Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Mother let the knife clatter to the table. Mr. Patches was panting now, sweat beading on his forehead as tears rolled quickly down his cheeks. He swayed as if he might pass out, but Mother ignored him. “Now,” she said, pushing the chessboard forward when he’d seemed to get hold of himself, though he continued to sweat and weep. And bleed. “Fair is fair, isn’t it, Mr. Patches?”
He answered with a muted sob. His shoulders were shaking, and the area between his legs was a red sea of blood and ruined flesh.
“Danny Boy,” Mother said. “Seeing as this disgusting excuse for a human being’s hands are otherwise occupied, you’ll have to help him out. I realize it’s terribly unfair to ask you to assist this vile deviant in any way whatsoever, but I think you’ll like where this is going. You do have the strength, don’t you, darling?”
“Yes, Mother,” I said, and my voice already sounded stronger.
I felt stronger. Better. Because I did like where this was going. I liked it very much.
“You detest vile deviants as much as I do, don’t you, Danny Boy?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“The world is better without them,” she asserted.
Yes, Mother. Yes, indeed.
I pulled myself to my feet, inhaling a deep breath and letting it rush through my body. I walked to where Mr. Patches was tied to the chair and stood at his side, ready to make a move.
Mother smiled, sweetly, gently, her eyelids fluttering. My, but she was pretty, my mother. Pretty and perfect in every single way.
She looked at Mr. Patches, shaking and bleeding in his chair. “Let’s play a game, shall we?” she asked. “Winner takes all.”
Sienna set the papers in her lap. “Well.” Her hands felt shaky. Was this real?
“Another feel-good reading experience,” Kat said, obviously attempting to add some humor to her tone but falling flat. She came to a stop at a red light and turned to Sienna. “‘Mother’ sounds like a downright savage. I’m going to assume Mr. Patches didn’t fare well against her.”
“I think that’s a safe assumption,” Sienna said. She thought for a moment as the light turned green and Kat accelerated through the intersection. This was the neighborhood where she and Gavin had rented that tiny house so many years before. The one neither of them had ever lived in. She wondered what had become of it. After their wedding-that-wasn’t, she had called the landlord and left a message on his machine telling him they had to renege on their lease agreement. She hadn’t pursued the security deposit they’d scrounged up, even though she’d needed it, but she supposed the landlord could have attempted to force them to make good on the contract and pay in full, and he hadn’t, so Sienna had cut her losses on that front. Sienna had cut a lot of losses that year. A few hundred dollars was the least of them.
Her mind had begun to wander as she looked out at the neighborhood, and she forced her thoughts back to order. “Do you get a strange Oedipus vibe from these notes?” she asked Kat.
Kat made a clicking sound with her teeth. “That’s a good way to put it. There’s definitely something off about the way he talks about his mother. That’s why I still question the factual nature of the story,” she said, nodding to the papers in Sienna’s lap. “It has a fictional quality to it.”
“Yeah,” Sienna said, “I agree. It could be fictionalized too. Like it’s real, but he’s putting his own fantastical spin on it.”
“Right. Because if it’s all a head fake, what’s the point, you know?”
“I still think we should assume there’s something truthful to his story but continue to question what feels off . . .” Sienna’s words faded as the GPS instructed Kat to turn, and Sienna realized this wasn’t only the neighborhood where she and Gavin had rented the house they’d planned to live in as husband and wife; it was the very same street.
Kat pulled up in front of a ramshackle house, a large tree shading the curb. No, this is different. It has to be. Kat was saying something, but Sienna was only half listening as she got out of the car, following along behind her partner, trying to make sense of where she was. Surely she was mistaken. She’d been thinking about the house and confused herself. This isn’t it, merely similar. The place they’d rented had been shabby, but it hadn’t been dilapidated like this one. There hadn’t been a foreclosure sign lying flat in the patchy grass. The tree near the fence had been twiggy and small. Kat and Sienna approached the house, the door open just a crack. A hum took up under Sienna’s skin, and she held her breath as Kat nudged the turquoise door open with her foot, the pent-up air coming out in a harsh exhale.