Chapter 24 It’s Over
It’s Over
CADE
“You’ve been here before?” Bunny stands in front of a tall, melancholy statue, her gaze somber. I let her take whatever time she needs, occasionally checking the street to make sure no one comes near the car. We left the driver on the floor of the back seat, piled on top of Williams' messy form.
I doubt anyone will see him down there in the dark. Still, we’ve come so far.
“You ready?”
She takes my hand and leads us on, not a hiccup or hitch in her step as we climb the pearly stairs to the front door.
It opens without resistance. A warning? Or does he really believe he’s untouchable?
Together, as we walk hand-in-hand, we’ll make sure he understands just how vulnerable he really is.
The grand entryway echoes with our footsteps, continuing even after we’ve stopped in the center. I can’t deny it; I stare in awe at the dazzling design, but with every piece of gold and crystal I spot, I’m reminded of what it took to get here.
I wonder how many lives it took to get that chandelier alone. How much blood was shed for the diamond-like marble I’m stepping on?
I wonder if it’ll all be worth it in the end.
Breaking the silence, Bunny asks in a hushed tone, one that doesn’t echo. “Are you afraid?”
Yes. But I smile regardless. “Always… but it’ll be over soon.” How about you? “Are you?”
“Always.”
Taking her other hand this time, I dot the same number of kisses on each finger. “I got you,” I promised. We’ll get out of this together.
I think both of us needed to steady our breathing before taking another step, but with each passing moment, we wasted valuable time. Who knows who will walk through that door? I want this over before anyone has a chance to.
Having been here before, I let her take the lead on the stairs, but I keep my hand on hers at all times—a reminder, not just for her, that I’m here and we’re almost done.
“You think he’s still here?” The question comes to me when we’re nearing the top. After all the deaths of his associates, you think he’d stay where he knew she could find him?
But Bunny’s confident. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
At the landing, Bunny takes a left, but all the sinister energy comes from the right. “It’s not down there?”
Bunny gives the direction one glance before vigorously shaking her head, horror dancing in her eyes. “No.” It’s sure and scared enough to keep me from questioning it again.
We stop in front of a large wooden door, carved with ornate designs. Hand wrapping around a masterfully crafted doorknob, Bunny takes a deep breath, steeling herself before entering the devil’s den. She’s a foot past the threshold before I drag her behind me.
She got us here. It’s my turn to take the lead.
Taking the gun I stole from the car, I rest my finger on the trigger and slowly creep inside. The inside is pitch black and lifeless until I flip the switch. Now it’s just dull, with no sign that anyone was ever here.
“Maybe he did leave?”
I don’t think she heard me, too focused on the quality of the linens and how they feel against her skin. After experiencing the hole we escaped from and the less-than-comfortable sheets at the inn, it’s no surprise Bunny loses herself in something soft. She deserves it.
Maybe I can give her that one day.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
Sprawled all over the mattress, Bunny coats every inch of the high-quality material in thick, crusted blood. “Relaxing.”
“You do that,” I continue to chuckle as I explore the room. I find myself in the connecting bathroom, avoiding my reflection as I gaze at the glittering marble countertops. His initials are engraved in the stone—a big I.M.—to remind everyone who belongs here. Taking my blade, I scratch through it.
“I’m here too now, bitch.”
I take my knife and make sure to leave my mark on every inch of the bathroom.
I don’t want him to look in this room and feel even an ounce of peace.
I want him to see me and the blade he created.
I do the same thing to the grand closet, shredding all his fancy suits—ruining every expensive leather shoe until strips and scraps mar the floor.
From outside, I hear Bunny release a sudden string of curses and screams. I run out, knife and gun in hand, but when I see she’s just having the same kind of fun I am, I toss her the knife for a more thorough type of excitement and leave her be, having another closet to explore.
Opposite the bathroom, this closet is filled with mementos and treasures.
None of them makes sense to me until I open the garment bags.
Each one contains an outfit, a preserved condom, a lock of hair…
and an album. My gut sinks at the sheer amount in this room.
After counting, there’s well over two hundred, and that’s in this room alone.
