Tanner’s body parts are laying all over my bed, mangled, and the bones snapped as if she was chopped up.
She was chopped up.
“BEVERLY!” I bellow for the second time, hearing her door open and the soft pads of her feet hitting the wood floor.
“Yes, Daddy?”
I turn to find my daughter, standing in the doorway with what looks to be Tanner’s hair on her head. Bile rushes up from the pit of my stomach as I watch a drop of blood start to drip down her forehead.
Beverly is not okay.
“Why?” I’m not just asking about Tanner, I’m asking about every decision she’s made to lead her down this dark path.
“You’re mine.” She steps inside the room, and I finally see the manic look in her eyes. “This is what I’ll do to every woman you bring home, unless I deem them worthy of becoming a dolly.”
She’s not okay.
Maybe the poison in my blood was not diluted enough, maybe Heidi’s bloodline was more potent.
Heidi…
“Beverly, if the Four Regions hear about this, you will be exiled.”
“We don’t have to hunt for a while.” Her grin is sadistically eerie, completely ignoring my threat. “We have Tanner’s delicious meat. You enjoyed it so much today.”
What piece of me held off my vomit before, loses to this sudden rush, and I puke at our feet, pieces of cooked Tanner swirling through the mush.
“That was a waste,” Beverly tsks.
Beverly disappears from my doorway, the silky blonde strands of Tanner’s hair fanning out behind her, and I stare gaping at the sight. How did we get here? What do I do now?
It’s evident my daughter is not completely sane, and it has a lot to do with her obsession with wanting to be my wife. She’s damaged. Her mind is not right, and I know I won’t be able to handle her by myself.
I’ll have to hand her over to the Four Regencies for judgment, or I exile her beyond the territory line. There’s no one else to blame but me. I could’ve fought off her advances. She’s a young, impressionable girl who had no other interaction with the opposite sex. I was too weak.
I’m damaged, too.
The town will ask about what happened to Tanner. They knew she was coming here to stay with us. How will I tell them my own blood chopped Tanner to pieces and force fed me her flesh? I have two options. I either find her a husband and wash my hands of her, or I let her stand before the Four Regencies and plead for her damaged mind.
I look back to Tanner and know I have to once again tell the townsfolk another woman went missing. At least there’s a pattern. All the missing people are women, but if they are to look thoroughly through the patterns, they’ll see all missing women are connected here to this house.
To me.
I can’t let Bevie be blamed. There’s no other option. I need to find her a husband. Maybe if I find Hoyt and beg him to take her, she’ll move her obsession on to him. It will keep suspicions away about his sexuality and Bevie would eventually grow past this infatuation she has for me.
With one last look at Tanner, I close my bedroom door and send her a silent promise to come back and deal with her desecrated body. First, I need to get my daughter away from me and contain her lethal obsession.
She’s singing from her bedroom, and I hear Tanner’s name being uttered a few times, cringing when I envision her dancing around with her new blonde hair. I have to make Hoyt agree. I’ll even promise to visit once a week and ease her into a new, normal life.
I grab my jacket and head outside, rushing by my ax that’s sunken deep into my chopping block. The ax was put away in the shed, so I know Bevie’s sick mind left it there to put Tanner’s death on display.
Does it still have blood on it?
I rake my fingers through my hair and grasp onto the ends. I really fucked all of this up. No wonder Heidi left me here alone with our daughter. It was me who sent Beverly into her downward spiral.
I’m suddenly in front of Hoyt’s door and thoughts of Canary float through my mind. What did Bevie do to her? My knuckles rap on the door and I wait for a few minutes, my chest tightening more with each second.
The door opens and I look into Hoyt’s surprised features. “Did you find my mother?” His voice shakes with emotion and my heart plummets with it.
“No.” I swallow thickly. “But I came by to have a talk with you. It’s about what I proposed yesterday.”
“Marrying your daughter.” It’s a statement.
“Yes, I think it would benefit you both.”
“I agree.” He grabs his jacket, needing something to protect him from the sandstorm that’s brewing. “Let’s discuss it at your place.”
I open my mouth to ask him to stay here and I’d bring Bevie, but I don’t want to break the fragile agreement we’ve started.
“Sounds good.”
It sounds like a fucking terrible idea.
He closes his door behind him, and we begin walking at a leisurely pace, the sand swirling around our knees as the wind blows.
“Did you ever see that sign your daughter made?” he inquires, his hands deep in his pockets. “It’s ingenious.”
“Ingenious? How?”
“She found clay, tough stuff, hardens like concrete. I was thinking of asking her where she found it. It would make great roof material.” He sounds awed, and I hold on to hope that he’ll continue to feel that way about my deranged offspring.
“I should go take a look at it,” I hum.
“We could also start building a town border wall with it.” He scratches the growth on his chin. “Maybe it would be good for her to have a hand in something that important. She seems too sheltered.”
“That’s a great idea, and as her husband, you could explain that to her.”
His eyes shine with pride as we walk up the path to my house. He eyes the ax, his head moving to stare at it as we approach the front porch.
“Did you take your ax hunting?” he asks, making me wince.
“I used it to chop up the deer carcass,” I say nonchalantly. “Sometimes we use bone for the soup stock.”
“I see,” he murmurs, not sounding entirely convinced.
How much fucking blood is on that thing? I can’t look back at it now. It would be too obvious.
The front door opens, and Bevie stands there, her hand on her hip, and thankfully no bloodied blonde hair on her head.
“Daddy,” she coos, her smile wide with glee. “You brought over a guest.”
Hoyt steps up on the porch and gives her a thorough appraisal. “Hi, Beverly.” He holds out his hand. “My name is Hoyt.”
“Ah!” She latches onto his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Canary’s son. You look so much like her.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, suddenly looking bashful. Fuck, I hope this is a good sign.
“Come in!” She claps, opening the door wider. “We have some leftover roast from earlier. We don’t want it to go to waste, do we, Daddy?”
My stomach rolls at the thought of Tanner’s rump sitting in that casserole dish, but I swallow it down and hum my agreement. I watch Hoyt step inside and Bevie flashes me a look of contempt.
This is either going to be a perfect storm or a beautiful disaster.