26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
The fine hairs on my neck stood up as the home I grew up in rolled into view. The car came to a slow stop, and I suddenly felt less comfortable in the very comfortable cushioned seat as I stared out through tinted windows.
A sharp breath hitched in my chest as I took in the place I once called home. It looked more like a house from a creepy story a teen babysitter would tell the kids as she tucked them in, than a loving family home. And that was exactly what it was...a place of taboo nightmares that collided with my reality.
A shiver ran down my spine, eyes roving over black turrets casting shadows on the ground below, sharp spikes threatening the dying flowers. The dark drapes sat open, revealing dull and lifeless rooms with hideous floral wallpaper peeling off the walls. The place needed redecorating.
The only lights we could see came from a candle in the front room downstairs and the flickering porch light, which spent more time off than on, thanks to faulty wiring.
A portable speaker attached to Mercer’s collar asked a question, the voice too much like a sexy horror villain. I half expected to see him in some kind of ghost mask when I twisted my head to face him.
“You don’t have to come in. You don’t have to be here at all. But he’s not going to survive the night.”
Despite what Mercer said about us coming here tonight, he offered me the chance to back out, but as horrible as it was, I wanted to be here. I wanted to see the fear on this monster’s face. I wanted to see all his nightmares come to life, just like mine had.
I had to be here to end my own nightmares.
I shook my head, my hair grazing the jacket I wore.
“You’re sure?”
A quick glance back at the house had my scarred chest rising and falling faster. I fogged the window with a stuttering breath, and my fingers cleared it instantly.
“Yes.”
“Do we need a safe word?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
He nodded, trusting me more than I did myself, and then he opened the car door to start the final nightmare.
Mercer carried me over the threshold. The sound of the kettle screaming blocked out the noise of the front door clicking shut. My uncle was down the hall, pattering around in the kitchen where another candle lit up the room.
Wet footprints trailed behind us as Mercer carried me through the dark and up the stairs to the room where he’d taken me from weeks ago.
That was my request.
To end the nightmare where it began.
Mercer turned on the bedroom light, the yellow hue from an old bulb lighting up the room before he sat me on the bed. Fast feet took him around the room, wet shoes soaking my pink carpet. Ironically, it didn’t bother me so much here.
An unauthentic laugh danced on my lips, induced by the nerves I was feeling. My permanent itch was back again, my arms protected from raw skin by my loosely-fitted jacket.
He bent down to examine the trinkets and odd collectibles I always loved as they sat collecting dust on my entertainment stand. His fingers felt over the fuzzy, brightly-colored hair of a miniature troll.
He shot me a side-eye glance, judging my treasures.
“Hey...I like what I like.”
“You have questionable taste.”
“Clearly.” I nodded in his direction.
“What in the hell?” My uncle’s voice echoed in my ears. And so did the sound of his slippers dragging over the carpeted stairs as he moved closer. My head snapped to the door, waiting for the monster to darken the hall.
I eyed Mercer in time to see him pocket the pink-haired doll.
He brought a long finger to his lips, backing into my open closet. The clothes Uncle Sam deemed slutty were still on the floor from his last temper tantrum. He didn’t like that I owned skirts and dresses. He didn’t like the idea of me showing skin to anyone else. Not that I ever saw anyone else or dressed myself.
“Who the fuc...” Uncle Sam appeared in the doorway, his words trailing off as he spotted me on the bed. Shock swirled around him and settled on his sweat-glistened face. Luckily, he forgot all about the wet footsteps he followed up here as he stepped inside.
He always was a stupid man.
The smell of cheap lemon deodorant entered my flaring nostrils. The memories it brought would have choked me to death if I wasn’t so focused on the light bouncing off the giant kitchen knife in his hand. His wild hair stuck out, the brown color a hard contrast to his shocking white face. He looked like the bogeyman.
“Feebee! Where did you come from?”
“Hi, Uncle Sam.”
“I thought you were taken.”
“By who?” The shock jumped to my face.
“Never mind. I was clearly wrong. The good thing is you’re home now.” He completely ignored my question.
“Did you look for me?” was my next question, only because I didn’t want to say there was nothing good about being here, not while he had that giant knife in his hand.
“Well, I didn’t think I’d find you.” He stepped closer, his giant slipper flopping onto one of Mercer’s footprints.
“Did you try?”
“Feebee, honey,” he said in a voice laced with fake adoration.
