“No!” I boomed out and rushed over. Maddie looked up at the sound of my voice. Instantly, she scurried off the door, her back hitting the wall. Then, for the first time in three days, I felt the flames awaken under my skin. The flames that hadn’t stirred once began to move.
And I began to pace, the need to get my blade taking hold. Then— “Flame?” Maddie’s soft voice stopped me in my tracks. I fought to breathe, to calm down. I looked down to where she sat. Instead she was on her feet. And she was holding that fucking blade in her hand.
And for some reason, the thought of her holding that fucking blade in her hand inflamed my blood. Because it was his. And all it did was hurt. It was my fucking curse.
“Give me the knife,” I snapped, but Maddie stepped back, taking the knife with her. “Maddie—”
“Have you ever been back?” Maddie questioned, shutting me down.
I frowned. Maddie drew in a deep breath and stepped closer. “Have you ever been back to the house where you grew up?”
The air left my lungs at the mention of that fucking house. My hands fisted at my sides and I shook my head.
Maddie stepped even closer. “Do you know where your father went to? Do you know what happened to him?”
I flinched as the thought of my poppa pierced my mind. I shook my head. “No. I have no fucking idea what happened to that cunt,” I snarled. Then Maddie lifted the blade and held it out for me to take.
Maddie walked back into the bedroom and I watched her go. I looked down at the rusted old blade in my hand. All the feelings, about being trapped in that fucking hellhole, rushed back. I looked across at the hatch. The hatch installed when the cabin was built. The door that reminded me I was evil. A place to leach away the flames.
A place where he could continue to take me…
I suddenly felt sick.
Dropping the knife to the floor, I staggered back into the bedroom, to find Maddie on the bed. She was sitting down, naked, with her arms wrapped around bent legs. She was crying.
“Maddie,” I whispered as I inched forward.
She lifted her head and spoke. “In my life I had two things that I used to pray for. Two things that I imagined, if I could just obtain, I would be set free.” Maddie wiped at her cheeks. “I wanted Moses to die. I wanted to stand above him and know he was dead. And I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to feel safe in my heart. I wanted to know that I would never again be hurt.” She sniffed. Looking me dead in the eye, she emphasized, “And you gave me both. In fact, you gave me more than I wished for. Because you also gave me you. I fell in love with you. And I can touch you. I can make love to you, and I know completely, that I will not be hurt.”
My stomach turned and my chest tightened. Then she said, “You are living in a world where you do not know if your torturer is alive or dead. You lived in a house which echoes the methods under which you suffered.” She lifted her head and asked, “Of course your fractured soul cannot be fully… fully… unfractured. Because you are living with uncertainty, you are not truly free.”
Hating to see her crying, I hesitantly moved closer, and whispered, “Maddie.”
I could hear my deep voice break in my ears. Maddie lowered her bent legs and opened her arms. “Come to me,” she hushed out. I rushed to the bed and lay beside her, crushing her to my chest.
I held her as she cried in my arms. But all I could think about was what she’d said. I never knew what happened to my poppa. I never knew what happened to him after I left. What happened to our house? What happened to Isaiah’s body?
I then thought of the hatch in my living room. The one I’d never had the courage to open or step inside. But the one I kept to remind me of what I was—wrong. Evil. That I was darkness. That I was motherfucking death.