by Ella Burns
I see her tense, but after a beat she nods.
“Good girl.”
✽✽✽
Despite being forced to cook so many years, I have come to genuinely enjoy it. The rush of creation, of making something from scattered and broken pieces and ingredients, it appeals to me. The parallels to our current situation aren’t lost on me.
I decide that before anything else, a proper breakfast for both of us is in order. Leaving Mia to her own morning routine, I make my way down the stairs feeling odd at descending rather than ascending to get to the kitchen.
I stand there thinking of what we can make, noting how poor our food stores really are. I hadn’t really thought of it before. I was so pathetically focused on just doing what I was told, but it’s been like that a lot lately and I wonder what's been going on with Jane. It’s then I remember Amelia recently asking me about Jane acting odd. At the time I was in a haze, a wall around my mind with no thoughts other than following orders. Now that I’m, well, me again, small things over the last while begin popping into my mind and I resolve to bring it up again later.
“Do you want coffee?” Mia asks as she putters into the kitchen a moment later, immediately walking toward the small press I know she favors.
I start to shake my head but stop. I’ve only had coffee once before and didn’t like it much then. That was the old me, though. A me who couldn’t even pick his own fucking breakfast.
“Sure,” I say, a small thrill running through me at having a choice.
“Milk, sugar?”
“Whatever you think I’d like,” I reply, and she pauses, turning to look at me. Her eyes meet mine and I know she’s realizing the same thing I just did. For her, coming into this kitchen to make coffee is an everyday thing. Without words, her eyes say it all and I nod lightly. Letting out a breath, she turns back and continues to the coffee while I pull out the last ingredients I need.
“I’m making omelets,” I tell her, not bothering to ask what she wants. My eyes wander over the selection of food in front of me, sparking with decision. A steaming coffee mug is slid in front of me. I turn and give a small nod in thanks before lifting the cup and taking a sip. Creamy but bitter, it washes over me, and I decide I do like coffee.
“So,” she says, sliding into the small kitchen table with her own mug. I continue to stir the eggs and wait, but she doesn’t continue.
“So?” I prompt.
She opens her mouth but before she says anything the door to the front of the house opens. We look at one another with wide eyes. My heart is pounding as my mind races with options, but fear and panic threaten to overwhelm me.
“Why, hello, pets,” Jane says.
Chapter Fourteen
Teddy
I’m frozen in shock when Jane enters the room, my mind screaming warnings at me that my body seems unable to listen to. What the fuck is she doing back so early?
Jane’s eyes narrow at Branson and it takes me a moment to remember how he would have looked when she left. Now, without the grime covering him, the short hair, cup of coffee in front of him, he looks… well, utterly delicious, but certainly not the mindless slave she left behind. The two of them stare at one another, the tension in the room rising by the second.
“Our pet has been exceedingly good,” I say quickly, “earned himself a bath.”
Jane doesn’t look at me, her gaze still locked on Branson’s. My entire body is tense while I wait, seeing if my lies will work.
“Go to your room,” she tells him, her voice low with warning. I see his jaw click and shake my head frantically behind Jane. Please, let me deal with her, I silently beg him. After another beat, he puts the pan he’s holding down and walks downstairs without a word. Jane turns to look at me as soon as he’s gone.
“He’s different,” she says.
“Just clean,” I try to assure her, but Jane shakes her head, looking in the direction he went.
“No,” she says absently, “there’s something else. Now, where’s Bud? I need to speak with him.”
Shit. I forgot about that.
Why did she have to come home early?
“I haven’t seen him all week,” I lie easily, and Jane whips her head toward me.
“What?”
I shrug and try to make light of it, picking up my mug to take a sip.
“I figured you told him to take the week off or something. Where were you, anyway?”
Jane straightens up, easily distracted by the question I know she doesn’t want to answer.
“I’m going to find Bud,” she informs me. “Be ready for a new project tomorrow.”
I nod and wonder what she’s going to do when she realizes he’s gone. She’ll never find him, thanks to the furnace, but he’s been a staple on this property forever. It won’t take her long to figure out that something is going on.
Despite it all, I don’t want to hurt Jane. She’s the closest thing to a mother I remember, the only person to truly accept me and my darkness.
I may not want to stay with her, but I don’t want to kill her either.
I just need to convince Branson we should leave tonight. We just need to get through one more day. I breathe heavily before grabbing the device and heading downstairs.
Chapter Fifteen
Branson
I feel heavy as I take the familiar steps down the stairs. Though my body easily follows the command, my mind wars with my reason and all I want to do is turn around and wrap my hand around Jane’s neck. I imagine squeezing, watching her face turn red then blue, her nails clawing at me until the light fades from her eyes.
It takes everything in me not to turn around and make that a reality. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m not, even as I get to the disgusting room Jane calls mine. And what was with Mia shaking her head no? She saw what I wanted in my eyes; I don’t doubt it. If there was ever someone who could recognize hate, I know it's her. Does she really think she can keep me from my vengeance? After all Jane fucking did to me?
The fury rises in my blood, and I stand.
Fuck this.
It’s so easy to let my body and mind fall into the habit of following commands, but no more.
