25. Deanna
DEANNA
Ican’t shower it off. After we get back from the meeting, I spend an hour scrubbing in hot water, but it won’t wash away. The smell of shit and blood and piss is trapped in my nostrils and I swear his brains are still stuck under my fingernails.
I didn’t pull the trigger. I didn’t touch the body. But I also didn’t say a damn word about the corpse.
I helped him cover it up.
Prime killed a man. He explained what happened after we were back at home. I want to be angry, but I’m too afraid and exhausted to feel much of anything. I clean and clean, and I still come out filthy.
How did I get here? I was his personal assistant. He was a pain in the ass, but not dangerous. Seriously, Prime killing someone?
But he did it, and he doesn’t seem bothered.
Maybe he really is a monster.
The thing is, he keeps saying it. Over and over, since this started, he was clear about who and what he is, but I didn’t want to believe him. Every time he touched me, every time he held me and kissed me and fucked me, I thought I was seeing the real man behind the mask.
But now that mask is drenched in blood and I don’t know who I am anymore.
That night I sleep on my side of the bed, afraid he’s going to touch me, but equally terrified to draw attention to myself by trying to stay on the couch.
I have horrible dreams about shattered skulls and stinking bodies, and in the morning I can’t take it anymore.
I dress and get out of there, only pausing to tell him that I’m visiting my parents and taking a day off work. He doesn’t argue.
“Good morning, honey!” Mom is sitting in the living room with a cup of tea and her tablet. She peers at me over her glasses. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Thought I’d drop in. Where’s Dad?”
“Yolanda’s helping him in the bathroom. There’s coffee if you want some.”
I fill a mug in the kitchen and breathe in the smell of it. I keep flashing back to Prime, to the way his touch feels, this strange, halfway disconnect I feel, caught between being afraid of what he is and still wanting him so badly it makes my knees shake.
Dad comes down with Yolanda the nurse. I help him to the kitchen and he seems like he’s in a good mood.
He thinks I’m my cousin, which is fine and close enough.
I pitch in with breakfast while Yolanda busies herself straightening, and even Mom comes to sit with us voluntarily, which is a huge change.
Back before the full-time nurse, it was like Mom was allergic to being in the same room as Dad, at least whenever she could help it.
But the atmosphere in the house is so much better.
It’s striking how different it feels. Dad’s still the same, but Mom’s stress levels are astronomically lower.
She even jokes and smiles, and for a while I start to think it’s like the old days.
Sure, Dad isn’t entirely aware of what we’re doing, but he grins a few times and grunts at what we say, and he has to be reminded constantly of where we are and what’s happening, but there are stretches where he’s mostly lucid.
And once, briefly, he touches my hand and asks how I’m doing, and I swear he knows me, the actual me, his real-life daughter.
It kills me. It really does. Seeing my parents like this, sitting in it, this is why I’m married to Prime, why I’m going through hell with him.
“Honey? You seem distracted. Is everything okay?” Mom smiles, her hand covering my father’s. He sometimes reacts poorly to physical contact, since he’s not always sure who we are, but today he doesn’t mind at all.
I bite my tongue to keep from crying. It’s like I’m a kid again, my father’s got his mind back, my mother’s not a ball of grief and denial anymore, and I can be free. I smile at them, wiping my eyes, and I taste blood, maybe that dead guy’s blood, but I don’t care.
“Everything’s okay. Don’t worry, thinking about work, is all. Speak of the devil—“ My phone buzzes and Prime’s name shows on the screen.
“Go ahead and take it. We’ll be here.” Mom beams at me happily. “Your bedroom’s empty if you need some privacy.”
“Good to know you didn’t convert it into a gym.”
“Not yet,” Dad says, which surprises us both. “I like rowing machines.”
I touch his shoulder on the way past and answer before the call goes to voicemail. “Hey Prime.”
“Deanna where are you?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, but I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m with my parents. If you don’t need me?—“
“Wait. Don’t hang up.”
I hear a note of worry as I slip into my bedroom. It really is strangely bare, although my bed’s still against the wall. I sit on the edge, biting my fingernails. I used to chew on them a lot when I was younger and I thought I’d kicked the habit.
Guess Prime brings the worst out in me.
“I don’t want to talk,” I say softly, in case Yolanda can hear.
“You weren’t supposed to see the body. I didn’t want that to happen.”
“It’s fine.”
“I know it isn’t. Deanna, I want you to come home.”
“I can’t right now. My parents are doing good and I want to be here for a while.”
“I didn’t want to drag you into that. I’ve been trying to spare you.”
“Prime, stop.”
“You’re not a killer, Deanna. What happened to that man, I did it. I pulled the trigger. I’d pull it again, a thousand more times if I had to. I’ll do anything to protect you. But don’t let his blood hang in your conscience, do you understand?”
“Please.” I close my eyes and hug myself. “Prime.”
“You’re a good person. I told you, I’m beyond saving. I’m dangerous for everyone around me. But you know what’s the worst part? I still want you here. Even knowing I’ll ruin you, I need you, Deanna. I need you to come home.”
“Not right now. I just… I need some time.”
“I’ll be close.”
“Prime—“
“I’ll be watching. When you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
He hangs up. I let the phone slide from my fingers. Emotions fight in my core, the constant struggle. Fear at what I’m becoming. The desire to go running back to him. I could let Prime wrap his arms around me and I wouldn’t think anymore. I want to give myself over to him.
But the corpse haunts me.
I’ve never killed anyone before. I’ve never hurt anyone either.
And Prime’s right, I still haven’t, but I’m his wife and I’m a part of this revenge story he’s working through.
How can I live with myself if I let him get hurt in the process?
What will I do if he’s gone? The money will be there—but is the money all I need anymore?
I return to the kitchen. Mom’s helping Dad with some simple puzzles he likes and I join in.
He’s in a good mood now that he’s got something to concentrate on and isn’t paying attention to the people around him.
I find myself relaxing and Mom laughs a few times and even Dad smiles, and I want my life to be like this, except there’s a hole in my chest, and I catch myself wishing Prime were here too.
Wishing I had a killer by my side.
Someone rings the doorbell. Yolanda goes to answer, but I hurry past her. “Don’t worry, I got it.” She seems uncertain but I wait until she recedes to the kitchen before opening. “Prime, I told you?—“
Except my husband’s not standing on the front step.
Carbone gives me a flat, unhappy smile. “Hello, Mrs. Spadaro. Think I could have a moment of your time?”