“Praying.”
I bring the squirming rodent up to give it a gentle kiss on the head before I turn and force it down his throat. He’ll choke on the fucking thing, and where there’s one rat, there are many.
It’ll look like a freak accident.
Like me and my sister.
I gather my dress and get to my feet, lean down to kiss the bar man on his forehead, and chuckle as the rat’s legs writhe and wriggle, the tail flicking back and forth wildly.
As I roll the head of his cock between my fingers like a lucky charm, I realize that I’ll have to try again some other time.
Charlie got lucky tonight, but really it’s my fault.
I never could keep anything white clean.
Chapter Three
I pick the excised skin out of my teeth before I get up and walk into my bathroom. It’s not much; a metal basin much like the one I was forced to use at home: a bucket of water that’s kind of dirty, but it’s more than enough to wash my hands in for now and I can always walk down to the river later to get clean water.
I hadn’t even realized that I managed to skin him some; not that it makes a difference. He was a mean man who was too easily swayed by things he shouldn’t covet, and he broke one of God’s commandments.
God, I think bitterly as I pick up my bloody dress and shove it angrily into my makeshift sink. There isn’t a god in this world that would have stood by and watched what happened to me and Grace without stepping in to help us.
I gasp as a sting begins to permeate on my cheek.
I blasphemed in my thoughts and my natural reaction was to punish myself with a slap to the face like mother and father would have done were they here.
Mama and Papa always were able to hear our thoughts. Even the most private ones that we tried to keep buried deep inside of ourselves, they still heard them.
I learned that for myself the day they sent Grace away. Papa told me he heard the whispers in my head about my sister. Her whispers, and mine too. He said the only way to keep everyone safe would be to split us apart.
Bastard.
I reach into the bucket and scoop up some of the water, splashing it against my mouth. The bitter copper taste of blood and the salty taste of the man’s seed hasn’t gone away yet.
I scoop up more water, again and again, until I’m out of breath until I’m so close to drowning myself here on my knees. But I don’t stop until she tells me to.
That’s enough.
My face crumples instantly as I let out a strangled sob. She sounds so close even though I know she’s not. Her voice was always strong, forgiving, and understanding. Grace was the only person who ever loved me. Even after her mind snapped, she would recite her poem before each show.
Hail Mary full of hate …
She hadn’t forgotten me even though something inside of her didn’t quite work anymore.
I take a heaving breath as I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears. I tell myself that crying won’t bring her any closer to finding her than my being on my knees blubbering over it will.
I use the damp dress to wipe my face clean before I drop it into the bucket again and get to my feet. I’ll let it sit overnight then I’ll hang it outside in the morning if the sun is shining.
A shuddering breath escapes me as I walk back into my little bedroom. I grab one of the milk crates that a local garbage man was nice enough to try and soften for me. He told me that I could use it for a chair until he found something more suitable.
I like him.
He treats me like a person.
Every now and then he checks in on me and I do my best to smile whenever I see him. Unfortunately for me, smiling usually leads to bad things, so unless I’m ready to face them, I tend to keep a straight and somber expression on my face.
I push the milk crate closer to the edge of my mattress pile before I turn around and reach for one of the dresser drawers that never quite fit right. I prop it up against the back of the crate, forcing the side into the small, rectangular hole I managed to scrape out one night with my fingernails.
Sometimes, insomnia gets the better of me and that’s when I tend to do home improvements with what little I have. My hands were torn and bloodied by the time I was done, but I had managed to do a good enough job that I know that it’s useable as a chair back for now.
I rub my eyes one more time before I sit down on the crate and prop my feet up onto the mattress. I lean back cautiously, but when the drawer barely moves, I relax and stare at the wall behind my bed.
If I allow oblivion to swallow me whole right now, I’ll be able to focus my thoughts where they count the second most.
And that’s on Charlie.
I could have had him tonight, I think with a heavy sigh as a feeling of calm begins to wash over me. I get to my feet for a moment, walk over to the dresser, and retrieve the head of the mean man’s dick.
Once I’m comfortable on my chair again, I begin to gently pass it back and forth between my hands.
I should have taken the rat after it ate his insides. I think Grace would have liked that more than this, but any
