AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As the tip of the knife she held dug into the tape over the Albanian’s cheek, Beatrice was finally able to see it. Her husband’s face overlapped with that of his cousin.
This time, she drew death out. He’d stopped whimpering behind the tape long before his last breath left him.
She thought maybe that would make her feel whole in some way. Instead, the knife dropped from her numb fingers on top of his bloody chest.
The third cousin was crying, though the tape muffled his sobs. She felt no satisfaction from that either. The urge to kill him had fled.
Her eyes found Vespa. The woman was leaning in the far corner, watching her with a smooth, unreadable face, though her eyes narrowed. She studied Beatrice’s expression, and Beatrice had no idea what she was thinking.
She’d never understood Vespa.
Beatrice backed away from the table, her hand falling to her side. She stared down at her feet. Blood coated them.
Turning, she headed toward the door.
“What about the third?” Vespa asked her back.
Beatrice paused, but her hands no longer felt like her own. “You finish it.”
Vespa made a sound in her throat as she moved to the metal tray. “You sure? This moment won’t come around again. They’re all pretty much dead now.”
Beatrice looked at the mutilated corpses. “I’m sure.”
Vespa chose her own blade, holding it up to look at. “I might make it too quick.”
The last Albanian already looked like his soul had fled from his eyes.
“I don’t care,” Beatrice said. It was the truth. All she felt was emptiness.
Vespa crossed to the bound man, ripping off his tape. “Let’s hear this one scream, then.”
Beatrice left her to it. The screams that followed her to the hallway made her shoulders hunch. They’d stopped by the time she reached the outer, soundproofed door.
Her bare feet left behind smears of blood as she traced the path back to the house. She decided Vespa could deal with that as well. At least they were mostly dry by the time she entered the main house.
It took longer than she expected to clean the blood off of her. She turned the water colder and colder as she stood under the spray, hating the warmth.
Night had fallen outside. She stood at the window, waiting for the thoughts to come, but even her mind was empty. Like she’d already left the world behind. Like she’d already become nothing.
She remembered Montrell’s words. That she should do exactly as she pleased.
Had she really wanted blood? Or had she thought she should? That it was expected?
If she wanted absolutely nothing, did that mean she was no longer a person at all? Perhaps the person she remembered being had bled out on the bathroom floor so long ago, leaving an empty vessel behind.
She didn’t want to be dead. She wanted to feel. Anything.
Her feet carried her to the bedroom door.
Giulia had told her Montrell’s room was next to hers. The older woman liked to meddle. She often spoke of Montrell when she was around.
Beatrice entered, expecting to find him asleep. He wasn’t. He stood in front of the window, looking out into the night in a way that mirrored the way she had stood only minutes before.
When she let the door snap shut behind her, he turned her way. His face held the same expression that he’d been wearing around her ever since he’d barreled his way back into her life, the one that was filled with concern and caring and patience. Like she was fragile and would shatter in front of him at any moment.
There was a time he hadn’t looked at her that way.
She didn’t want him to look at her that way now. Her bare feet carried her to him.
