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I can’t breathe. Memories pummel me from years ago, and I stumble backward.
“Ava, give me the knife, and I’ll make sure nobody ever hurts you again.”
Hesitantly, she releases the knife, her eyes brimming with tears. I quickly wipe off all traces of her prints on my shirt as she lifts her pinkie finger. “Promise?”
Holding the knife by my side, I curl my pinkie around hers. “I promise.”
Ava givesthe little girl one last wistful glance before she stands, pulling me out the back gate and down the side of the house as the woman’s voice screams again. “Paige! Oh, thank God!”
* * *
Ava doesn’t speakthe entire drive back to Fort Lauderdale, which, shockingly enough, I’m okay with. I’m not sure what I’d say if she did. To see Ava’s past replay in front of her face like that was almost more than I could handle. It took every ounce of willpower not to take out my knife and cut that motherfucker to pieces myself.
She didn’t have to say it, and neither did he. I know what he did. I know he was the one. But he was her ghost to slay, not mine. She deserved those bullets.
When I pull in the driveway of the modest sand-colored stucco home, a flicker of life finally ignites in her eyes. “Where are we?”
“Mikhail’s house. He left it unlocked for us. I told you we couldn’t stay in Okeechobee anymore. It’s too risky. I put Mik up in a hotel, and he’s letting us stay here until things die down.”
The car barely stops before Ava is out and running toward the house. I call after her, but I already know it’s no use, a fact proven when she winds her way through unfamiliar surroundings in order to find the bedroom door and slam it. I pace outside, trying like hell to give her privacy, but I can’t help remembering that handling shit on her own put her mother six feet under. Worrying if Ava’s going to react the same almost has me breaking the door down.
Eventually, soft crying filters through into the living room, and I’m done. “Ava!” I yell, pounding on the door. “Open this door, or I swear to Christ, I’m breaking it down.”
“Please, give me time,” she rasps, her voice hoarse.
Time. Time. Time.
Time is all she’s asked for today, and every time I oblige her, more shit happens. More bodies fall. More secrets come out that destroy more of my soul. She begs again until I resume my pacing. I pace for another hour until I can’t take it anymore.
I’m fucking done.
Popping the blade on my knife, I wiggle it around in the lock until it clicks and the spring snaps. When I open the door, I find Ava asleep, curled up on the bed, her arm hanging off the side.
That’s when I count the marks.
Eight in all.
Hatred hotter than a thousand suns burns through me as I walk a slow pace and stand by her. I have no idea what the hell she did, but I do know one thing.
She’s going to answer for it.