The creaky mattress dipped as he sat, causing my weight to wobble closer to him and the knife, conveniently pointing my way.
I steadied myself, hating that I had to use his hairy shoulders to do it.
The soup he’d been eating—some horrible dish he and my father always enjoyed—stained his once-white tank top, and he used that dirty tank top to wipe the disgusting soup from his mustache.
“I thought those men had come for you to collect your father’s debt.”
“His debt ended with his life!” I snapped.
“But they could still earn money from you. They still wanted what they were owed.”
“How do you know that?” I wondered aloud.
“Honey.” His hand landed on me, callouses scraping over my bare leg, and I thanked the Gods above that I couldn’t fucking feel it.
But I still felt sick.
“They were coming back. Your value had decreased, but they thought it would be enough to cover what your father owed. No one lives for free.”
“My life cost my father his,” I reminded him, pushing his touch away from my leg. “And the life of another young woman.”
“And a hefty price, which wasn’t paid in full. They told me the debt would be collected, but I didn’t have the kind of money they expected.”
I stared at him with all the hate in the world. His knife edged closer, the blade hitting my knee, piercing the skin as he leaned closer.
The hint of iron in the air pulled Mercer from the closet. He watched in the shadow of the doorway as my uncle confessed his sins.
“You told them they could have me?”
“That’s why I did the things I did. I was preparing your body, but I knew time was running out. I had no idea when they would show up.”
“You were pr-pr-preparing me!” I stuttered, the anxiety in my voice pulling Mercer another step closer.
“I knew the legs would be an issue, but you being a virgin would make you worth more. I knew they were coming, but I didn’t think they would bring you back. I thought you would be sold to some old pervert, and that would be the end of it.”
“For you. But not for me.” I shook my head, looking away from the selfish bastard. It was hard to believe he and my father came from the same cloth...clearly, his half had all the stains.
“You knew they were coming for me, and you didn’t protect me?” I shouldn’t have been surprised, not after what he had done to me. His hand moved to my hip, and I flinched, hating the feel of his touch.
“Get your hands off my girl,” the voice, powered by Mercer’s keyboard and quick fingers, said.
Uncle Sam jumped, the blade pushing deeper into my skin.
Mercer moved around the bed, his feet swallowing the distance between us in three long strides.
Uncle Sam followed him with wide eyes, his neck almost snapping.
Mercer took a seat at my side, close enough for the mattress to pull me from my uncle and lean me into him instead. A grateful breath escaped me, and a deadly smile crawled on Mercer’s face, making him look all the more haunting as he stared with hidden emotions and his rigid body moved toward my uncle.
His fingers wrapped around the blade at my knee, his blood mixing with mine as he guided it from my leg.
“You’re not the one I met before.” Uncle Sam retreated slightly. He seemed uncomfortable.
“Because I wasn’t taken by traffickers.”
“And you never will be,” Mercer promised. “The men in question should already be dead.”
“Who are you?” My uncle edged back some more, the blade dripping blood on the sheets, joining the previous similar stains as he continued to inch back. “What’s with the voice?”
“None of your fucking business,” the voice declared.
I admired that Mercer didn’t need both hands or even his eyes to type his messages. His icy blues stayed on my pitiful uncle, freezing him in place and causing him to shiver.
“It’s good to have you home, Feebee. Now, call off your dog, huh?” My uncle laughed, years of smoking making it wheezy and causing him to choke on his false bravado.
Mercer’s robotic voice laughed, too. The menacing echo stole all the sound from my uncle’s mouth.
“Apologize to her.”
“Excuse me?” Uncle Sam sat straighter. The grip on his knife tightened and set my hackles on edge. Mercer didn’t fail to notice, his bloody hand wrapping around the small of my waist.
“One chance. Do the right thing by your fucking niece, and I’ll let you live. Apologize. To. Her.”
Uncle Sam’s bloodshot eyes landed on me, raking over every hidden curve of the body he had seen far too much of.
“I’m sorry, Feebee, that you feel I did the wrong thing.”
God...talk about a narcissist’s attempt at apologizing. He shouldn’t have bothered. Focusing on something better, Mercer’s strong jaw, now ticking with exasperation, I looked away from the heartless liar. A tear rolled from my eye, wiped away by the softest touch.
Mercer’s lips pressed a kiss to my forehead, staying on my frown as he typed another message, his eyes not leaving the man in the room with us.
