25. River #3
I try to imagine Pandora’s mom telling her to never talk to her again, and I fail miserably. Vanessa Pavone would never turn her back on any of her children, no matter what. And none of her dads would ever lay a hand on her.
Pandora could never imagine what it’s like to be cut off from her parents or to be hurt by them in any way.
I shouldn’t be bitter.
I shouldn’t be so torn up about someone who made it clear that I mean nothing to her. I’m just a byproduct of a marriage she probably never wanted, a reminder that she had a child she’d never wanted either.
Because if she’d wanted me, she never would’ve shut me out like that.
Pandora stares at me, her mouth parted. “Oh.”
“Oh?” I repeat, anger seeping into that single syllable.
Pandora closes the distance between us and places Echo against my chest. The snake is cool to the touch and immediately slithers up to my shoulders for stability.
“I’m sorry, River.” Pandora pets Echo. “That… that sucks. It really, really sucks.”
It sucks.
That’s such an understatement that I laugh, the sound dark and bitter. “Yeah. That’s one word for it,” I say, touching Echo and her smooth scales.
“So she ditched your dad as soon as you were out of the house? She couldn’t have done it earlier?
” Pandora moves her hand off Echo and onto my shoulder.
“I mean, I’m glad she didn’t take you away from me, but me wanting you is probably less important than you not living with your piece of shit dad. ”
I’m not sure how to feel about Pandora’s words. As much as I want her to want me, the idea that I could’ve gotten out so much sooner nags at me.
But she’s right. I would’ve been gone, and I never would’ve seen her again. I definitely wouldn’t have stalked her to Dyschord. Hell, I might not have really known her at all.
“You’re worth it,” I mumble. “I just need time to process, I guess.”
“Want to process by cuddling and talking about all the awful things we’ll do to John Allers?” Pandora suggests. She takes a few steps back and sits down on the bed, motioning for me to join her.
I lie down next to her, careful about positioning Echo. “Yeah,” I say, sighing. “Okay.”
It’s better than being at home alone in the dark with all my resentment swirling around in my head.
I pull her into my arms, inhaling her familiar scent, and hold her. Echo moves from my chest over to Pandora’s.
“So where do we start?” I ask. “Provided it all works as planned and we don’t get caught.”
“I don’t care if I get caught,” Pandora says glibly. “I’m going to murder him, River. I’m going to cut him into as many parts as Rachel. I’m going to make him even more afraid than she or Samantha or any of those girls were.”
I don’t doubt that she could do it.
If my mother could have done that to my father, would she have?
Could I have come home one day to a blood-stained kitchen, my mother finally smiling, and us free of my father?
He would have deserved as much as John Allers. He still deserves it.
Maybe I need to dream bigger than I have been. Escape my father? Laughable.
Murder him.
Make him pay for putting me through this.
Make him suffer for giving me a mother who seems to hate me.
Destroy him, the way he’s destroyed me.
“I’ve been imagining it,” Pandora continues, drawing patterns on my chest. “I think I’ll take one eye first. I’m going to force-feed it to him. Just one eye, though, so he can still see everything else I’m doing to him.”
“You’ll have to make sure he doesn’t pass out from the pain,” I tell her. “He doesn’t get to pass out and miss his own murder.” My voice is distant somehow.
“Right. Maybe I need to acquire cocaine. How long can somebody survive a disemboweling? I should test that. On him.” Pandora laughs. “He’s going to bleed so much, River. The entire boxing ring is going to be drenched in him.”
“We might need to take him somewhere else if we’re going to take our time,” I point out. “The boxing ring isn’t the best venue.”
There’s only so much we can get away with, and murdering him in the middle of the boxing ring might be pushing it a step far.
But the idea of everyone knowing what happened to him, with rapist and murderer written across his face and chest, is appealing.
Pandora has the right idea.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, River.” Pandora lightly slaps my stomach. “Nobody will dare go against us. After all, they could be next on our chopping block.” She giggles. “Literal chopping block.”
“I just meant, you can’t get a table saw up there. Or a chopping block.”
Seeing him in pieces, like Rachel had been in pieces, appeals to something dark and vicious inside of me. I want to see him relive her fate.
I want him to be awake while he does.
I want him to feel every single second of his dismemberment and murder.
My stomach should be turning; I should be disturbed by this.
I’m not.
Pandora smiles at me. “You’re right. Logistics can be a pain. You’ll have to help me strap him down so we can make a real theater out of it. Operating theater.”
I lean in and brush my lips against hers in a savage kiss. “Deal,” I say, my breathing unsteady.
Slayer was worried about Pandora, but I don’t see a problem. This is Pandora at her most glorious: dark and violent and delivering retribution.
Soon, we’ll make this a reality.