Page 95 of The Taskmaster
Q started to laugh from his position on the floor. “How nice of you to join us.” He tried to sit up, but I could see the pain clearly etched on his face. He was struggling. “Now we can make it a real family affair.”
“I said, hands where I can see them,” Dan Walters barked, and Q grinned up at me.
“Look at you doing as you’re told for a change, keeping your hands up for the officer.”
Another shot rang out, and Q’s other knee jerked as a bullet hit it.
“There’s three more men here,” I called out, but Walters shook his head.
“They’re already taken care of.” And he glanced down at where Q sat, keeping his gun trained on him as he said, “I’m arresting you on suspicion of kidnapping and false imprisonment. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say?—”
“Get me out of here,” I hollered, cutting him off as I rattled the chains, desperate to escape. Q was lying on the floor; he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. And as Walters continued to read him his rights over the noise I made, Q laughed.
It was time to take control.
“I’m so sorry,” Abigail sobbed as she flew across the room, wrapping her arms around me as she repeated her apologies over and over.
“You don’t ever have to say sorry,” I told her, kissing her head. “Just get the keys off the table over there and get these chains off me.” I whispered quietly, so only she could hear. “This isn’t over yet.”
She peered up at me, her eyes red from crying, her cheeks stained with tears and my blood. “It is over. It has to be.”
I shook my head. “Not for me. Not yet.”
She nodded. She didn’t need me to explain further. She stepped back, then turned and walked towards the table, picked up the keys and came back to me. She bent down and unlocked the restraints at my ankles first, then stood up and reached for the cuffs around my wrists, setting me free. I rubbed my wrists to soothe the ache, and then placed my hand on her cheek, stroking her with my thumb. “You never have to apologise. And this is for you.”
My hand dropped to my side, and I marched over to the table. Took a carving knife and turned to where Q lay on the floor.
“Drop the weapon and put your hands up,” her father shouted, but I wasn’t going to do that. I didn’t bow to anyone rules. Except hers.
“I said drop it or I’ll shoot,” he hollered, and I knew he meant what he said, but it still wouldn’t stop me.
“Dad, don’t. Please,” Abigail begged, standing in front of her father and shielding me.
“Abi, move,” her father snapped, trying to get a clear shot as he stepped to the side, angling his gun around her, but Abi moved too. He knew the risk was too high.
I leaned down and stared Q right in the face.
“This is for her,” I whispered. “And every other child you destroyed, you fucking piece of shit.” I sliced the knife across his neck, blood pouring from the wound as his face drained of colour. He slumped backwards, and I straddled him, stabbing the knife into his chest and pulling the blade down to his abdomen.
His chest cavity was exposed, blood pooling beneath us, and I threw the knife to the side, blocking out Abi’s cries and her dad’s shouts.
No one and nothing was going to stop me now.
I reached into his chest, gripped his ribs and tore them open, cracking the bones with my bear hands. Then I grabbed his heart and ripped it out, holding the warm throbbing organ in my hands as I stood up and turned to face Abi.
I walked over to her as she stared at me, her mouth open, her breaths short pants as she stared with wide eyes. I didn’t say a word, just dropped the bloody heart at her feet, then sank to my knees in front of her.
“No one will ever hurt you again. You have my word.”
I hung my head, waiting for the bullets to fire and my world to turn to darkness. But I’d made peace with that. All that mattered was I’d delivered a shred of justice for her, placing it at her feet.
My skin prickled and I felt the softness of her touch as she ran her fingers through my hair. I heard gentle sobbing, but then she whispered, “Thank you.”
Those two words meant everything to me. And for a moment, I experienced the kind of peace I never thought possible, like my fractured soul was mending, slowly fusing together after a lifetime of laying in shatters.
And then I heard the shouts of, “Get down! Police!”
There was a rush of movement, and the weight of four or five officers forced me to the ground, snapped me back to the morbid reality of the moment.
