Chapter Ten Lakey #2
"Are you fucking stupid? Slow down, no one can understand your incoherent babbling." Frustrated, I grabbed a karambit and stabbed him in the hand. “That’s for irritating me.”
His blood spurted out in streams, coating my neck, soaking through the thin fabric of my shirt. A long stream went up into the air and splattered against Cam. Skeeter screamed and let out a string of expletives.
“Quick, before I decide to just take a finger.”
"The old mill. I think it's by the old mill. Or you might find the address at the old mill. I don't have an address, but that's where that guy in the SUV said to meet him next week with information on you."
Hmmm... information on me... "Why does he want information on me? I ain't been around him for... a very long time."
"He didn't say. Just that he wanted to tell you something, or give you something, or something. I don't fucking know. Cam, please, tell her to stop. I've told you everything I know."
The old mill. Something about those words tugged at the back of my brain.
Not a memory, exactly. More of a feeling.
The way you recognize a song you've never heard before because your body has heard it, even if your mind hasn't.
The old mill was connected to something.
To St. Agnes. To the blackouts. To the gaps in my memory that sat there like missing teeth, the tongue always finding the empty space and flinching.
"Well, well," I said. "Looks like we're not killing anyone today. Might need him again."
Cam's answering grin was all teeth. "He does have a penchant for lying."
My mind raced, plotting our next move. The group home held secrets, alright, and we were about to blow them wide open. Or up. Depended on my mood when I got there.
I gave Skeeter one last smile before turning to Cam. "Make yourself comfortable, sweet summer child. We'll be back later."
Cam nodded, “Let’s go, doll.”
We left Skeeter whimpering in the tub, his muffled cries fading as I shut the bathroom door with a decisive click.
"Well, that was fun," I chirped, skipping towards the kitchen. "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."
I yanked open the fridge and found our beer on the first shelf. My fingers closed around two bottles, the glass slick and cold against my skin.
"Catch," I called, tossing one to Cam. He snagged it effortlessly, his huge hand dwarfing the bottle. I popped my cap off with practiced ease, the sharp hiss cutting through the quiet.
"To old times," I murmured, clinking my bottle against his.
The group home sat in my mind. So much of my time there was blank, but what I did remember was a cesspool of pain and misery.
I'd never wanted to revisit those memories, but something about this hit list got me excited to exact revenge.
Who knows? Maybe I will find peace and healing.
I was just grateful I wouldn't be going at it alone.
With Cam by my side, I was ready to face those demons.
And make them pay.
"Nah, babe, to new ones." He grinned, leaning down to capture my mouth in a rough kiss before tearing away with a smirk.
I took a long swig, the bitter taste washing away the metallic tang of violence still lingering on my tongue.
"So, Cammy," I said, "what do you think about a little field trip to my old stomping grounds?"
Cam's lips curled as he licked his lips. "Feeling nostalgic, Lakey?"
I giggled, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. "Oh, you know me. Nothing says, 'home sweet home' like revisiting the scene of the trauma I can't really remember."
He lifted the bottle to his lips, downing almost all of it before motioning for me to grab him another. "And here I thought you'd want to savor our little reunion with Skeeter a bit longer."
"Please," I scoffed, waving my hand dismissively. "He's small potatoes. The real prize is waiting for us at that hellhole."
My mind sent me back to those endless nights, the constant fear, the burning rage that had forged me into the woman I was today.
I could almost smell the musty corridors, hear the echoes of muffled sobs.
There was a giant piece missing. I vaguely remembered being strapped to a gurney and being wheeled down a hall, but everything after that was dark.
The blackout at SINNERS had taken most of what was left, and now my childhood was more gap than memory.
That was the piece that I needed to fill. Well, one of them. My entire life was a pretty big black hole as well and according to Google, that's a sign of repressed memories.
Thanks, Google. Real helpful. Tell me something I don't know, like where the fuck St. Agnes is and why my body breaks out in hives when I hear church bells.
"I'm so excited, Cam. If we find the place, there's bound to be information, right?
They can't have had all of us girls there, without some kind of filing system.
Some records of some kind. All those files, all that dirt on the bastards who made our lives a living nightmare.
It's just sitting there, waiting for us to use it.
Who knows? Maybe we will find some info on the whereabouts of the ones missing on the hit list."
Cam leaned back against the counter, his massive frame radiating that energy he got when the violence was close and the plan was forming. "And what exactly did you have in mind for all that information, sweetheart?"
My lips curled upward in a little smirk. "Oh, you know... a little blackmail here, some well-deserved vengeance there. Maybe we'll even burn the whole fucking place to the ground."
"As long as I can sink little Marie here—"he flicked his butterfly knife open and shut—"into the guts of the bastards who hurt my girl, I'll follow you anywhere."
"Marie?" I raised an eyebrow. "You named your knife Marie?"
"She's elegant. She deserved a name. Besides you named the cockroach under the fridge and the coffee maker."
"Yeah, that was cute because it was me. You doing it is weird."
"You zip-tied a man to our bathtub and twisted his nuts, but I'm the weird one for naming my knife."
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw stars. "Fine. Marie can come. But she has to share."