” I murmur.
Irvin takes the axe from Jameson and places it back in my hands.
“Do what you have to do, my Lilac.”
“You can completely destroy her mind if you let her do this,” Jameson grits out.
“Last time. Let her kill him. I know my wife better than you,” Irvin answers.
“I enjoyed raping you,” Emerson says. “That sweet pussy on my dick while you cried, begged me to stop. I also enjoyed killing your parents. They begged for their lives. They kept me from you. Just like this bastard.”
My mother bleeds out on the floor in front of me. My father lies beside her, a hole in his head.
I need to make it stop. I don’t know how else to make it stop.
Muffled voices collapse into silence.
I swing.
The impact lands with a dull, final crack.
Warm blood splashes across my hands.
Cool air burns my cheeks.
The light in his eyes vanishes.
I breathe shallowly.
Blink once.
Twice.
The sound of my sobs floods my ears—broken, uneven, tearing out of me.
I collapse into the pool of his blood as emptiness swallows me whole.
Irvin scoops me up in his arms and carries me out of the warehouse.