Page 23 of Judas

Abruptly, which makes her jump, my body moves back into a comfortable position on the chaise, ready to get the remainder of my therapy session over.

“That’s what it was like being under my father’s control. Twenty-four seven. Of course, there was much more than that, but that’s all I’ll be discussing with you.”

Lawrence came to fetch me at the end of my session, punctual as ever—I believe Mavis and I got in a good ten or fifteen minutes before he started knocking. He’s quite dependable in that manner, being punctual and all. You know, I actually feel a bit lighter after Mavis’s therapy session. We did end up choosing a different topic, once she got past her apprehension, of course. Aka, I scared her half to death. People don’t appreciate what an intense shot of adrenaline can do for the body. I’ve experienced it a few times, the calm it gave me at the end could be rehabilitating.Could.

Currently on the way back to my cell, I hum along to a beat that the chains dangling between my feet, down from my cuffed wrists, have created. Some of the prisoners listen to music, but this tune is quite a bit older than them. Even I can’t truly namethe song but it’s ingrained in my head; something that may have played through the house we lived in when I was a child. But I just can’t place it, still I hum.

By the time I step into my cell, after the loud clanging of the metal bars sliding shut and latching, I sigh out a long and audible breath. Maybe I’ll read a book today, now that my semi-terrible session with Mavis is out of the way. It’s been quite some time since I’ve picked up a novel, and there’s nothing like getting lost between the lines. Explaining what it’s like to picture a scene from a story in your head, then allow yourself to become immersed in the experience, is difficult to articulate. How do you tell someone you can smell the scent of burning rubber or a tiramisu that you’ve only read about? Or the cries of creatures that hide in the wood? The feel of someone's thinning flesh as the main character holds the hand of a dying family member—without sounding like a lunatic?

I should probably embrace it.

Rubbing my scar-shredded wrists, my feet carry me further inside, which isn’t much due to the tiny size of this cell. Yet, I can sense that my space has been disturbed. There is a telling shift in the air; as if a person’s presence lingers awkwardly behind to spite me. But, if that wasn’t all, the thick envelope sitting on my pillow is one hell of a giveaway.

Marching over, my hands snatch it up immediately and rip into the mockingly similar colored paper— orange. When I reach to pull out the contents, this tiny world I live in comes to a screeching halt.

“My my, what do we have here?”

Chapter eight

Judas

A Few Weeks Ago

For a child, her little body is heavy.

Not only did I have to physically fight Sadie in our initial interaction, but now she’s out so cold that waving rubbing alcohol under her nose didn’t cause a single stir. I’m sure someone has written a song about something like this, or perhaps a story.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

HAH! Not likely, not this one. Sadie put up a hell of a fight, and as adorable as it was, perhaps Living Dead Girl is more fitting. Lying there like a corpse, pale, motionless, and cool to the touch. I almost had to search for a pulse until I saw her chestsuck in a single deep breath. After that, I knew things would get back on track swiftly.

Getting her out of the house was the easy part; it’s finding where to put her that’s the problem. Before I was placed in prison, my only concern was the next kill and taking care of myself. Now I have this sixteen year old girl to tote because she can’t be bothered to wake the hell up and cooperate.

Alas, when have things ever been easy for me? I have half a mind to assume she’s going to be a nuisance—if she’s anything like the rest of our family, that assumption is on par. That’s alright; I’ll just have to teach her how to channel all of that unbridled energy into something more productive for the both of us. Perhaps to help draw her whore of a mother out. There’s no way she won’t be hunting her down as soon as she steps outside of Bluitt. I know her too well to consider anything less. Outside of connecting with my sweet niece, finding family that hasn’t proven to be worthless would be a breath of fresh air.

We had to wait for darkness to descend to leave the house. It would be quite alarming for the neighbors to witness a strange man carrying the body of a young girl over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes, then disappearing down the road. Now that it’s here, it’s time to move. I have already been in this house for far too long; seen too many happy memories that have further soured my mood.

Why—why can’t all families be like hers? Disgustingly happy photographs hanging on the walls, participation trophies, souvenirs from vacations they’ve ventured on. I was even lucky enough to find a few baby pictures of Sadie. Her parents practically had a shrine made for this perplexing husk of a human.

I would say that I’d kill to have had the same opportunity as Sadie, to have been taken in by a family that protected and loved me. Cherished by people who pushed me to be a better version ofmyself, not the brand of child who begged and pleaded for basic necessities. Let’s face it, though, I’ve killed for less.

Hoisting her over my shoulder with a huff, she doesn’t make a sound. She’s limp and nearly lifeless, which I know she isn’t because I checked her pulse a fright before lifting her up. If it was steady and rhythmic then I knew I could get at least a little ways from the house without her trying to fight me again. If it was already racing, I would have known she was awake and ready to strike.. My plans for drawing Nadia out would have gone up in smoke, to say the least, had I killed Sadie instead.

With her bony hips digging into my shoulder, I step through the front door and onto the haint blue painted porch, closing the door behind me with a backwards kick. The weather is clear tonight, meaning the moon will be strong and illuminating everything in the area. Another singular setback but not unmanageable; we’ll need to be a bit more cautious of the shadows I squeeze both of us into. Other than that, we will be fine.

Well… as fine as we can be.

“Vicious little shit!” I shout, unceremoniously throwing Sadie into the trunk of the car. Slight body crumpling against the stiff surface before falling to whatever surface is beneath her. Her crying wails, Earth shattering through the fiberglass and the tempered windows of the car I commandeered. Like a damn pirate on the open seas, stealing whatever I can find. Just so happens, this one was sitting here open with keys as plain as day.

Maybe God is actually on my side this go around, won’t put all of my eggs in that basket though.

As I was about to put her in the back seat, the damn thing came awake like a rabid animal and another scuffle ensued. She knocked me back so hard I lost my balance and my knees buckled—I’m sure there is probably gravel embedded in my backside. Much like I did to her several hours ago, she was overme and swinging those frail little fists of hers. She’s admirable, steadily fighting for her life, but at what point will she learn that I’m not necessarily here to kill her? Well, yet. By the end of this all, all three of us will be lying together in an open grave.

Double-murder-suicide, anyone?

Mindful of the previous injury I gave her, I wrestled with her until there was just enough space to bring a knee up to her stomach. Shoving it hard, hands wrapped up in the shirt she wore, I bucked her off my waist and tossed her over my head. She rolled down the embankment beyond the perimeter of the unpaved parking lot. The rustling of leaves and branches was the only sound that came afterward, and I about left her there. Likely hurt and swimming in pain, until the demon urged me to go get her.

“Why? As long as she’s dead, I don’t give a fuck where her body is lying,” I argue.

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