Chapter 29 Ginny
TWENTY-NINE
GINNY
Nurse Nancy hadn’t come to see me in days. Not since Elijah came.
Had I dreamt that she’d seen us together, or was it real? It felt like she was avoiding me because she was angry at seeing him with me. I hoped she hadn’t told the doctors that Elijah broke in, because he hadn’t visited since then either.
My back ached as I paced the day room, watching Larry scatter handfuls of crumbs across the grass outside.
Still trying to find his friends. Perhaps I should have told him about the one I’d found strung up in my ribbon, but I didn’t want to set him off worrying or causing a fuss which might have him dragged downstairs.
I wrapped my last ribbon around my fingers before tugging it free. Wrap. Tug. Wrap. Tug. Nancy had promised me more, but she’d lied. Maybe she was punishing me like Mama did.
The other patients sat staring at their laps or the wall. Listening to the radio droning on in the corner. Wellard was either pure boredom, or torture, and very little in between.
I shifted from foot to foot, trying to release the pain in my hips. The baby would come soon, already the pressure had moved from up in my ribs to between my thighs. Every step hurt.
The air in the room was rank. Sticky and humid as the wet day turned warm.
I itched to get out. To get away from the monotony for even a few minutes.
Every sound in the room grated at my nerves.
The squeak of chairs and the scuff of slippers.
The wet smack of someone’s tongue. The never-ending ticking of the damned wall clock, just making every minute seem endless.
I needed to get out. The one silver lining of the shit staff was that no one stopped me from going out and losing myself in the woods. Knotting my ribbon in my hair, I stepped out into the hall.
Unease followed me, as it so often did in the quiet moments in the asylum.
At the nurses’ station, a colourful, embroidered bag slumped half-open at the foot of the chair.
Wool spilled out like rainbow spaghetti, and the sight stopped me in my tracks.
It was the most colour I’d seen since I’d been forced into the big, grey building.
A creak down the hall had me swallowing hard and taking another look at the bag.
I dipped my hand in without thinking, closing around cold steel.
A knitting needle. Long and sharp. I shoved it up my sleeve.
Deeper in the bag was a pair of heavy shears.
Old and fearsome-looking. I stole them too, shoving them deep into the worn pocket of my nightgown.
I waited for someone to stop me. To take my weapons and punish me for arming myself. But no one did. They either didn’t see or didn’t care. More likely to take bets on who I’d stab than try to stop it happening.
The doors groaned as I pushed them open, the autumn air so fresh in my lungs.
The grounds loomed empty until you hit the tree line.
Weeds thrived, but little else did. The grass soaked my slippers, and I revelled in the sensation.
It reminded me I was alive. As long as I could still feel the rain and the wind, and watch the ravens swoop, they hadn’t beaten me yet.
Beyond, the woods reached for me with long, dark fingers. Calling me.
‘Ginny.’
I turned at the voice, thinking it might be Larry. But the flash of a white coat told me it wasn’t.
I ran.
But running was difficult, with the weight of my stomach tipping me forward.
I lumbered toward the woods, the sticky ground sucking at my feet.
When the branches swallowed me, they snagged my gown and my short hair, forcing me to keep tearing them free.
Pain seared, and my pulse quickened. The baby shifted hard, jolting electricity through my vagina with every step.
And then I heard him. Too close.
‘Ginny…’
It slithered between the trees, low and menacing.
‘I know you’re out here, sweetheart. Don’t make me chase you.’
I ducked behind a trunk, my chest heaving as I pressed into the rough bark. My breath came in heavy bursts as I tried to calm myself, holding my stomach as I winced.
‘It’s just us,’ I whispered. ‘Just us, baby. Stay quiet.’
Branches cracked nearby. Footsteps. The doctor hunted me.
‘You’re my girl,’ he crooned. ‘You’ve always been my girl. I opened you up, remember, all those years ago? You’ll always belong to me.’
I swallowed down a sob, and willed myself to run, but everything felt too heavy. My legs shook so hard I thought I’d collapse.
‘Come out, Ginny.’ His voice grew harsher. ‘Don’t be bad. You know what happens when you’re bad.’
