Chapter 12

R esentment is like a leech. It sticks, and will give back nothing in return. There is no bartering with animosity. Fury is fierce – hate , much stronger than love – and it will eat you up.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She wanted nothing but to be loved, and love in return. She never found what she was looking for, and instead, lived a life full of sadness and misfortune. That is, until one day, the little girl grew up to be a pissed off woman. She didn't need a knight, she needed a sword.

I never asked for what happened to me. I've asked God, and he never replied. Sometimes, I think that heartache is inevitable. It took all of this hurt to find my strength. And, though I'm still weak, I know that this is it. This is probably the strongest I'll ever be.

My arm feels heavy as my knuckles linger over the red door. My palms sweat while my knees tremble.

“This is it. What are you waiting for?”

I look over my shoulder, and I realize that while his voice was present, he's nowhere to be seen. Maybe I've been alone all along. Maybe I've finally lost my mind and gave into the void that's been calling me for years.

I was lost, and Rowan was the compass. The crow still lingers, though. I can see its glowing eyes from the lamp -post.

It doesn't take long after I knock before the door creaks open, and a frown spreads across my mother's face. Rolling her eyes, she pushes the door open the rest of the way before turning and leaving me standing on the doorstep.

I glance towards the crow once more before closing the door and being surrounded by the unwelcoming silence that plagues this house. It's never been a home, though it seems to be with photos lining the walls, comfortable rugs placed throughout, and throw blankets placed strategically on the L-shaped sectional.

No, this house has never been a home. It's seems pretty, but it's like a tomb. Every time I step inside this place, I feel claustrophobic, which is why I haven't been back here in years.

Their beautiful lawn, and their beautiful house, and their beautiful things – they hide the ugliness that lives here, just likes their faces hide the monsters that they are. Our demons live in the walls and behind locked doors. Mom made it clear to never let it be known. Our atrocities were ours. They were shared, between the three of us.

“Emmy, baby girl, where have you been?” Liam says as my eyes stay locked on the pictures in front of me. To anyone else that ever stepped into this facade and saw them, I had a great childhood. If they only knew what lived behind that show of teeth.

He grips my shoulder, and my fingers tighten around the metal vase in front of me. I'm not sure what it's made of, but its heavy. Heavy enough to get the job done.

“Baby?” He whispers, his hot breath blanketing my shoulder. It makes me shiver from disgust.

The crack against his skull reverberates off the walls, and the sound of his large body hitting the hard floor makes my stomach lurch. I'm not done. I can't be.

I'm like a robot, my movements controlled by rage as I hit him in the head several more times. Like a magnet, I feel the pull of her eyes. It doesn't take long for mine to find them. She sways side to side in her drunken stupor, her face formed into a frown as she tries to piece together the scene in front of her.

I don't let her speak. She's at the point of drunkenness where whatever she says wouldn't make sense anyway. I walk over to her, my eyes narrowed as I clutch the vase.

“Emily,” she slurs, her bloodshot eyes finding mine. “What’s going on?”

I smile, my grasp tightening around the metal. “Goodnight, mom.”

It takes them several minutes after I tied them up to come to. First mom, who attempts to scream through the duct tape, then Liam. It takes him longer. My guess is its because of the number of blows he received.

Kneeling in front of mom, my head cocks to the side as her wide eyes shimmer with anguish. “What's wrong?” I whisper, running a finger along her smooth cheek. “Did you think you'd get away with what you did? With what you allowed?”

“And you,” I whisper, standing and walking around to Liam. They're tied, back to back. His dark eyes narrow as I kneel in front of him, rivulets of dried blood staining his forehead. “I hope you find a very special place in hell.” I'm compelled to rip the tape from his scruffy face, and he cries out. “You little cunt ! Crazy fucking bitch! You'll go down for this!”

I smile, though I'm sure it doesn't meet my eyes as I shake my head. “I don't care.”

The pliers are in one hand, the paring knife in the other as I look at this man with contempt. Every ounce of rage and discontent that I've felt over the years are presented, right now, in this moment. My hatred is on the table, and it isn't going anywhere. I'm going to finish this.

He can't cry out anymore once I've wrestled the pliers into his mouth. He can only groan as I clamp down onto his tongue, pressing the knife against the muscle as I stare into his eyes.

“The words that have dripped from this tongue have scarred me for too long. You're a monster.”

Sawing into his tongue makes me sick, yet at the same time, I feel the sadness escape. It's been caged for so long. I couldn't stop holding on.

Some bridges are meant to be burnt, and in this case, must be obliterated. This family, this existence – this perfect little package they've managed to wrap us all in is being exposed. This is my destiny.

I examine the tongue as he sobs uncontrollably in front of me. My eyes flit towards him, and I watch in amazement as this person, this creature, falls apart in front of me. I've gone this far at this point, and though I should stop, I don't. I murder the two people that destroyed me. Slitting their throats and watching them bleed. Suddenly, I realize that this wasn't how it was meant to be.

The white rug in the living room blooms red, and I think about what mom would think. She'd freak out. She loved that rug. And Liam... he would stand here, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

I fall to my knees, my empty eyes staring towards mom and Liam. They're tied together, the duct tape is taut between them as they both hunch over. Blood staining their necks and chests, and no life to be seen as they stare at their laps wide eyed.

“Is this what needed to be done?”

The voice should startle me, but it doesn't. Something tells me that I'm stuck in a dream.

Red and blue lights illuminate the room through the windows and I hug my knees to my chest.

“Twigs ?”