"Yeah, kiddo," I said. When we got to the door of the room, I stopped short. Who knew what kind of shape she was in? I didn't want to traumatize the kid any further than he'd already been.
Then Meia stood in the doorway, Squid and Diego behind her. Clad in a thin cotton shift, her face pale and bruised, swollen nearly beyond recognition, she didn't look like the Meia I'd left behind. I felt Ben's hand squeeze mine tightly. Shit, the kid was probably fucking terrified.
"Ben." Meia put her hand to her mouth, and tears began to stream down her face. She fell to her knees on the floor. "Ben, you look so big."
"Momma?" Ben let go of my hand and tentatively took a step toward her, then threw his arms around her neck. "Momma, you came to get me."
"Yeah, baby," she said. "We got you."
"Look, not to be insensitive and shit," Squid said, "But we need to get the fuck out of here."
I nodded. We weren't out of here yet, but just seeing Meia in one piece, hugging her kid...I knew I'd done the right thing.
A FEW DAYS LATER
"Are you sure you want to be the one to do this?" Hammer asked me, his lips pressed so tightly together I swear they were starting to turn white.
I laughed, the sound bitter. "Are you asking me if I want to be the one to murder the man who raped me, over and over, when I was a child? The man who kidnapped me after I became an adult, stole my child from my arms, and forced me to become his sex slave?"
Hammer put his hands on my arms, squared my body to face his. "I'm not kidding, Meia. I wouldn't ask this if I wasn't serious. When I killed those men, the men who murdered April, it wasn't pretty. The rage took over, and it was fucking brutal. I thought it would fix everything. I thought it would get rid of my anger. But it didn't. It wasn't rewarding, the way I thought it would be."
"I'm not under the illusion that killing Aston is going to solve everything, Hammer," I said. "But I have to be the one to do it. That right belongs to me."
Hammer nodded. "I thought you'd say that." He led me into the room where they'd been holding Aston. Benicio's "kill room," Hammer had called it.
Aston sat in the middle of the room naked, his hands and feet tied to a chair. His head lolled down, and he was barely conscious. Bruises of every shape and size covered the expanse of his body, mottled shades of purples and reds. His fingers were bloodied stumps, the damage so bad I couldn't tell if they were even there anymore. He moaned under his breath, this constant whine that sounded like a dying animal.
I felt something stir inside me, but it wasn't empathy for him or his pain, or even sympathy at his state. It was something else, something dark.
I wanted him to suffer for what he'd done to me. To my sister. To my son.
Beside me, Hammer handed me a knife. He looked at me, his brow furrowed, and I grasped the handle, cool against my palm. As soon as I felt the blade in my hand, I knew I would do it. I wanted to watch him as he took his last breath.
He deserved to die. I wanted to be the one to kill him. There was no pain too great for the man who had taken my childhood away from me, who had destroyed my innocence.
I approached him, knife in my palm, my hands steady, my stride certain. He looked up at me, his lids heavy, drunk with the agony of the torture he'd experienced. I knew how that felt. Looking at him, I could feel my cheekbone throb, a reminder of where he'd hit me. I could taste him in my mouth, putrid on my tongue.
He deserved everything he was about to get.
He inhaled ragged breath, and then spoke, his voice barely audible in the room. "I...don't...regret...anything," he said. "You...fucking...cunt."
If anything were to push me over the edge, it would be hearing Aston regret nothing, none of the abuse I had suffered, none of the horrors he had inflicted on so many women and children. Now, I was resolved to do what I was about to do. I smiled as I strode the last few steps to him, and touched the blade to his skin, directly beside his flaccid cock. The part of him that had caused me so much pain. "Goodbye, Aston," I said.
Then I cut it off. With excruciating slowness.
I felt like I was outside of myself, watching it happen from above, as I sliced into his flesh. His wail of pain sounded like it came from far away, distant, almost like a dream. When I finally had it finished, I stepped back, watching him bleed.
There was so much blood.
I unfurled my hand to look at the piece of him, and dropped it to the floor with the knife.
I didn't need to look at the life drain from his body. It was done. The monster was gone.
I turned away, his blood coating my palms, covering my clothes, and when I looked at Hammer, I was sure he would hate me. I was sure he would think I was a monster myself.
What kind of a woman would do this?
But instead, he put his arm around my shoulder and led me gently from the room. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said.
"The body," I whispered, still numb from what I'd just done.