Page 5 of Reckoning

“You never replied to my messages.” He says quietly.

I arch a brow. Really? Now he wants to have this conversation. It’s been over a year for Christ sake. “There was nothing to say.” I state.

He shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.”

I jerk my chin, feeling a flash of irritation. “This was meant to be cathartic, Hastings. Don’t ruin this for me.”

He lets out a sigh that feels so weighted. “Then promise me you will talk.”

“I have nothing to say.” I snap.

He folds his arms, letting out a huff of irritation but we both know I’m not lying. There is nothing to say.

It’s over. It’s in the past. All that they did to me, all that I endured, why the fuck would I want to divulge any of it? Why would I want to file police reports on the men that are still out there and stir up all that shit?

Besides, I was drugged most of the time, and those few memories I do have – no, I don’t want to visit them, I don’t want to relive them just so Verona can close off another sordid chapter. I refuse to become even more of a victim than I already am.

This city already knows I was forced to marry Otto, I’m sure plenty of them have spent many evenings imagining all the ways in which Otto himself hurt me. I don’t need to divulge the actual horror of it. I don’t need to make it publicly known what else he and his mates did. What further abuses I suffered.

No, I want my justice to be private. I want my vengeance to be mine. Only mine. I just need to bide my time and then I will have it on the terms that suit me.

I look back at him. The reflection of the flames makes his skin take on a strange orange hue that clashes with what little hair he has left. He must be in his late fifties. Every flicker of light catches in the deep set wrinkles on his forehead. Verona is so plastic fantastic that it’s odd to see a man who doesn’t try to hide his age, who doesn’t try to mask it.

“Are you planning on burning anymore of his properties down?” He asks.

The other properties all went to his previous two wives to be held in state for his two children. This house of horrors was the only one left to me, though we all know that wasn’t by Otto’s hand. No, a judge decided this would all be split ‘fairly’. My mind flickers to the ridiculous court date I still have to face, the one his other two wives are forcing. Both of them apparentlydowant all of his money and are willing to fight tooth and nail for it.

I shake my head, focusing my eyes back on the burning wreck in front of me. “I don’t own them.” I state. “Besides this was where…” I gulp swallowing those words. I can see from the look on his face that he understands what I was about to reveal.

“Good fucking riddance then.” He says.

And I can’t help it, I grin, staring back at the flames.

Good fucking riddance indeed.

Koen

It shouldn’t be this easy. It really shouldn’t.

And yet apparently these fuckers really do believe they’re untouchable.

The night is still early, I can hear the drunken laughter of tourists out enjoying the summer delights of this city.

There’s a carnival going on. Music is playing. The street is filled with performers dancing, twisting their half-naked bodies, while the crowd around them ooos and awwws accordingly.

But that’s not what’s got my attention.

Ahead, I can see a man, with a string of fake flowers hanging around his neck making his way through the crowd, pushing his way through like he’s on some sort of mission.

He doesn’t realise that I’m following him.

He doesn’t realise that he’s taking his very last steps of freedom. His last breaths of free air.

As he rounds the corner, I can see what’s got his attention, why he’s removed himself from all the fun of the carnival. Danny Boy has his sights on a different kind of fun.

The girl stumbles, leaning heavily against a brick wall as she stops to puke for what is undoubtedly not the first time. She gasps, wiping her mouth, and then continues onwards. I’d put money on her being a tourist. I’d put money on her drink being spiked too.

Her heels are so high that every step she makes seems to force her ankles to bow and I wonder how the bones don’t simply snap from the pressure.

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