Page 10 of Blood Queen

“Are you serious?” I wail.

“Kid, do it,” he orders. His authority is overwhelming. So, I obey.

I do it, and I’m horrified. It’s difficult to witness someone else do it, but it’s really disturbing doing it yourself.

So disturbing that I don’t utter a single word to Papa the entire walk home with that stupid doe dragging behind us.

I know I need to know how. He won’t be around forever, but maybe I won’t live in the wilderness forever either. Right? Maybe I will move to a city and eat in restaurants every night if I please, never hunt for food again.

I glare in stubborn silence as he hoists the deer up so that the hind legs are barely touching the ground.

I watch as he cuts all the way up through the ribs to one side of the sternum and lets the innards fall out before hosing it offto get rid of the rest of the dirt, debris, and blood in silence. And only then, when he turns to face me, do I speak.

“I never want to do that again.”

“It’s life, Kid. Survival. You want meat—you gut the animal,” he responds, but I’m already halfway to the cabin.

He doesn’t call me back to him. I dart inside and strip my clothes off. My hair is sweaty and stuck to my head as I turn on the shower. I just want all this filth washed off.

I know he’s right. I don’t mind hunting or eating the meat, just dislike the steps in-between, and I know, as I shampoo my hair into a giant sudsy lather, that he let me get away without having to gut and clean an animal for longer than necessary. I’m seventeen. I should have been doing this years ago. Still, I don’t like it.

Papa is waiting for me in the kitchen. “You had to learn,” he says quietly.

I don’t look at him. “I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

“Killing is a necessary part of life, Kid.” Papa sidles up to me, squeezes my shoulder gently.

“It’s not the killing part. It’s the blood. The gutting part. It makes me feel dirty,” I answer.

He locks eyes with me. “One in the same. If you don’t gut the animal, you don’t get the meat. If you kill the animal without using it for food, it’s just murder. And in life, there will be many things you won’t like doing.”

I sigh and roll my eyes, but he’s right and I know it. Killing for the sake of killing ismurder. Killing for the sake of survival is not. He’s said this before many, many times.

“Okay. How about this: I understand but I won’t ever do it because I like it. It will always be gutting under protest.”

Papa grins at me, then looks down to his boots. “You’re the best part of my life, Kid.”

And just like that, I’m filled up. Brimming with contentment and joy. Papa heads back outside to finish harvesting the meat, and I slide on an old pair of sneakers to go weed the vegetable garden.

Our life is simple but good.

That night, Papa turns on the radio during dinner. It doesn’t happen often, although when I was younger, I’d beg him to turn it on and dance with me and I’d stand on his feet while he moved us around, but tonight he must be feeling happy because he leaves it on all through dinner and well into our reading time afterwards.

7

Present

At the airport, I change into more comfortable clothes and trash what I had been wearing. I switch my return flight to Atlanta instead of Miami. Five hours later, I’m in Georgia and driving a cozy street lined with lovely quiet houses.

I park my car across from his house which radiates a warm welcome. Lush greenery stretches along either side of the central front door, glossy leaves stroking the ground-floor window sills.

It’s a little after six am now and the sun is just beginning its ascent. I lift the fake rock at the side door and let myself in. His distinct scent hits me so aggressively that I almost tear up at the comfort it brings.

In the living room, I run my fingers over the spines of his book collection. I pull one out just enough to see that the journal wrapped in a random hardcover book jacket is still there. Hidden on a shelf, pretending to be something it’s not. He’d kill me if he knew. The history of us.

I toe off my shoes and pants as I head toward the staircase. I drop my shirt on the landing. He won’t have much time before work at this point. Opening the door to his bedroom, I watch him for a moment, sleeping so soundly. Instantaneously, everything inside me rights itself.

I sneak across the carpeted floor, lift the blankets, and slide in next to him. He gives a sleepy groan as my arms snake around him.

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