82. Willow #3
I glance over at the table of different tools. My stomach churns just thinking about all of the things that these could have been used for. Glancing at the monster, I can see that some have definitely been used on him once or twice.
“You’re too weak, Willow. You’ve always been weak.
You cowered behind him when you were a child.
You’ll cower behind him now. But he can’t save you, Willow.
No one can. Even when I die, I’ll still fucking haunt you, especially now that you know the truth.
You know that everything that has happened has always been your fault. ”
“No!” I scream. “It was yours. It was always because of you. You beat me. You beat my mother. You were strangling her. You picked up the knife and stabbed her. You were the one who did it all. I was a fucking child. Your child.”
“You’re not my child. Looking at you now, I can see it. You have his eyes, not mine and not your mother’s,” he says, and it makes the rage spark inside me, burning under my skin.
After looking at the assortment of knives, I finally choose one.
Its blade is black with a black metal hilt.
The blade shimmers in the light looking freshly sharpened.
Sharp enough to kill him quickly, because that’s what I want.
I want this over as quickly as possible.
One slice across his throat is all it would take.
“That’s my favorite knife, Little Rabbit,” Noah tells me, smiling as he nods at the knife.
Fitting. Another one of his favorites will now be mine as well.
I take a hesitant step toward the monster and then another. The world around me seems to sharpen, colors heightening with each step closer.
“You’re going to kill me, Willow? You’re going to do exactly what the killer wants you to do so that you’ll be just like him?”
“No. I’m going to kill you for me, and for my mother.”
I take a final step toward him as Noah steps up beside me.
He places a hand on my shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze as he urges me forward.
I stare into the eyes of the monster who has haunted me all of my life.
Even before I was told the truth, I had nightmares.
Terrible nightmares that would leave me screaming, paralyzed in fear, unable to fully wake up.
My heart is racing. He shifts, widening his legs and then cracks his neck as he looks me over. There’s a sickening grin on his lips as he glances from me to Noah then back to me.
“Maybe you’re right, Killer. Maybe she can accept the monster in you,” he laughs, and I can feel Noah tense beside me.
We will be talking about this after with lots and lots of alcohol. I want to know everything. How many others have there been? How many other people has he dragged down here to torture, and why…?
I don’t have time to worry about that right now. I need to end this vile human in front of me so I can finally, once and for all, move on with my life without looking over my shoulder everywhere I go.
“Come on, Willow. Show him how strong you are. Destroy him, just like you destroyed that house. He can never hurt you again,” Noah says, his words calming and reassuring.
“We’ll see about that,” James says slowly with the tone of a fucking serpent waiting to strike.
I raise the knife, aiming it right over his heart. I was going to slit his throat, but I think this is more fitting. He stabbed my mother over and over, so why shouldn’t he die the same way? My hand is shaking as the tip presses against the already damaged flesh of his chest.
“Do it, Willow,” Noah urges.
“Yes, do it, Willow. Kill me…”
I want to. I want to thrust this knife deep into his chest and watch the light fade from his eyes…but I can’t. I may want him dead, but can I really be the one to kill him?
“I knew it. You’re fucking weak, just like your mother.”
In the blink of an eye, everything shifts.
The snapping sound resonates around us, and the frail, damaged monster that was in front of me stands.
Noah pushes me out of the way, but he’s not fast enough.
I go flying back, landing on the ground hard, and the knife clangs to the floor.
James swings the chair and catches Noah in the side of the head causing his body to crumple to the floor.
A sickening laugh is all I can hear as James picks up the knife. He looks at me as I panic, moving to put as much distance between him and me as possible. Noah struggles to his feet and turns to fight, but it’s too late. James is there to meet his blows and plunges the knife into Noah’s stomach.
I watch as his eyes go wide, the look of fear and shock written across his face as he looks down at the knife protruding from his stomach. James releases the knife and takes a step back looking over Noah with sick satisfaction.
“No…” I whimper.
“Run, Little Rabbit,” the gargled plea hits me as he drops to the ground, his hands wrapped around the hilt of the blade.
The monster steps over to the table and picks up another knife, this one longer, with a red and black handle. He flicks his thumb across the blade letting his own blood spill across the steel before turning his attention to me.
“Yes, Little Rabbit. Run.”