CHAPTER NINETEEN

I’m awake before both Kerri and Shiloh, so I make breakfast. Fried eggs on toast, bacon, sausages, and fried tomatoes. I put their plates down as they walk in.

Kerri looks surprised. “Thank you, Esther, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I have a special surprise for you this week,” I say, looking at Shiloh. “And I wanted to start it off today with a nice hearty breakfast. You can have all of today off, and also tomorrow morning. I want to spend some time with Shiloh, and you’ve been so good at taking care of her.”

Kerri blushes. “It’s my job. You don’t have to reward me.”

“I know. I pay you to take care of her, but you seem to have a good connection with her, and I want to honor that.” I pour Kerri some coffee and set it down before I get Shiloh some orange juice.

I pour my own coffee and join them at the table. We fall into a comfortable silence as we eat. Kerri scrolls on her phone while Shiloh looks preoccupied. I hope she’s thinking of a plan to take Kerri out, but I’ll know soon enough.

When we’re finished breakfast, I shoo Kerri out to go enjoy her day off and I load the dishwasher, turning it on. I look at Shiloh, who looks up at me with big eyes.

“Basement,” I say calmly.

Shiloh gets up and leads me downstairs. She keys in the four-digit pin number into the keypad before we enter, and I shut the door behind me.

“So, what’s your plan?” I ask, sitting in a chair in the corner. “You have had all week to think about it.”

She stands at the table and traces her finger along the machete blade.

“You need to slit her throat,” I begin, “So she can’t scream for help, and then use the machete to take off her arms and legs. Don’t worry about any mess. I’ll clean it up.”

Shiloh looks at me and nods.

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all, Shiloh.” I sigh. Standing up, I go over to the table and kneel in front of her so we’re the same height. “I don’t think you’ve come up with a plan at all. In fact, I think you’re stalling for more time.”

Shiloh shakes her head, but I can see the guilt in her eyes. She’s lying.

She is lying to me .

I nod and get up, handing her the machete. “Practice on the wood,” I say.

She nods and takes the machete over to the wood, where she positions herself and takes a swing. I sit back in the cornerand when she is running out of wood; I go fetch some more.

Kerri’s gone out, as I knew she would, so I leave the basement door open. I come back down, and I see Shiloh has stopped.

“Did I say you could stop?” I ask as I drop the wood in front of her.

“My arm is tired,” she whines.

“Don’t whine,” I say pointedly. “I will not have some whiney little brat for a daughter. You will do as you’re told, and you know it.” I sit back down. “Go again.”

Shiloh begins to cry as she swings the machete, and I don’t let up until Midday. When I stand up, she looks at me and I hold my hand out for the machete. “You have the strength to do it, Shiloh, now you just need to find the resolve.” She stands at the table while I sharpen the machete and place it back there. “Come, we’re going out. Go put your coat on.”

“Where are we going?” she asks quietly.

“To have lunch. After tomorrow, you’re going to be a big girl, a woman, in fact. I want to celebrate early.”

Shiloh looks hesitant but goes upstairs to put her coat on. I get my own coat and purse before I lead her and strap her into the car seat. “After tomorrow, you won’t need a car seat anymore,” I say proudly. “You are tall enough to sit without one, but you will still sit in the back.”

“Yes, Mommy,” she says. She should be excited, but I can tell she’s not. She’s mulling over what needs to be done in her mind. She knows she needs to kill Kerri. I’ve been prepping her for this moment her entire life. I didn’t expect Kerri to become such a personal attachment to her.

“What have I said about personal relationships?”

“They’re no good,” Shiloh says. She is looking out the window at this point.

“Are you attached to Kerri?” I ask, more curious to know if she will lie again or not.

“No, Mommy,” she lies. “I’m not. I will do it, I promise. I just want the time to be right.”

I nod but don’t say anything further. We get to the restaurant, and I ask the hostess to sit us outside in the fresh air.

Shiloh examines the menu carefully and then looks at me. “What can I have?”

“Anything you want,” I say with a soft smile. “It’s your celebration.”

She nods, but she doesn’t look happy. The reason we’re celebrating is what is holding her back. She looks back at the menu and then says, “I want spaghetti.”

“Then you will have spaghetti.” The waitress comes back, and I order a glass of non-alcoholic wine for myself, and a fruit juice for Shiloh. “Then we want one adult’s spaghetti and one steak–rare, with roast potatoes and creamed spinach.”

The waitress writes everything down and takes our menus. She promises to be back soon and leaves.

I look at Shiloh, who is fidgeting with her hands in her lap. She doesn’t want to do this. That has become abundantly clear, and I know I’m going to have to deal with this my own way.

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