I couldn’t breathe. He was close enough to smell. Sweat and cigarette smoke, all sour and wrong. Not Elijah’s peppery spice. Not safety. I slid the knitting needle into my hand.
It wasn’t him.
I bolted again, crashing deeper into the woods. My lungs burned with every step, the baby lurching inside me, urine escaping and running down my legs.
Hands gripped my upper arms, bringing me to an abrupt stop.
I shrieked and thrashed, but he yanked me back against him while tearing my nightgown upwards, his hard cock pressing against my ass. His breath scorched my ear. ‘Shh. It’s Elijah. It’s me.’
‘No! You’re not him.’
When he turned me to face him, his fingers sinking deep into my piss-soaked cunt, I saw him for who he was.
Uncle Robert. Or Nancy’s husband. Maybe both?
I hadn’t seen Uncle Robert since I was a child.
Since before Elijah. Were they the same?
My head reeled as he fingered me roughly against the tree.
‘This is mine. It will always be mine. It is now. It will be after I get my baby out of you and put another one in you. And another.’
His words unlocked something inside me. Unhooked something that told me exactly what to do. I shifted as he thrust his fingers faster, the sensation beginning to feel good. It disgusted me.
‘The baby isn’t yours,’ I whispered, ‘It’s mine.’
Gripping the knitting needle, I drove it high before bringing it swiftly downward. Into soft flesh. The wet jelly pop sounded almost comical.
His scream tore the leaves. He stumbled back, clutching his face as blood and eye innards dripped down his face. The needle jutted out from where he clasped his face, the metal poking from between his fingers.
‘You fuckin’ whore. What the fuck?’ Rage tumbled from him.
Elijah flickered for a moment, younger and sweeter than Robert, and the horror at what I’d done sent a wave of fear through me.
It’s Robert, not Elijah.
With a pained groan, he hauled the needle out of his eye and tossed it into the bushes.
He staggered toward me, his bloodied hand brushing the swell of my belly like he was leaving his claim there.
Not reaching for me. He was reaching for my baby.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I threatened. The words brought a steadiness to my hands. Words I’d wanted to tell him, tell Elijah, for so many years.
‘I’ll do more than touch you. I’ll cut your fuckin’ belly open and take my kid, then let the staff see how long it takes to fill your empty uterus with our fuckin’ cum.’
I ripped the shears from my pocket and smiled up at him.
‘Goodbye, Elijah.’
I drove the blades into his neck. The steel slid through soft flesh before hitting a hardness inside. I kept pushing. Hot spray burst across my face and dripped down over me as he grasped my throat, using his meaty fingers to squeeze tight.
He gargled, choking on his blood, but I stabbed again.
And again. The shears hacked and tore, my hands growing slippy and warm, his body jerking against mine as his blood spilled black into the dirt.
It wasn’t long before his grip on my neck loosened, his hands resting rather than cutting off my breath.
Death could be so noisy. The crunch of cartilage and the rip of skin, the bubbling rasps of his dying breaths.
Everything was coated in the most vibrant shade of red.
I screamed with every thrust, reclaiming everything he’d ever taken with every slice.
The baby kicked frantically beneath my ribs, as if she told me Kill bad daddy.
I stabbed and stabbed long after he hit the floor. Stabbed until my hands ached.
When the shears slipped from my grip, Robert was half-man, half-meat. He collapsed into the mud, blood trickling weakly, his ruined throat in red ribbons. His remaining eye tipped up to the sky and stilled.
No more sounds from him. No more mean words or sweet nothings.It was done.
Only my ragged breath remained.
I dropped to my knees as fat tears escaped. Not for Robert, but for Elijah. Had he really never been with me? Or did Robert just pretend to be him sometimes? I rocked myself in the wet grass, the shears laying sticky against my leg.
‘I don’t think Elijah is coming for us,’ I whispered hoarsely while running a hand over my blood-soaked nightgown. ‘I’ll protect you. Always. I’ll protect you. It’s just you and me now.’
The copper stink clung heavy in the cold air as I looked from the broken man to my stained hands.
From deeper in the woods footsteps approached, twigs snapping.
I snatched the shears, wrapping my fingers around the wet metal and preparing to take another life if I had to. Whatever it took to save my baby.
Standing, I turned to face the noise.
There was nowhere left to run.