I could feel all the rage vibrate through him as I clutched his jacket, and the leather-looking fabric crinkled beneath my touch.
“If anyone else comes here looking to abuse her, please tell them she’s changed address. Spare me the hassle of hunting them down to murder them for even thinking they could touch her.”
My uncle’s whole body twitched, a tsunami of fear building inside him, anxiety riding the wave.
He was fine hurting me, someone who couldn’t fight back. But he was nothing more than a weak little man when it came to someone like Mercer. Someone who was a foot taller than him. His body and the anger filling it, so much fucking stronger than anything my uncle possessed.
Mercer’s lips left me, and I instantly felt the loss. But that loss evaporated when his arms scooped me up into a princess hold.
“I didn’t like your apology.” I typed the words, and they sounded through Mercer’s speaker. His eyes fell on me, the darker, sharper flecks telling me he didn’t, either. It was nowhere near good enough.
He took the keyboard from me as a teal wingback, which stood out in the room, accepted my weight.
He pivoted to my uncle, who stared down at his blade. A million thoughts ran across his face as he wondered who to stab…himself, or should he try his luck with Mercer.
But before he could make that decision, Mercer pulled him from the bed by his scruff and pajama bottoms, causing a wedgie that left little to the imagination. I gagged. The sight of him, the smell of his fear as it leaked from his cock and put another stain in this room. It all made me sick.
A kick to his ass as he picked at his wedgie broke at least two knuckles—given the scream that shook the room—and landed him at my pink-painted toes.
“Apologize in a non-narcissistic manner this time.” Mercer stood behind him, ensuring he couldn’t retreat and grab the knife he'd dropped on his fall.
His hand, despite the agony in his fingers, rubbed at his ass, the pain there giving him only a hint of understanding of what I’d felt. His face was a blubbering mess as he looked up at me. But there wasn’t a tear in sight. It was an act, a good one, that I would have believed if he wasn’t sitting close enough to see the lie holding onto each of his aging features.
“I’m sorry. Your father brought this on us.”
He still couldn’t take responsibility for his actions. My eyes rolled, seeing all the happy memories of my dad, seeing the good in him, like when he let this homeless creep into our lives and home because he couldn’t travel elsewhere with so many burned bridges.
I returned my gaze to him. I no longer saw him through the eyes of a trusting child. I saw the here and now. I saw Mercer’s fingers pressing into Sam’s oily face. And I heard his words rumble through the speaker, the tone somehow conveying hate.
“I’m sure he’d love to know that his brother started raping his baby girl only days after he fucking died!”
Mercer’s nails punctured Sam’s skin, digging much deeper than Damiano had in mine. Garnet droplets ran down Sam’s cheeks like tears. Mercer only pushed harder, his fingers causing bruises and pain and his nails causing cuts and inevitable scars.
I didn’t care.
I just breathed through it.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sam suddenly put more effort into his apology, rapidly repeating the words until they became meaningless again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“I’m sorry, too.” Mercer pulled Sam’s head back, his fingers pulling out chunks of hair. Subconsciously, mine were doing the same, and that only pissed Mercer off more. All his anger showed in his tight expression, staring down at Sam’s ghostly face.
“Sorry that she’ll suffer from nightmares for the rest of her life. That she won’t be able to smell a fucking lemon without getting assaulted by bad fucking memories. Sorry that she won’t be able to think of her father because when she does, she scratches at her skin because he looks like you in every memory.”
Mercer’s hair was just as wild as Sam’s when he looked at me, sweat dripping from his brow. “Say goodbye to your uncle, Feebee.”
I blinked twice, my dry mouth unable to say anything as my eyes fluttered closed, not wanting to witness another death...even if I wanted this person dead.
“No, wait! You said if I apologized—”
“I lied. No one fucking hurts my girl.”
I heard the keypad hit the floor and then the snap of Uncle Sam’s neck ricocheted through all my bones, my teeth grinding to dust as I prayed with all I had that he wouldn’t haunt me as a ghost, no more than he had as a real-life monster.
His body fell to the floor...
And then, it was over.
A gentle touch landed on my knee, covering the tear of blood. The only tear I had shed for Sam.
“You okay?” Mercer mouthed, his body blocking the image of death from my eyes now that they were open.
I nodded again, taking my time with my breathing. “What are we gonna do about him?”
Mercer reached for the keypad and his fingers whizzed over the letters. “I have connections.”
“Then take me home.”