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I smile and open my eyes to his fierce frown. I stroke his cheek until the lines vanish from his forehead. “A day, a week, even a year from now, what we’re about to do won’t be easy. What will get me through is having my husbands by my side.”
“Always.” Shinji entwines our fingers and kisses my knuckles.
We pull up in front of a building. Shattered glass litters the sidewalk and cardboard covers the empty window wells. The street is in disrepair. Cracks and buckling asphalt and concrete line the way to the entrance.
Takeshi and Shinji bracket me as we enter the squalid building.
“Remember, we get a go at him first.” Takeshi pulls in front and leads to the second floor.
Two men standing guard rise upon seeing us. They step aside for us to enter. A glass partition and door separate the space.
“Stay here and watch. When you’re ready, tap the glass.” Shinji enters and Takeshi follows, slowly closing the door.
Worry darkens his eyes, but his faith in me, in us, prevents him from protecting me from myself.
On the other side of the divider, Paul lies chained to a cot. A thin mattress separates him from the iron springs on the frame.
He takes one look at my husbands and shakes his head. “Not you, anyone but you.” He pulls at his restraints to no avail.
“Aww, do you hear him Keishi-kun? Sounds like he misses us.”
“Let’s see how much.” Takeshi releases his binds, and with Shinji’s help, transfers Paul to a chair they drag in front of me.
Where Paul’s shin should be, there’s nothing. Instead, his legs stop at his knees, both bound in bandages.
After seeing my therapist and talking through my renewed trauma, I’m unhappy to say I’m not fully healed. My heart beats triple time, my skin warms, sweat excretes from my glands, breathing becomes a struggle, and my vision…
“What’s she doing here?” Paul twists from side to side, struggling to free himself.
I can’t… No, I won’t let seeing Paul reduce me to a catatonic state.
Breathe.
I practice the exercises my therapist recommended until my heartbeat slows. Okay, one symptom under control.
“She’s here to end things, one way or the other,” Takeshi says.
“If I were you, I’d be begging for forgiveness right about now.” Shinji squeezes Paul’s shoulder until the man gives up his futile endeavor and closes his eyes in a grimace.
Takeshi and Shinji stand patiently, waiting for a sign from me but I continue my routine until my other senses get online.
I nod toward them, and they stretch their necks and shoulders, preparing for action.
“Ask forgiveness? For making her experience a fraction of the shame, humiliation, and rage I did after what she did to me? Of course, you wouldn’t see my point of view.”
“We wouldn’t?” Takeshi asks, rounding the chair to crouch before Paul, his hands held behind his back. “Because if we’re talking about an eye for an eye, I want to know, back in the day, did you use this hand to drug and hold her down while you took away her choice?” Takeshi produces a Chinese cleaver and flips it in the air, catching it with one hand.
Has he had that the entire time?
“W-what do you mean?” Paul resumes his earlier struggle, but Takeshi holds his hand to the armrest and swings.
Blood sprays over Takeshi’s body. It goes unnoticed while he savors Paul’s screams.
The sound coming from my ex shakes the glass between us, and it’s oddly satisfying watching as his hand falls to the ground and blood spurts unabated.
“Keishi-kun, I think you’re mistaken. This is the hand he used.” Shinji who has a similar knife in hand follows Takeshi’s example and liberates Paul from the burden of his other hand.
I blink back tears because I do feel a part of me healing as Paul suffers through Takeshi and Shinji’s vengeance. Paul’s weeping is a symphony to my ears.
