I never told anyone, not even Theo. It was like an impulse, an obsession that rolled around in my head whenever there was an opportunity for quiet.
“Hey,” Theo said, flicking my nose. It was Christmas Day, just above freezing on a day filled with gloomy cloud coverage and twinkling lights trying to break through the fog.
The Lewis’s decorated well for the festivities, my mother enjoying lording it over other families on the street. Everything was classy, expensive and cold. No color, no silly figures or blow-up snowmen marring our house. Only bright white lights, thousands of them, and tasteful décor.
I craved the colorful, so when it was possible, Theo would sneak me away to walk through the village with me and gawk at the kaleidoscopic decorations everyone else had. The house was very near London, my mother often assured herself, but with the ‘perfect village feel’. I never knew whether to be glad for it or not. If the crowds were easier to get lost in, or if this semi-quiet was better.
“Why aren’t you smiling at the little woodland creatures all lit up?” Theo asked, nodding his head to the scene before us. “Those are always your favorite.” His hand slipped into his pocket, and he handed me another piece of the gingerbread fudge he’d swiped from the kitchen. I wasn’t allowed any, so each bite was a delicious, illicit treat.
Even with this sense that something bad was coming making my stomach squeeze, I ate the fudge, closed my eyes and savored it.
Theo and Charlie were back from the US, Theo almost done with college at twenty-one. I should be thinking about it too, imagining all the places I could go, all the things I could learn. But instead, my mother and father were even more standoffish with me, and the sympathetic looks I got from the nannies had grown tenfold. Everyone knew something I didn’t.
“That one’s missing a leg,” I said, pointing to the deer closest to us, all bright lights and wicker warped into shape. Only three legs, like the fourth had rotted away.
“Oh yeah.” He tilted his head. “So it is.”
I was sick. My mother should be missing a leg. I should rip it from her hip and beat her over the skull with it, shove it into her throat and–
An arm snaked around me, pulling me into comforting warmth. God, I missed Theo. Since he’d left, life had grown bleaker and bleaker. The only time any light shone on me was when I was in his attention, in his sights.
“Do you want to go back?” he asked in a low voice, like he knew something was up but didn’t want to pry. “I saw an inflatable Santa on my way in, but if you’re not enjoying yourself…”
“No.” I shook my head. “I would like to see more.”
He kissed the top of my head and smiled against my hair. “I knew you would. He even sings jingle bells when you walk past him.”
Just for a tiny bit longer, I let myself soak up his warmth, let myself enjoy being in the arms of someone who loved me. Whatever was coming my way, I would have to face alone, but in this moment, I had him.
“Let’s go.”
I’m going to kill them all.
The vicious idea played around in my mind as Theo hefted me up from the platform and I forced my legs to move, willed my body to function for just a few minutes more. But only for him, only for the man who’d swooped in at the last second and stopped me doing something permanent.
I’d wanted to go. To leave. Even when I heard his voice in the distance, I had myself convinced it was a mirage, a fake out, something my brain was tricking me with.
I wanted to go.
Connor urged us along, demanding we keep our heads down as we rushed through the panicked crowds, using their confusion and chaos as cover. I think he’d used his power in this city, done something to get us free, but my mind was too overwhelmed with what I’d just done to focus on his deceptive ways.
Kill them all. Kill them all. Each and every one. Do to them what they did to me. All of it. My heart beat faster at the prospect, and all of a sudden, all those terrible things done to me weren’t so scary; they were inspiration. I remembered it all, each cut and scar and beating, all the touches I didn’t want, every single time I’d been penetrated while sobbing for it to stop.
That was my new mantra. My reason to live and dam well thrive. My mind was there, trying to get there, but my body… my body was a mess.
As the car Connor had mustered up sped away from the scene of chaos we’d left behind, I let that realization sink into my bones. With Theo’s hand on my thigh and Connor in the front seat barking directions at the driver, at someone on his phone, at the damned air, I saw what my future would be.
Short. Long. It would be bloody.
Theo just watched me. His thumb brushed gentle circles on my inner thigh, but nothing more. His eyes, though, his gaze. I saw genuine glee there, just like what was bubbling away inside me. When our eyes met, it was only pleasure between us, a sick excitement. He got it. He understood. He’d been with me. Saw what I was going to become in the same second I did. And he was here for it. I knew that. His touch zipped electricity through me, our shared desire.
In the moment, that split-second I decided not to die, I’d come to the realization that it wasn’t enough to leave then. I needed revenge. For everyone. Not just for me, but for all the women ripped to shreds by this life. My mother, my sisters, Rafe’s already dead wives. Everyone. Dying was giving up, and that sounded delicious, warm and comforting, but unsatisfying. But the idea of ending Rafe? Ending every single one of those evil bastards who’d touched me, who touched other women without their consent? Damn. That was the best idea in the world. The life I was about to give up on came rushing back into me, painful and vibrant.
“Mm,” I moaned without meaning to, shifting in my seat at the thought of slitting Rafe’s throat, of watching the blood he loved drip from his body and pool at my feet. I should be surprised at how demented I was, but he’d nurtured it in me, what was already there. He’d broken me down to my bones and forced me to live in that pit, of course I turned into this. He brought it out when he decided to torture me. Oh, the things I was imagining doing to him. He had it all coming.
“Violet.” Theo’s touch lifted from my thigh, and he grasped my hand, slotting our fingers together and squeezing. I looked down at where we were connected, both of us with crusts of dried blood on our skin. I squeezed back, almost too hard. “Are you good?” he asked, his voice low just for me.
I didn’t have to consider the question at all; I answered him right away. “Yeah, Theo. I’m good actually.” For a second, I frowned, then I laughed before biting it back. Inappropriate joy bubbled in my chest, relief. I was covered in a man’s blood. I’d killed someone, committed the worst of crimes and felt nothing but glee about it. Connor couldn’t know that about me. No one but Theo was allowed to see this new me forming. But it wasn’t willing to hide, I had to fight it off.
