Page 44 of Where the Dark Things Bloom

So I did.

I killed for her. Whispered his prayers while carving into flesh, breathing life into this cursed house. I made it alive. But something in me died, and nothing, not even her, can bring it back.

She paused in the center of the room. Her eyes locked onto the chains… where her father hung. Where my mother twitched in silence, still trying to escape. Her ex-boyfriend—he was nearly ready. I just had to wait for the blood to drain so I could place him in the wall with the others.

They reek less when they’re drained.

I’m sick. Sick, sick, sick. And even sicker without her. The voices, they never stop. They wrap around my mind, whispering violence, feeding my hunger to kill. To slash throats. To end it all.

But not her.

The voices like her.

We like her.

Nagi was already curled on the table, coiled like a secret. More snakes waited in the box beneath the altar, each one chosen, collected over the years. I always knew I’d need them.

She stood at the edge of the room, her gaze drifting across the horror. Her eyes welled. “What… what did you do?”

I laughed. “I did it for you.”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Why would you do this?” Her voice cracked. “You psycho!”

She spun, palms pressed to her mouth, trying to slip past me.

But I caught her.

Her fists pounded my back as I slung her over my shoulder.

“Let me go!”

I sat her at the table beside my pet snake. Grabbed a rope from the floor and tied her wrists tight, the knot biting deep into her skin.

“There,” I growled. “Try to run and you’ll hang like the rest.”

“Are they…” her voice trembled, lips quivering, “are they alive?”

“Yup.” I strolled over to my mother, and gave her body a shove so it swung gently. She whimpered.

Bitch lost her tongue.Talked too much.

“You’re sick,” Lenore shrieked. “Crazy, Dorian!”

I laughed again. The sound echoed. Circling the room, I dropped to my knees in front of the altar, pressing my palms together, lips twitching with a broken sort of devotion. From beneath it, I pulled the black book. Returned to her. Dropped it on the table with a dull thud.

“Your father had a dream,” I said, grinning. “A sick dream.”

I exhaled slowly.

“He thought if he killed his virgin daughter and drank her blood, he’d live forever. And the rest of them, his little cult of believers, they thought the same. Sacrificing their daughters one by one. Sons were curses. But daughters?” I laughed bitterly. “Blessings in disguise.”

“They wanted to kill you, Lenore,” I hissed. “They wanted to end you.”

I turned, voice rising.

“And I stopped them. All of them.”

She stared at me, barely breathing. “What do you mean…all?”

---