Page 72 of Heartless Heathens

“This is dirty.” I looked at her questioningly, recognizing the dry blood staining the blade.

“Sonny… in the bathroom… yesterday…” She stumbled through her words, and I smirked at her pathetic attempt to explain herself.

“Who liked it more? You cutting him, or him getting cut by you?” I raised my eyebrows high, waiting for her answer.

Her mouth gaped open as the gears in her brain worked full speed to catch her up to the fact that I’d set her up, and that the knife was most definitelynotgoing to protect her from Sonny. Her face went red, and she tried to bite her lips to hide her expression.

It didn’t work.

“Youknew?” she whisper-yelled like she couldn’t believe it.

“That Sonny was into some freaky shit? Yeah. And now I know you are too.” I pointed out and she opened her mouth wider like she was going to dispute somehow, but she failed to find an argument.

She ripped the knife out from my hand and her nostrils flared at me angrily. She didn’t break eye contact and she threw the knife at the wall with all the rage her tiny little body could contain without bursting. It would have been epic, but the knife just bounced off the wall and hit the ground.

I barked out a laugh and her eyebrows furrowed hard into her face.

“So what is it, little lamb? You embarrassed that you like what you like, or is it just that Catholic guilt eating you up? Archbishop’s God got all your panties in a bunch?” I asked, picking up another knife and throwing it at the target, this time getting the red dot in the middle.

I handed her another knife.

She took it, her lips pressed to a flat line like she wasn’t impressed at my previous throw and was somehow annoyed at me.

It was kind of fucking cute, not a reaction I’d seen from her before and for some reason it felt more genuine than her little innocent act. Okay so maybe she was pretty innocent, but you couldn’t call a girl that, when you just found out she was getting off to cutting your friend while they boned.

I was pretty sure Felix was fucking her too.

Which just circled me back to that same deep loathing inside me.

I fucking hated missing out.

Being left out.

Always being a few steps behind.

She turned to face the target and swung her arm backwards before thrusting the blade at the paper, this time it actually hit the target, but still bounced off without sticking to the wall. She was a caricature of an old-timey cartoon with steam coming out of her ears while she flared her nostrils even wider and let out a high pitched grunt of frustration without ever opening her mouth.

I tried to hide my amusement but when she glanced up at me, it only fueled the silver-haired tiny ball of rage. She grabbed another knife but this time I interfered, ready to give her some pointers.

“Want some help?” I asked, holding her arm back before she hurled one of my favorite knives against the termite ridden walls.

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at me like she wasn’t happy about it.

“Pull your shoulders back,” I draped my fingers over her and adjusted her posture for her. “Keep your wrist firm, and hold it like this.” I repositioned her hand so that she was gripping the handle like a hammer, the point of the blade facing backwards.

“Now, keep your elbow tucked in tight, and take a deep breath.” She followed each cue like she lived for taking direction. “Focus on where you want the blade to go, and try to imagine you want it to go through the bullseye, not just hit it.”

She batted her eyelashes up at me like she was trying to take all the information in, I pulled back to let her have another try and she turned her gaze to the target. She squared her shoulders and with a sharp jerk the knife flew and landed on the wall an inch to the side of the paper. She twisted her head my way sharply for approval and a fox-like grin spread across her face.

“Why don’t you take your medicine?” she asked again and I held back from rolling my eyes.

“Because I don’t like what it does to me.” I looked everywhere but at her. “It’s like being trapped inside yourself. Like watching someone else drive the car off the road.”

“I understand.”

She didn’t wait, she grabbed another blade and went at it again, this time hitting the paper and not straying too far from the bullseye itself. She let out a proud squeal to herself and reached into the box again. She threw knife after knife until eventually she looked over my way again and raised an eyebrow, she held out a knife to me.

An offering.