Hate me

Knox

She was supposed to be on a goddamned bus heading to New York, not an accessory to the murders I’m about to commit. 

Correction—murders we’re about to commit.

Aspen’s green eyes go big as she takes in the scene I’ve set up in our parents’ bedroom. 

For a moment, I think she’s going to bail, but then she looks at me and utters, “What do we do now?”

I shove Leo until he falls on the bed. 

“We need to undress them before we position them.” I jerk my chin, gesturing to her mother who is still secured to the headboard via a pair of soft handcuffs. “You take her. I’ll take him.”

Aspen’s mom starts sobbing—her muffled screams growing louder against the duct tape placed over her mouth—as her daughter unlocks one of her cuffs and removes her nightgown. 

Despite her dramatics, Aspen continues, but I can tell she hasn’t quite compartmentalized it the way I have, because she can’t bear to look at her mom while she does it. 

Perhaps I should feel bad she’s a casualty in all this. But the woman only brought this shit on herself. 

Not only did she not give a fuck about her own child, her lack of care and greed enabled my father to use her daughter as a pawn to punish me.

Gritting my teeth, I get to work removing Leo’s clothes. Like Aspen’s mother, his arms are secured behind him with a pair of soft handcuffs so as not to leave marks, but I had to fasten his legs, too, making the task that much more difficult because I have to do it one step at a time. 

After it’s done, I place the articles of clothing haphazardly around the floor. 

Leo squirms as I spread my stepmother’s thighs and position him on top of her. Whatever he’s saying is inaudible thanks to the gag I placed in his mouth. 

Grabbing my father’s gun, I step back. I’m one-inch taller than he is, so I have to adjust the position of the gun ever-so-slightly. “We’ll have to shoot them close together.” I glare at my father, who’s still bound to the chair. “We’ll have a little more leeway with him, but not much.”  

Leo’s still trying to speak, but I don’t give a fuck. 

Aspen, however, does, “What do you think he’s trying to say?” 

Grinding my molars, I aim the gun at his head. “Who the fuck cares.”

“He’s not screaming,” Aspen notes, walking over to him. 

I’m about to remind her that he will if she removes the handkerchief from his mouth, but she does it anyway. 

“Please, don’t kill me,” Leo begs and it’s all I can do not to laugh. 

“Put the gag back in his mouth—”

“No,” he pleads. 

I’m about to shoot the motherfucker, but then he says, “I know where the knife is.” 

I freeze as I take in his statement. 

Aspen looks at me, but I’m too busy looking at my father. 

It’s quick, but I notice his hand clench as his eyes briefly narrow on his brother. 

“Where?” 

Leo clears his throat, his gaze flicking to my father for a split second before he says, “In a safety-deposit box—”

I stop him right there. 

“Look at me.” When he does, I grind out, “You only have one shot at this.” I jerk my chin at Aspen. “There are two of us, which means we can check if you’re lying or not. Therefore, I suggest you choose your next words carefully, because you don’t want to fuck this up.” 

He looks like a mouse stuck in a trap, because he knows the next words out of his mouth are the difference between life and death. 

“It’s buried in your backyard. To the left of the shed.” 

I look at Aspen. “There’s a flashlight under the sink in the kitchen and a shovel in the shed. Try to be quick, Stray. We’re losing time.” 

Nodding, she runs out of the room. 

I glare at Leo. “You better not be lying.” 

Aspen returns after what feels like a goddamn eternity.

“He’s right,” she says, out of breath as she barrels into the room. “The knife is there.” She makes a face. “Along with the skeleton of a finger.” 

A weird sense of relief combined with sorrow tangle in my chest. 

The power he’s wielded over my head like a guillotine all these years is gone. 

But the fact he made me do those gruesome things to my own mother is something I won’t ever forget. 

Or forgive myself for. 

A raging inferno erupts inside me, rushing to the surface and making my insides burn. 

“Put the gag back in his mouth.” 

Leo squirms. “You promised—”

“I didn’t promise shit, motherfucker,” I sneer as Aspen stuffs the handkerchief between his lips.

Aiming the gun at my stepmother, I glance at Aspen. “You ready?” 

The color drains from her face as she turns ashen. “I don’t want her to suffer, okay? Just make it quick and painless and—”

I pull the trigger. 

Aspen jumps as her mother’s body goes limp and blood pours out of her skull. “Jesus, Knox.” 

I shrug. “You said quick and painless.” Walking over to where she is, I hand her the gun. “Your turn.” 

She swallows hard as an array of emotions color her face. 

I’m not surprised. Saying you want to kill someone is one thing. 

Having the balls to make good on your word and going through with it is a whole different ball game. 

Given she’s almost a foot shorter than my father, I motion for her to stand on top of the crate I brought in.

When she does, I move behind her and adjust her aim. 

“I can do it if you want.” 

“No.” She tenses, and I can practically feel the contempt for the man who killed her father coursing through her body, despite the helpless way Leo’s looking at her. “I want to.” 

Glaring at my uncle, I place my hand on her abdomen and kiss the crook of her neck. “Whenever you’re ready, Stray.” 

I dip my fingers beneath the waistband of her sweatpants, because I want my hands on her body to be the last fucking thing he sees. 

Aspen trembles and for a moment I think I’m going to have to take over…but then she pulls the trigger, and he slumps against her mother’s corpse. 

“Holy shit.” She sucks in a sharp breath. “I did it.” 

Yeah, she fucking did. 

Prying the gun from her hand, I kiss her neck again. “Hard part is over, Stray.” 

Only it’s not…

Because there’s still one more person to kill.

I’m practically choking on the cloud of wrath smothering me as I approach him. 

Realizing he’s next, he thrashes against the chair, putting up a formidable fight as I uncuff his right hand.

But I’m stronger, not just because of my strength-training, but all the hatred I’ve built up inside me over the years. 

Fury claws its way through my chest, robbing me of air and sending me spiraling as I realize. 

All the torture he’s inflicted. 

All the pain he’s caused. 

He’s going to die without experiencing any of it.