Page 11 of Beneath Her Skin

“That wouldn’t be as satisfying, though. And it would draw attention to the carnival.”

Hmmm, I don’t want to kill him in the trailer. Maybe I can find somewhere nearby? There are some densely wooded areas towards the back of the property.

“That might work. We can take a peek a little later.”

Moving deeper into the shadows, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my senses heightened. I’m the predator now, stalking my prey through the darkness. The man is still oblivious, too caught up in his own desires to notice the danger lurking just out of sight.

The voice is a growl now, its words a low, menacing rumble.“We need to get him alone, Nova. Get him away from the crowds. We don’t want any witnesses.”

Not now. Tonight. We will do it tonight.

I spot a narrow alleyway between two of the carnival’s storage tents, the entrance hidden behind a tattered banner. I stop for a moment and catch my breath, trying to clear my mind. My voice agrees, its tone a cold, calculated whisper. “Now to figure out how to lure him away. What can we do to get his attention?”

I know exactly how to lure him away. Men like him only want one thing. Pussy. They want to feel like Kings. But first, I want to make sure that his wife and child know they will be safe.

“You are such a softie.”

If only someone would have done that for me and my family. Maybe my life would have been different if someone had helped us.

“You’d still have me in your head.”

I move swiftly, my feet silent on the dusty ground, emerging from the alleyway and spotting them. The man is still chatting up the other performer, his back is turned to me and his family. His child dances back and forth, desperate to use the bathroom. The woman touches the back of his arm with hesitation and brings attention to the boy. Her husband draws in a deep breath and turns to her, giving her a strained yet annoyed smile. Pointing to the bathroom, he shoves his wife in the direction and turns back around to continue his talk with the female performer.

Now’s my chance to talk to them.

“Don’t fuck this up, Nova. Be sure that they aren’t too far gone. Sometimes the Stolkholm syndrome is too deep.”

2

The voice seethes with anger, watching him, its words a constant stream of disgust.“He’s a pig, Nova. He’s got no respect for his own wife, let alone other women.”

My focus is on the woman and her child and the dynamics that play out before me. The woman tries to keep up a cheerful facade, but I can see the fear lurking behind her eyes. The little boy clings to her leg, sensing her distress.

That poor child. I was once that child and if my brother would have been alive, it would have been him too. I lived in constant fear of being beaten. I see myself looking back at me.

The bathrooms are a small building on the outskirts of the property. The woman takes the little boy with her on the woman’s side. I follow them inside, my eyes scanning the crowded stalls. I spot them entering the largest stall at the end, and I rush over, pushing open the door before she can latch it and step inside.

The woman looks up, startled, as I push her and the little boy deeper into the stall, then turn to lock it. My voice is a driving force, pushing me to confront them.“Ask her, Nova. Ask her if she’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” I demand, my voice low and urgent. "That man, your husband... does he hurt you? Does he hurt your boy?”

The woman’s eyes well with tears, and she nods, a sob bursting from her lips as she grips her child’s hand and the other balled into a fist. A gut-wrenching sob, you can feel that she has been keeping inside for who knows how long. “Y-yes,” she stammers, her voice the faintest whisper. “He does.”

The woman hesitates, then slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a mass of bruises and scars. I feel a fresh wave of rage wash over me, the voice echoing my fury.“He’s a monster, Nova. He’s a motherfucking monster, and he needs to be stopped.”

I pull the woman into a hug—something I don’t typically do—holding her tightly as she breaks down in a fit of sobs. The little boy clings to her leg, looking up at me with wide, frightened eyes. My voice is a soothing whisper inside my head, its words a gentle reassurance to the swirling emotions threatening to consume me.“Tell her it will be over soon. Tell her she’ll be safe and that the child will be safe. She needs to know she no longer has to be afraid.”

Like how I’m safe now.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, soothing the woman with gentle pats on her back. “Soon, it will all be over. You’ll be safe, and he’ll never hurt you again.”

The woman looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “W-what do you mean?” she stammers.

The voice urges me to give her instructions.“Tell her, Nova. Tell her what to do.”

“When you go home tonight, your husband will leave again,” I say. “And when he does, I want you to take your son to the neighbors’ house or if you have family nearby, go there. Can you do that for me?”

The woman looks at me, confusion etched on her face. “W-why?” she asks, her eyes dropping to the child on her leg.

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