I prop my elbows on the table and drop my head on my hands as memories shred my mind. Wraith sits across from me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t, not when shame and rage and anguish are tearing me apart.
“That morning, oh my God, that morning…” My laugh is bitter. “I was in the kitchen, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. For breakfast. Because that’s all we had in the house, and the bread had mold on it, because of course if did. Everything in that house was just rotten. I had to rip the nasty green corner off. But I didn’t get a chance to eat that stupid sandwich.” I shake my head, a shudder of disgust running through me, and I finally look at him. “I can’t even stomach the smell of peanut butter anymore. It makes me want to puke.”
I sit back, my spine straight. Images of that morning are so vivid in my mind, it’s like I’m watching a movie of my life play out in all its disgusting and gory details.
“I was starving because I hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. When he came in the kitchen, I knew I was in trouble. I could sense it. You know?” The words tumble out of my mouth, fast now. Thoughtlessly as I watch that movie only I can see. Watch what’s happening in that kitchen like it’s not me, but an actor playing the role of me. “He hovered in the doorway, just staring at me. He was always staring, Wraith.Always.And then he was behind me. His dirty hands on me. He told me to be a good girl. To behave so he wouldn’t have to hurt me. But hewashurting me. And then he turned me around. He turned me around, and he stunk of sweat and liquor. His breath was gross. His hands were all over me, fumbling with the hem of my dress. Then one hand was on my thigh. Pinching so hard. I screamed inside my head from the pain. He moved his hand higher, and I was scared. I was so scared because this was it. I knew it.I knew it. He was going to ruin me. Take every last thing from me.”
I’m shaking. My words trip over themselves as pain flows out of my soul. I glance at Wraith, and he’s sitting so still, his expression unreadable. His hands are folded on the table. I wish I could reach inside and pull out some of his strength and take it into myself because I hate that I feel small and vulnerable.
“The drunken bastard stumbled over his own feet, and we fell. I don’t know how I did it, but I grabbed a knife out of the block on the counter. I wasn’t thinking, Wraith. I just reached out, and it was in my hand. He dropped on top of me and unzipped his pants. I still feel his weight pinning me against the cracked linoleum. Then I felt it, rubbing me between my legs. My hand came up. Not on its own. Not a mindless reaction. I knew exactly what I was doing when I stuck the knife in the side of his neck. His weight came off me, and he was gasping. Making these awful sounds. But he wasn’t dead. So, I sat there, covered in his blood, and waited. I watched him bleed to death.”
Maybe my sudden laughter comes from a damaged place inside me. Some broken part of me that can never be put back together.
“First thing I did was take a shower. That was the first time in sixteen years—sixteen years—I didn’t have to worry if he was going to burst in the bathroom. When I was done, I put on the nicest dress I owned. Do you know why?”
Wraith shakes his head, his voice dry when he answers. “No, Jamie, I don’t.”
“I knew that would be the last time I saw you, and I wanted to look pretty.” I gaze up at the clouds floating across the sky. “I called Sheriff Warren and told him I killed my father. And then I went to school to say goodbye to you.”
Finally done, I’m spent. Emotionally bled to the bone.
And yes, cleansed.
Wraith stalks around the table to straddle the bench beside me. “You are extraordinary.”
My laughter is laced with a lifetime of bitterness. “I’m so broken.”
“Yeah, well, you and me both.”
“What a pair we make.”
He kisses my forehead. “Yep. Two fucked-up, lunatics.”
“But you know what? Those eight years away from Mayhem weren’t all bad.”
“No?”
I shake my head, smiling as I think about the few good memories I made during those lost years. “I mean, they weren’t like, woohoo, awesome, but they weren’t terrible, either. Orlando has these tent cities where the homeless live. That’s where I met Thomas and Roger. When the noise and grime and congestion became too much, we went on a sort of retreat to Ocala National Forest. We spent a year there, living off the land. You should have seen me, hunting squirrels and raccoons. Even ate a few foxes. I hated them, but Roger liked them. I was the bootleg version of Katniss, complete with crappy aim.”
“Who’s Katniss?”
I cast him a skeptical frown. “You don’t know Katniss Everdeen?”
“Should I?”
I roll my eyes. “Never mind.”
“Come on.” Wraith lifts me off the bench.
“Where to now, Mr. Chauffeur?”
“Home.” He hauls me against him, thrusting his hips against mine. “Gotta fuck you. It’s either happening here or in our bed. Don’t think you want to go ass up in plain sight, but hey, lady’s choice.”
I give him a devilish grin and trail my finger down his torso, right down to the erection straining in his jeans. I cup him and go up on my tiptoes to whisper against his lips, “How fast can you drive?”
“Like fucking lightning.”
And damn it all if Wraith doesn’t get us back to his house and in the bedroom in record time. We’re like two kids racing past Jester, who sticks his head out of his bedroom and groans with exaggerated feigned disgust as we stumble down the hallway. By the time we make it to the bedroom, we’re half-naked, kissing, and I realize two important facts.