I turn back to the door to see Mia standing there. She moves into the room, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“She’s looking for Bud,” she tells me, “I think—”
“I’m going to kill her, and we’re going to leave,” I tell her, starting to push past until she stops me with a hand.
“You can’t!”
“You’d fucking defend her?” I demand, “After all of it, you’ll fucking protect her.”
I see her tense and her jaw tighten.
“You don’t understand her like I do! She’s like a mother to me,” she whispers. I have to take a deep breath before I can continue. I don’t know which one of them I’m more pissed at. Jane for fucking twisting her, making her think she actually fucking cares, or Amelia for fucking falling for it.
“Yeah, she was like a mother for a while to me too. Until she fucking tortured and abused me for a fucking decade,” I spit at her and she flinches. “Then again, I suppose that’s just a good fucking day of your childhood, huh?”
I see a flash of guilt, but not nearly enough. “Just hold on today. I’ll keep her upstairs and we can leave tonight. Together.”
My eyes narrow at her for a second before I laugh, shaking my head. Ridiculously, my first instinct is to do what she wants and not even to follow her orders but because I legitimately don’t want to hurt her. How I can want to hurt her less than I want to hurt Jane is beyond me. Fuck me, I’m fucked up. I shake my head with another laugh.
“Whatever, Teddy,” I bite at her, turning to take a seat and picking up one of my favorite books. “I’ll wait till tonight to leave. Do you know why?”
She shakes her head, misery written on her face.
“Because I actually fucking love you enough that I don’t want to hurt you. Not like that, anyway,” I tell her, not
hiding the bitterness in my voice. I rise one more time, moving closer until I’m leaning into her, my face inches from hers. “Now. Go. Away.”
Her jaw ticks. She looks at me a moment longer before turning on a heel and walking back upstairs. When she’s gone, my fist strikes out, hitting the wall beside me and adding another hole to the already decrepit room.
Fuck.
✽✽✽
Despite being pissed at her, I can admit to myself that the time to collect myself is welcome. I’ve spent so much of my life now wishing I was somewhere else, but I never considered where I would go. I kind of wish I could talk through it with Mia, ask her about where we really are, but it doesn’t really matter.
The only things from this place I’ll take with me are the scars on my skin.
Maybe I can convince her to burn it down. I’ll dance around the corpse of this place.
Why should I care about Jane being here, anyway? About not being able to kill her? Sure, it felt fucking great to get rid of Bud, but I’m not like them. I’m not a fucking killer.
I can and will do what I have to, but my life has had so much hate in it that letting go of the remains of it I hold don’t seem so hard.
Sitting in my old place, my mind drifts and I find myself nodding off, dreaming of fire and blood with a smile on my face.
✽✽✽
I suppose it's a sad thing to say that I’m pretty familiar with the sensation of being drugged, but there it is. What does suck is waking from good dreams to Jane’s face close to my own. The prick of a needle and the oppressive blackness starts to pull me down quickly. My heart doesn’t crack until I notice Teddy standing behind her just as my vision fades completely.
Chapter Fifteen
Branson
Though I’ve never woken up in this position before, the cold metal on my naked back is familiar and somehow soothing. I know immediately where I am, but it doesn’t make me feel panicked. I’ve dreamed of being on this table since I was a child, always knowing this would be my only escape from this place.
I try to move my hands to see how I’m bound, more out of curiosity than anything, but find I can’t move my limbs yet. No matter, I think, it’s just the drugs still coursing in my body. Soon, the tingles of feeling will come back, and I’ll flex my fingers. Or maybe they’ll kill me before then and I won’t even have to feel it. I don’t expect to be that lucky.
Calm, at peace. This is right. This is where I should be.
Voices ring out from down the corridor, the sound of Jane’s voice bringing me back.
My eyes shoot open, all vestibules of calm deflate. How I let myself go back there for even a second is beyond me. It’s the same pit of mind bullshit I’ve caved to for years. I can’t go back there.
Rage courses through me, and I let out a loud scream. This table was just never something I feared. Perhaps that is all it is. Because I’m still not scared, I’m pissed.
The door to the workshop opens and Jane comes barging in, Teddy behind her.
"Lying bitch," I snarl, pulling myself off the table toward Teddy. "At least I expected this shit from her." I nod my head toward Jane. Teddy's eyes widen, like my outrage at her fucking betrayal is some huge surprise. Honestly, I'm probably the asshole here. How did I let her fake-ass apology convince me?
Doe eyes and a blowjob, and she almost fucking had me.
Jane laughs, and my glare turns to her.
"Oh, pet, I knew something had changed," Jane comments, staring down at me with inky black eyes, wide and a bit frantic looking. An increasingly familiar expression for her. I don't move or say anything. I know she is waiting for me to beg, but I will never give her that satisfaction.
“I can get into the city easily!” Teddy argues, her arms animated and her eyes darting my way. "Just give me a few hours and I'll get someone."
“I should have done this years ago,” Jane mutters, and Teddy exhales deeply.
“Let me get a new victim,” Teddy says. “I can—”
Jane turns to Teddy with a scalpel in her hand.
