"Guess we disagree there, too," Ray says. "You could've helped it. You could've avoiding all of this by slitting that bitch's throat like you were supposed to. Isn't that what you said, Vitale? Make her choke on the filthy blood that created her."
I damn near flinch when he says it, the anger in his voice an echo of mine the first time I said those exact words. It was only months ago, weeks that somehow turned me into someone I don't know. I get Ray's confusion. How can he understand what I'm still coming to terms with? For damn near twenty years I dreamed of bleeding every single one of them dry, and now that it's within my reach, I hesitate.
No, I don't hesitate.
I change my mind.
I do a full reversal, a fucking one-eighty, practically overnight because of Karissa.
She's not just under my skin, she's in my organs, wrapped up in my cells, infecting me.
"I'm just trying to understand, Vitale," he says. "Just trying to understand how you can bear to breathe the same air as that girl and not spend every second of it thinking it should be my daughter breathing instead. That it should be your daughter, or your son, instead of Johnny's kid. How can you be with her, fuck her, do things with her you used to do with my daughter, and not still want to slit her fucking throat because of how unjust it is?"
I'm not sure what to say, how to respond to that. I sit there for a moment, not moving, still staring out the window. "She wasn't part of the original plan."
"Plans change."
"Exactly," I say. "And they've changed again. Killing her would make me no better than Johnny, and that's not the kind of man your daughter loved in the first place. Killing Karissa won't do Maria's memory any justice. Killing Karissa will just make it all worse."
I climb out of the car then, not bothering to thank him for the ride. I start to close the door, hearing his voice just before it slams between us. "Another thing we'll have to disagree on."
Standing on the curb, I watch as the limo pulls away, disappearing down the street. Shaking my head, I turn to the house, staggering that direction.
The first thing I see when I step inside, the first thing my eyes are drawn to, are the smears of dried blood all over the floor around my bare feet. I glare at the streaks of dark red, sighing exasperatedly, as Karissa steps into the foyer in front of me.
I close my eyes.
Deep breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I can't clean it up now.
I'll do it later.
Don't worry about it.
When I reopen my eyes, Karissa's right in front of me. She reaches around where I stand, securing the locks on the door, as I run my hands down my face.
It's probably senseless.
I'm not sure if Carmela knows where I live. It's not listed on my license, but if she knows, if she finds out, she now has a key to the place. I know she's smart, but she's also proven to be fearless, and that can be a deadly combination.
As if I weren't paranoid enough before…
Karissa helps me upstairs the best she can. I collapse on the bed on my back, legs hanging off the edge, as my eyes drift closed right away. I don't want to sleep, I shouldn't risk it, but I can't help it. She says something to me, her voice gentle, her fingers even gentler as they run through my chaotic hair, but I don't comprehend it.
The pull is too strong to fight.
Appear as you may wish to be.
I sleep deeply, long hours lost in the abyss, time slipping away, before I finally regain consciousness. I lay in the darkness and stare up at the ceiling as I blink rapidly, trying to come back around.
I'm alone in the room.
My head is pounding and my body feels like it's on fire. I don't dare move a muscle yet, eyes trailing the ceiling fan as it spins around and around, blowing a hint of cool air on my sweaty face.
I'm weak—so fucking weak it hurts to blink, taking every ounce of energy I have left to keep breathing. It would be too easy for someone to end my life today. I'm vulnerable, and susceptible, still alive for the moment but feeling like I've already got one foot in the grave.
I've felt that way for a long time, actually.
I wonder when the other foot will finally join it.
I'm still tired, but I need to stay awake, so I close my eyes to steel myself, gritting my teeth as I force myself out of the bed. Time waits for no man. The world won't just roll over and take it. I have to face it head on, pick myself up and trudge forward as long as I can.
I can't be weak.
I have to be strong.
My legs feel heavy but my footsteps are light, slow and measured, as I make my way downstairs. I head for the kitchen, the light on in that room, my mouth as dry as sand, my throat raw like scratched with sandpaper. Stepping in the doorway, I pause when I see Karissa standing at the counter beside the sink, haphazardly chopping some vegetables and throwing them in a pot on the stove.
She struggles with the knife as she massacres a carrot, the sections uneven, pieces flying all around. Shaking my head, I stroll into the kitchen, watching her with a morbid sort of amusement. "Nobody ever taught you how to use a knife?"