Three Years(13)

So the devil has a heart. Is that better, or is it worse?

“Tell me,” he says gruffly, stabbing a needle into one of the vials again. “Tell me, did my boys know it was you before you killed them?”

A chill sweeps over my skin as I remember the look of shocked recognition in Chad’s eyes, while his heart seized in his chest.

“Yes,” I say thickly.

He sits back down in front of me, the flimsy, bare bed frame creaking under his weight. He looks at me from under his lashes as he plays with the full syringe in his hands. It’s double what he gave me the first time, if it’s the sedative he’s holding.

“Tell me,” he demands. “Tell me what it was like.”

I almost laugh, but catch myself. He wants to know what it was like? To watch the light die in Chad’s eyes? In Maxi’s? To hear the blast rip through the air and know I killed more of them? Or maybe he wants me to recount the day he picked me up from my home, my safe place, and stole me away. Perhaps he’d like to hear how I felt when his demon spawn took turns holding me down and fucking me half to death. While they made Jase watch. What it felt like to realize I wasn’t leaving there alive. How I wept when I realized I was going to die underneath the man who I’d called family, the man who was supposed to protect me from the evils in the world instead of delivering me to them.

What it was like to know my father died at his hands?

I don’t care what he’s asking, though, because my answer will remain the same. I’m not giving him one more ounce of my memories so he can feast upon my sadness with delight. I still have a minute amount of power here, despite being physically powerless.

No. I’m giving him absolutely fucking nothing.

I clench my jaw. “No.”

He smiles darkly, and it’s the first time I can see the hurt and the sadness under the malice in his expression. He reaches out and squeezes a hand around my arm again, my vein popping to attention, the needle sliding in with a sharp prick. Warmth floods me and my head lolls back. Too much.

I feel my heart begin to skip in my chest.

“You should’ve told me, Julie,” he says. “Now you’ve made me angry. Now you’re going to die.”

It’s the last thing I hear. I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Jesus, I can’t think. How much did he give me? He emptied an entire needle of that shit into me. Heroin. I think of my mother’s huge green eyes as my eyes fall closed and my body relaxes completely.

As I think, it’s not the worst way to die.





It’s the end for me. I can feel it. My heart thuds slowly before petering out to a whisper. And then…nothing. It’s quiet in here. Dark. Still.

I am at peace.

I feel acceptance. I feel relief.

Because it’s finally over.

Because I’m finally free.





When I wake up, I’m not in heaven.

I’m in hell.

Fuck.

Rough fingers skate along my collarbone, and I start to shake. Everything is so heavy. Even dragging my eyelids open is the biggest effort. I’m crying, and I don’t know why - but I feel so fucking sad.

It takes a moment to realize where I am. Lying on the bed, the one without a mattress, my wrists limp by my side, not bound for once. I’m not sure if my ankles are tied and I don’t have the energy to care. I don’t have the energy to do anything.

“Wakey, wakey,” Dornan coos in my ear, his breath hot on my neck. I tense, trying to pull away from him.

“Sleep well?” he asks, sitting back in the chair I was just tied to.

I just glare at him.

“You’ve been out for hours,” he says. “You must be hungry.”

I narrow my eyes, wondering where he’s going with that. As if he cares about my appetite.

“I should feed you my cock,” he says, laughing. “But those teeth, mmm-hmm. I don’t think I could risk those.” He strums his fingers on the side of the bed, seemingly upbeat. “I suppose I could break your jaw. That’d stop you from biting down.”

I ignore him. It’s just words. If he were going to do that, he would have done it by now. He’s just goading me.

The packages on the table beside him make me pause and think back to why I’m here in the first place, feeling like I just woke up from death. “You gave me a hotshot,” I slur. “I thought I was dead.”

He smiles, showing a set of straight white teeth that would rip my flesh from my bones if it took his fancy. “You were dead. I brought you back.” He holds up a cardboard package that says NARCAN on it, and I stiffen. Holy Shit. That wasn’t a close call. He really did kill me and bring me back to life. I was dead.