Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(3)

I had done the opposite. Grief had consumed me, caused me to turn in on myself instead of facing my demons head-on. They’d piled up inside and eaten away at me, rendered me useless, unable to function properly, and created a whole new set of hardships.

My demons were always growing, welling up within me, until they were too many—too many to name or count, let alone deal with.

And so I’d snapped, unable to take another second of it. Of this life. Of his fist colliding with my face, of his body crudely taking what I wasn’t offering, of his harsh words often followed by laughter and scorn. I’d snapped.

And there my consequences lay. Bloody. Mangled. Dead on our marriage bed. But even dead and finally silent, I could still hear his laughter. It echoed loudly throughout this old building, bouncing off the walls, coming at me from every direction.

You’re worthless, Leisel. You’re nothing. No one. Do you hear me? You’re nothing, Leisel, nothing! You’re a hole to f*ck, a pretty face and an empty head. A stupid, good-for-nothing…

And his hand would crack across my face, causing me to stumble, to cry out in pain and fall at his feet. He would laugh again and again. Call me more names. Blame me for my inability to produce a child. And then more tears would fall.

From those tears of pain and humiliation came the worst consequence of all. My pain, my anguish, and my agony made him feel his most powerful, victorious, and like all men who succumbed to bloodlust, I was his prize to be taken.

Only tonight, there had been too many tears. Too much pain. And while he’d continued to ravage me, hurting me, suddenly I’d gone numb to it all. Numb and then…angry.

And as he slept, I’d paced. I’d mumbled, crying, cradling the sore places on my body. I’d paced until the anger had taken over, too many thoughts inside of me, too many voices shouting at me, too much pain radiating from my skin and from my broken heart, too many unanswered questions spiraling around and around, and then all of a sudden I could no longer bear it, bear another second of hearing him snore so peacefully, without a care in the world, after my world had been destroyed and he’d forced me into his world, his world of misery, of my misery, and suddenly the knife he kept in his boot was glaring at me from across the room, a shiny beacon in the fog that I’d become, and the beacon was beckoning me, screaming at me until it was all I could hear, all I could see, and so I took that knife from its sheath and I held it above my husband’s body and as tears poured down my face, angry and full of determination, regardless of the consequences, I brought that knife down and drove it into his heart.

Again. And again. And again.

As I continued recalling the events that had concluded mere moments ago, a strange sort of calm began to spread across my goose-pebbled skin, soothing the burning nausea and relieving the crippling fear that held me hostage.

With a silent breath, I stood up and again surveyed the scene of my crime. Only this time, I wasn’t looking at my consequence. Instead I was seeing something altogether different, something utterly surprising.

Surprising because…after all, I’d wanted out of this world, hadn’t I?

I’d wanted to be free from this fear, from the pain, not just from that of my husband but from the world we now lived in. I wasn’t built for it, wasn’t built to survive in times of strife.

I was weak; I always had been. Only because of Evelyn had I made it this far. Only because of her had I not ended myself long ago.

And now I was free. I was finally blessedly free of this man.

“You were a terrible man,” I whispered fiercely. “Not a man at all.”

I’d known a good man, a true man. I’d loved him with all of me, and in return he’d loved me with all of him. Ours had been a partnership, a friendship, and a love affair all rolled into one. What I had lacked, he’d had in spades, and what he’d lacked, I’d made it my mission to make up for. And never once had he touched me out of anger or perversion.

That had been a marriage, and this…this had been a fallacy. A single-sided, self-serving game. This had been torture masqueraded as a duty to the continuation of the human race.

Killing him, that hadn’t been a mistake. It hadn’t been born of fear, but of anger. Killing him had been a necessity, a necessary evil. For the first time in my life, even if it meant the end of it, I’d finally done something brave. I’d finally saved myself.

With my bearings back, a steely resolve firmly in place, I turned away from what was left of the man I’d hated, from the life I’d detested. As I walked slowly toward my dresser with the intention of dressing, Evelyn’s face once again invaded my thoughts. Knowing I would be leaving her alone, a sliver of guilt wormed its way into my newfound resolution. She was not without friends, but they were all the same, fair-weather and self-serving, survival their only concern. For so long all Evelyn and I had had was each other; we trusted each other, depended on each other, reminded each other of a life now long gone.

Shaking my head, I shoved those feelings away. It was too late to do anything about it now. The damage was done, and Evelyn…she would survive this too.

Fully clothed now in tattered jeans and a threadbare thermal top, I turned toward my mirror and let out a shaky breath. I didn’t recognize this woman, the blood-spattered, bruised, and beaten-down woman. The same long dark hair fell past my shoulders, the same wide brown eyes stared back at me, the same pale, freckled skin shone white under the moonlight, yet I didn’t know her. I didn’t even want to know her.