Page 26 of Devoured

“Right.”She laughed—short and bitter. “Keep telling yourself that. See how far it gets you when—”

“Why are you here?”I asked, cutting her off. The whole history of the place was really freaking me out.

Marion was quiet for a moment.

“You sure you want to know? Once you hear this, you can’t unhear it.”She chuckled.

“We’re stuck in solitary together. Might as well,”I answered.

“I was seventeen when I had her. Emma. My baby girl.”Her voice got soft. “I was messed up back then. Using, bipolar but nobody knew yet. Gave her up for adoption. Thought I was doing right by her.”

I stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“Ten years later, I got clean. Got my head somewhat straight. And this... this need hit me. To see her. To know she was okay.”Marion’s voice cracked. “Took me months to find her through the system. When I finally did...”

She stopped. I could hear her breathing get ragged.

“I knew the signs,”she whispered. “I had lived them. The way she flinched. How she walked. The bruises she tried to hide. Her adoptive father was... he was doing things. Things nobody should ever do to a child.”

“Marion...”my voice shook.

“I followed them for weeks. Watched. Made sure. Then one night, I climbed through her bedroom window. Caught him in the act.”Her voice went flat. “I killed him right there. First with my bare hands. Then with a knife from their kitchen. Made sure he felt every second of it.”

The confession shocked me. And somehow it didn’t.

“After that, it was like something woke up in me. A thirst.”She let out a short, joyless laugh. “I found others like him. Men who hurt kids. Killed eight more before they caught me.”Marion laughed again, bitter and broken. “They said it was the bipolar. Said I was delusional. But I knew exactly what I was doing. Every single time.”

“You were protecting the kids,”I said softly.

“Was I? Or was I just feeding something dark inside me?”Marion’s voice was barely audible now. “Either way, here I am. And here I’ll stay.”

Neither of us spoke after that. The weight of her words made silence the only response.

Then a huge yawn broke the quiet.

“Shit. Sorry,”Marion muttered. “They gave me something new this morning. Some blue pill with breakfast.”Another yawn. “Makes me so fucking tired.”

I heard her shifting—probably lying down.

“Marion?”

“Mmm. Gonna sleep now. Can’t... can’t keep my eyes open.”

Within minutes, her breathing deepened through the wall. Whatever they’d given her had knocked her out cold.

I sat there alone, thinking about Margaret. About demons. About all the things I wished were just stories.

Some time later, the temperature in my cell began to drop. My breath fogged in the air, and I knew what was coming.

“Miss me?”Theo stood in the corner, blood still fresh on his shirt.

“Because I’ve missed you. Missed reminding you what a cunt you really are.”

He stepped forward, and I saw all his wounds—the hollow where his penis had been.

“Look what you did to me. And for what? Still ugly. Still worthless. Only now you’re crazy too.”

I pressed myself against the wall. This was the ritual—he would appear, torment me, list my failures, and eventually fade when the sun came up.