Page 64 of Kick

“All this time, I’d built you up in my head,” I say. “I’d see you in my dreams, hovering over me, pushing into me. I’d feel your sweat. I could feel how evil you were, and each time you came inside me I wanted to die.” I level my gaze on him, feeling the shift within me. The victim takes a back seat. He feels it too. I see it in his eyes.

“I don’t want that anymore. You’re just a man, and for the first time since you took me, I’m going to sleep soundly tonight, because I got to hear you scream. I’m not afraid of you anymore. I found something bigger than you.”

He laughs. It’s a fake and showy sound. “Your biker?”

“No.Me.”

“And there’s the girl we were trying to find.” He smiles. “There’s the woman worthy of being called the sacrifice. If we hadn’t found you, you’d have never found that. You should thank me.”

“Oh, I plan to. I plan to repay every single scream that left my mouth.”

Kick shoots me a look, questioning whether I want to go through with this. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I nod. He hands me his knife—not the tiny one I cut the priest with before, but the kind you know is really a knife, with a wicked blade, sturdy handle, and a deadly sharp point.

“How do you like hunting now, Father?” I ask, as I take the knife and thrust it into his abdomen. Blood spurts out and sprays my face, my hair, my body, but I don’t care. I drive it in to the hilt, relishing the way his body jerks, savouring the screams.

Kick just stares at me. It’s as though he’s drunk on euphoria, and then he closes the distance between us and I’m caught up in his arms, my face in his hands, and the barrel of the gun grazing my cheek as he holds it. He kisses me, full on the lips, and then he releases my face with a smile.

I can’t think about that right now, the fact that violence excites him. This isn’t about gutting a man for kicks. This is retribution.

I pick up one of the three cans of gasoline that Kick had brought in. I unscrew the cap and douse the Priest in it. He screams as it hits the wound in his belly. Kick takes the other two cans and begins splashing kerosene through the church, over the aisle, the pews, the statues, everything. When he’s done, he moves behind me and begins pouring the second can around the marble altar. It really is a beautiful cathedral, and once upon a time I may have been repulsed by the thought of anyone destroying such a sacred place, but this place isn’t sacred. It’s just a building, and it’s tainted with the evil of its priest. It’s no longer a place in which to worship God, it’s a place forhimto be venerated, and I’ll be dead before I ever let that happen.

“I remember you used to go on and on about how you were born of fire when your father gave you that cross, when he burned your tiny little body with a cattle brand. It’s another thing I never stop seeing in my dreams, that scar on your back. But you should be careful what you reveal to people, Father.” I lean in and whisper, “Especially when it comes to your worst fears.”

His face slackens with horror and realisation. I smile and pull the matchbox from the pocket of my pants. “Are you ready to be born of fire again?”

“You can’t touch me … I am God’s servant and you are the sacrifice. You cannot interfere with divine intervention.”

“There is no divine intervention, not for you—only death. You picked the wrong girl to sacrifice. I’m not a lamb you can lead to the slaughter, Father, I’m a motherfucking lioness.” I stand back and strike the match. It feels as if the world spins in slow motion as I throw that tiny flame on his body. The screams begin, and I close my eyes. The flames are bright behind my lids. I don’t need to see to savour this moment. Iamthis moment. And I’m glorious in my destruction.

Somewhere in the back of my brain I register Kick screaming at me to move, and his arms on me tugging me back from the pyre, but if he was drunk on euphoria after I stabbed the Priest, I’m drowning in it. I’m pulled back through the vestry and my feet are burning, but I’m not as worried about that as I am that I won’t get to hear him scream.

Then I realise it’s not the Priest’s shouts of horror I’m hearing at all, but Kick’s. The Priest has already stopped moving, stopped breathing. He’s no longer there, and I’m no longer exultant in my revenge.

I’m shaking.

I’m broken.

I’m on fire.

Kick drags me through the vestry and out onto the grass behind the burning church, digging up the earth with his bare hands to douse the flames on my feet. The flames licking my pant legs have already gone out. I don’t tell him that, though. Instead, I bury my head in my hands and sob. I let go of everything that that monster did to me, everything I remember about those hands, and the delight in those eyes as he shoved himself inside me. I let go of me.

“We gotta move,” Kick says, crouching down beside me. “Can you walk?”

I nod, and let him help me to my feet. They hurt, my burned flesh smarts, but it’s not the worst pain I’ve endured. I stare at the flames, and then Kick and I make our way towards the car parked across the street. He uses the fob to unlock it and climbs in the driver’s seat. I reach for the handle, but see my reflection in the passenger’s side window. I’m surrounded by flames. They lick against the night sky as the woman stares back at me. Her eyes are vacant, devoid of anything … soulless. Her face is covered in blood, her hair matted with sweat. I can’t be sure, but I imagine this was what I looked like when Kick found me, only then the blood covering my face was my own.

Kick gets out of the car and glares at me over the roof. “Hear those sirens, babe? That means the cops are coming. Get in the car.”

I glance at my reflection again. This woman isn’t me. I’m not a killer. I’m not a warrior, or a goddess resplendent in her havoc. I’m just a girl who did what I had to in order to sleep at night. I’m a monster. I’m exactly what they all made me. Even Kick.

“No.”

“Get in the fucking car, Indie.”

“Let me go, Daniel.” He’s on the other side of the vehicle, but I know he knows I’m not talking about him releasing me physically.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, staring at my reflection again. I feel like Alice through the looking glass, as if I’m staring at a different me in a different world, and wondering how I get back to my regular life. “What does it matter? I’m walking away, regardless.”

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