Page 12 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
My foot connects with his belly, then ribs, then his head. He goes down, and I stomp on his hands and fingers until I hear them crunch. He raises his arms to try to block my attacks, but I sneer at his pitiful attempts.
Tears and snot cover his face as he cries and mewls with every blow to his face, chest, belly and back. I even break the man code and lodge the tip of my shoe in his testicles.
“Stop it, you’re going to kill him!” comes a thin cry. “Do you want to go to jail for murder?”
Murder. The word is like a bucket of ice water. I stop abruptly. Caleb’s blood covers the carpet and my shoes. I lift my head. Sue Ellen is directly in my line of sight. She’s staring, both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and fearful. Of me.
She didn’t look at the boys on the floor like that. No, she watched them corner Ivy like she was about to witness something grotesque but fascinating.
Dismissing her, I turn to Ivy. She’s pulled her dress up to cover herself. I go to the walk-in closet and find a long silk robe in black, probably Mrs. Wentworth’s. I take it and drape it over Ivy’s shoulders. She’s trembling.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
She nods jerkily, her eyes a little glassy. I can smell beer and some kind of hard liquor on her.
I start to escort her out. As we walk past Sue Ellen, I stop and say in a soft voice, “I don’t generally hurt girls. But what I just did to that guy is going to look merciful compared to what I’ll do to you if I see you around the Blackwood property or anywhere near Ivy again.”
She pulls back and swallows.
The crowd on the first floor parts in front of us like the sea before Moses, apparently sensing my murderous mood, even if they don’t know the reason. My rage hasn’t fully dissipated, and it’s all I can do to not run back upstairs and deliver more punishment.
I take Ivy to the Mercedes and help settle her in the passenger seat. I get behind the wheel and start driving. After a few minutes, her teeth start to chatter.
“You okay?”
“F-f-fine,” she manages.
“You don’t sound okay.”
Her fingers tighten around the robe. “Are you going to t-t-tell Aunt Margot?”
What Caleb and his buddies did would upset Mother. On the other hand, maybe rescuing Ivy put me that much closer to earning forgiveness. That’d be nice.
But I can’t claim I beat up Caleb and his friends purely to protect Ivy. I did it because they deserved it and because I wanted to hurt them for hurting her. I don’t care to delve deeper than that right now. It’s too messy, and I don’t need messy at the moment.
“Do you want me to?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Then I won’t.”
We come to where the road forks. Turning right would take us home. I go left.
“What are you d-doing?” Her voice is shaky. “I…I want to go home. You can drop me off here and I can walk.”
“In a robe and a torn dress?”
She bites her lip, her gaze wary.
The hole in my gut burns hotter, bitterer. What the hell does she think I’m going to do to her? Does she think I saved her from those guys just to take her to someplace desolate and rape her? Maybe she does think that badly of me. Mother obviously thinks I’m capable of just about anything.
Bitter anger pounds in my head until my scalp throbs. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it back at the house.”
She gives a small, inarticulate cry and pulls back.
Damn it.My teeth grind together. Frustration and self-recrimination hammer at me. She’s traumatized, maybe even in shock, and probably didn’t realize she was insulting me. Besides, I didn’t make the best impression today. I was rude to her in the sitting room, and I unleashed enough violence to scare any girl whose greatest physical exertion in life is playing Liszt’s études.
I shouldn’t be so hard on her.