“Go upstairs if you don’t want to watch,” Jane tells her, nodding her head toward the hall. “I get it, you’re young and weak. I’ll take care of it, we’ll close down the shop, and get out of here for good. It’ll be just like before; I’ve got it all planned. They can’t take it away from us.”
“Jane, you can’t,” Teddy says. Jane darts a glare at her and I realize I’ve never heard Teddy call her Jane. My brows knit together as I watch, still not even sure if it's Teddy or Amelia standing before me.
“You’d protect him,” Jane says calmly. “After all I’ve done for you, you’d protect him over me?”
Teddy takes a step closer to her. “I understand,” she practically whispers, “Jane, I saw the stuff in your desk. Branson isn’t him.”
Jane makes a choked sound, but my eyes are on Teddy. What is she talking about?
“You’d protect him,” Jane says again, this time a statement, not a question.
Teddy:
The same words Branson spoke to me earlier don’t have the same effect coming from her. I feel my jaw tick as I watch Jane, my eyes tracking her every subtle movement. She's between the table and me, and I try to shift to the left to get closer to Branson.
"He doesn't deserve this," I tell her. Jane's face tightens at my words and despite myself, I feel the sting of disappointing her. I dart a glance to Branson who is watching us both, his entire body tense. When our eyes meet, I see the pain inside and realize he does think I betrayed him again. Though I feel a flash of annoyance, I can't blame him.
"Just let him go, and it can all go back like before," I tell Jane, keeping my voice low and soothing. "We can even go into town together, get a new victim just like we used to."
Jane's eyes drift to Branson as she toys with the scalpel in her hand. My heart is pumping loudly in my ears as I wait to see what she'll do.
Don't attack him, I will her in my mind. I don't want to kill you, but I will.
Branson:
I see the moment of decision in Jane's eyes before she moves, her hand striking out behind her and hitting Teddy's cheek. She cries out and falls to the floor, clearly not expecting it.
"After all I did for you," Jane says with an even voice that's all the more menacing for the lack of emotion behind it. "Ungrateful cunt." A foot comes out toward Teddy, and though I can't see where it hits from this angle, I hear the moan of pain that follows.
Jane turns her attention back to me.
"I should have killed you the day you arrived," she tells me matter-of-factly as she brings the scalpel toward my face. I let a smile curve on my face.
"Finally, something we agree on."
My teeth clench and I breathe heavily out of my nose as I wait for the cut I've been anticipating for fifteen years. Though I try to resist, as her hand hovers above my sternum my eyes clench shut.
I just hope it's fast.
A demonic shriek makes my eyes shoot open, widening further as I watch Jane's mouth open, a trickle of blood flowing out as she drops to her knees. Teddy stands behind her, her hand still on the blade sticking out of Jane’s back. Tears run down her red cheeks, even as she pulls the blade free, eliciting a loud squelching noise.
“I fucking hate that word,” Teddy states. Jane cries out as Teddy slams the knife down again and again. The expression on Teddy’s face is manic as she stabs over and over.
Splatters of blood hit her cheeks, pink where Jane hit her but otherwise clear porcelain. Her mouth is parted and tears flow down her face, but she looks ecstatic. The passion and mania pouring off her in waves. I couldn’t stop myself from getting hard if I wanted to.
She stops with a heaving chest. Jane turns to look at her protege's face and falls to the side.
I wish I could have seen the look on Jane’s face.
Teddy looks at the bleeding body at her feet for another moment before her eyes rise to meet mine, their green depths swimming with emotion. Fierce satis
faction is the first thing I see, the darkness I should have learned to accept long ago.
It's only seconds before her lower lip shakes and I watch her swallow deeply, one more tear falling as Jane lets out a final shuddering breath.
Silence.
Teddy:
I move on autopilot, releasing Branson from the familiar bindings. Neither of us say anything. The room is completely silent. Blood and death don't bother me, but I don't look at the ground yet.
Jane was losing it, she needed to die, and I couldn't let her kill Branson. It’s not like I’ve ever felt regret for a kill before. But....
A choked sob falls from my throat and I have to catch myself on a table so I don't fall to the ground. Branson's arm comes up beside me, holding my elbow for support. I breathe out to steady myself before looking up to his face. The expression on his face is a mix of emotion that I can't even begin to read. The only part I recognize is the hint of love still shining through.
I don't stop the instinct to throw myself into his arms, letting the sobs overtake me. He says nothing but opens his arms to wrap me inside, holding me close as I cling to him and cry like I've never cried before.
Branson:
I feel numb as I hold Teddy—no, Amelia—while she cries. I've seen her kill dozens of people over the years and never seen her show remorse. A part of me feels bitter that she should be sad over that psycho bitch’s death, but at the same time I can't help but understand, at least a bit.
Both of us were raised in darkness and depravity. She accepted and embraced it, I shut off and recoiled from it. Even still, there is nothing that can take away all of these years. And though Jane was an evil, narcissistic psychopath and serial killer to boot, both of us will forever carry a part of her in us.
Whatever we do next, wherever we go, death will always follow us.
