Page 11 of A Past Too Broken (Bloodstained Love #1)
Six Months After Stabbing
I t’s time. After years of planning, of even longer wishing for it to happen, it’s finally time for the final name on my list.
The winter air is biting cold, and the sound of my boots crunching through the snow is loud in my ears. Anticipation thrums through me, and warmth spreads through my limbs from my core at the thought of how close I am to all of this finally being finished.
I have to take a few deep breaths when my excitement threatens to take over. If I’m not in complete control, it could lead to costly mistakes.
My heart flutters as the anticipation curls through me. It takes all of my concentration to breathe normally, but it’s nothing to pick the lock and swing open the door leading off the laundry room into the side yard.
As quietly as possible, I creep into the room and close the door behind me. It latches with a quiet snick , but I still hear it; every sense is in overdrive and hyperaware.
Tentative steps take me to the door opposite the one I came in through. The rest of the house lies behind this door, and if I close my eyes, I can see the entire layout.
I have a gun and knife on me, as well as a vial of poison. I couldn’t choose. There are so many ways I imagine this day, and choosing which is hard, so I brought them all. I’ll decide when I’m face to face with him .
Pulling my knife out, I set my hand on the doorknob, take a slow, deep breath, and remind myself this is it. After tonight, I can lay my demons to rest.
Stepping into the kitchen has my heart racing. I close my eyes for a moment, shoving down the fear, anger, and despair that want to rise and consume me.
On quick but silent feet, I make my way through the kitchen to the living room. The smell of cigarettes hangs in the air and I wrinkle my nose. It’s almost overpowering, choking me. Unlike the one time I was close enough to Zay to smell the cigarette smoke on him; then, it hadn’t bothered me. Whether it was because I wasn’t conscious long enough, or because it was Zay , I don’t know. I’d rather not analyze it.
The living room is dark, the curtains opened just enough to let some of the light in. Thankfully, it’s a clear winter night, so there’s enough moonlight for me to navigate the room by.
The hallway leading to the bedrooms is short, with only a bathroom between the two rooms. Pausing at the first door, I slowly open it, taking a quick peek inside, but nothing but the smell of mildew greets me. I close the door, careful not to slam it closed.
Bypassing the bathroom, I head straight for the other bedroom, knife at the ready, body thrumming with the need for this to be over with already.
I’m a step away from reaching for the doorknob when I’m grabbed from behind. A large, meaty hand covers my mouth, and a gasp lodges in my throat.
“You thought you were so clever,” he says into my ear. “You seem to have forgotten who taught you everything you know.”
Flipping the knife in my hand, I change the grip, preparing for the fight ahead. He chuckles, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. Every repressed emotion rises to the surface, and even though I struggle in his grip, he anticipates my moves and holds me tightly against him.
The feel of his body pressed to mine makes my stomach roll, and bile sears the back of my throat.
Being back here—at the scene of the crime, so to speak—is harder than I anticipated. I’ve spent years waiting for this moment. So much time spent training and planning on how to kill the literal monster in my nightmares, but nowhere in all those plans did I factor in the mental and emotional toll it would take.
I worked hard on becoming what I needed to be in order to kill those who deserved it, buried all the memories and emotions that didn’t suit me or my cause.
So lost in my own thoughts and impending meltdown, I’m not prepared for him. He disarms me, and searing hot pain rushes through my body, cutting through the building panic.
“You’re pathetic,” he snarls, pulling the knife out and throwing me to the ground. “I should have killed you years ago.”
He walks away, leaving me bleeding out in the hallway of my childhood home.