Page 74 of Psychotic Faith
"Tell me about the others," I rasp, needing to know before this ends. "How many?"
"Does it matter?" Neumann tries for defiance.
"Every one matters." I keep my eyes on his face. "Say their names."
And he does. Through gasps and protests, he confesses to raping seven women over twenty years. Each name a weightlifted from the world. Each confession proving what I already knew—he would never stop. Would never feel remorse.
"Your mother fought hardest. Scratched my face so deep I needed stitches. Had to tell people it was a skiing accident."
Something settles in my chest. Not rage. Certainty.
I look at Luca, really look at him. Exhausted, damaged, but waiting. Waiting for me to decide.
"For my mother," I whisper, my throat screaming with pain. "For your father. For everyone he hurt."
Luca nods once, understanding everything I can't say.
"Together?" he asks quietly.
"Always," I manage. "But this part… this is yours. I'll be right here. I'll witness. But I can't…"
"I know," Luca says, and there's something like relief in his voice. Like he didn't want me to have to carry this weight. "You can leave. You don't have to watch."
"No." The word comes out stronger than expected. "I stay. I chose this. I chose you. He needs to see that."
I move to the wall, positioning myself where I can see Neumann's face. My legs shake, threatening to give out, but I lock my knees and stay upright.
Luca approaches Neumann with the scalpel in hand, and something in his posture shifts. The exhaustion falls away. This is what he was made for. What trauma shaped him to be. And I'm letting him do it. Choosing him to do it.
"Faith," Neumann tries one last time, looking past Luca to me. "You're not like him. You're good. Don't let him—"
"I'm not good," I tell him, and mean it. "I'm just not you."
I watch Neumann's face as understanding hits him. I'm not going to stop this. I chose the monster over mercy. Twelve years of his freedom end here, because of what he did to my mother.
I don't look away. Don't cover my ears. Don't turn my back.
I witness.
When Neumann's eyes finally go still, I feel something inside me crack open. Not relief. Not satisfaction. Just… emptiness. Like I've been carrying this weight so long, I don't know how to stand without it.
Luca turns to me, blood on his hands, question in his eyes.
I cross to him and take his bloodied hand in mine. "It's done?"
"It's done."
28 - Faith
Luca carries me through the mansion’s halls, past closed doors where his family sleeps. My clinical gown clings to me, heavy with blood and sweat and the weight of finally, finally getting justice.
His bathroom is all marble and gold fixtures, too beautiful for the horror we're about to wash away. Or maybe perfect for it. Beauty and blood have always coexisted in the Rosetti world. Now they coexist in mine too.
I catch my reflection and freeze. Blood spatters across my face like freckles, my eyes wild but finally, truly alive. The woman in the mirror isn't the librarian who reads to children. She's not the dutiful daughter who sits through Sunday breakfasts lying about everything.
I try to speak but only manage: "I look…" before having to stop, pointing at my reflection, a woman covered in blood. I'd be scared of her if she was anywhere else but in the mirror.
Luca steps behind me, his chest against my back, and meets my eyes in the mirror. "You look like yourself."