I feel my knees weaken, but I force myself to straighten, tearing open each one until I find strawberry hair that could only belong to one person.
A green dress, decorated with jewels.
A condom filled more than most.
A lock of perfectly coiled hair.
And an album.
I don’t stop myself from collapsing this time. On the ground, I hold the book to my chest, feeling my heart threaten to break. After one, two, three breaths, I crack open the spine and am met with a broad smile and unbroken eyes.
She wanted to be a model… and God, was she a natural at it.
“The camera loves you, baby…” and she loved it… until her clothes came off. The discomfort is evident in her stare, but she continued. It’s the cost of the dream, right? At least that’s what we were led to believe.
With each page turned, my fingers shake a little harder. She went from wearing average clothes, looking like a normal, everyday girl, to a goddess in green. The same green dress hangs in the closet now.
In these photos, she should look perfect. Instead, she looks faded, like a ghost of a person with faraway eyes. I saw a lot of girls on drugs underground, and that’s what I see in my girl now.
In these photos, my Bunny isn’t present. Her body is there, being placed on the ground and violated in every position, but her mind is gone.
A mercy, I suppose.
One less horrible memory to break her.
When the photos become too much to handle, I slam the book shut, holding back the vomit that threatens to spew.
Oh, my girl.
My Bunny.
Sick to my stomach, I rip every page free, tearing the photos to pieces except one.
It’s a candid of Bunny in that exquisite green dress. Her hair is curled all around her in wide, framing barrels. Her skin appears porcelain, shining like the diamonds that drip from her. Lashes black and sweeping, with lips soft and pink, Bunny is inhuman, the most perfect thing to exist.
In a house of horrors, she’s a gift—one no one deserves.
Carefully, I take that photo and slide it in my pocket, vowing to treasure it until the day I die.
I didn’t realize how deep the closet went, how soundproof it was inside the dense walls. It masked the noises coming from the other room, the fear in my girl’s voice when she spoke. It all becomes more coherent as I get closer to the end, but nothing is clearer than him.
“—Assuming that was you and not the ungrateful bastard I took in.”
The gun, which I had placed in the pocket of my pants, is in my hand in an instant, loaded and ready.
I don’t even need to think about it when I creep out of the room and point it in his direction.
It fires and, like with my blade, I don’t miss.
One of his biceps explodes into a fountain of blood, and this time, it’s his scream in the air.
“It was her,” I announce, but he’s too preoccupied by the wound I inflicted.
Breathing heavily, Marone glares at the new hole in his body, furious before a vicious laugh takes over. “You are going to fucking die for that, boy.”
That smile turns into a snarl as he charges at me from across the room. Bunny comes flying at the same instant, both of them racing in my direction. But my guns only pointed at one.
A thunderous bang echoes through the room, and Marone goes down, knee completely shattered. It’s my turn to charge now, barrel pointed straight at his head.
“Look who’s prey now.”
Marone glares daggers at me from the floor, sneering with spit stringing from his lips. There’s a silent challenge coming from both of us. His eyes are screaming for me to do it. Shoot him. But me? All I want is for him to stand and face me like a fucking man.
Can he do it when there’s no chain locking me in place or a cage between us?
While I wait to find out, I eye Bunny climbing backwards off the bed, eyes never leaving the back of Marone’s head. Stupid man. It looks like she forgot there were two monsters in this room.
There’s no forgetting now, though, not with the blade hooked around the corner of his lips. All the confidence that was foaming out of him melts away. The intoxicating aroma of bitter metal, heady musk, and sweat replaces it.
Fear.
Gun at his head, blade in his mouth—finally, we have the devil at our feet.
“Do you know how many times I’ve been in this same position?
” Bunny asks, tearing vicious tracks in his scalp.
She doesn’t unsheathe her claws until her fingers are painted red.
She uses the thick, crimson blood to draw strips from his chin to cheek.
“Do you know how many times I’ve had a knife in my mouth? ”
“About the same number of times you’ve had a dick in there?”
That comment earns him his first slice. Lucky for him, she was quicker with the blade than I was with the trigger. As the slice curls up his face, broken and torn with some pieces still connected to others, I change my thoughts. Maybe he’s not so lucky after all.