Page 3 of The Secrets We Bury

“I’ll get you an appointment with the gynecologist,” she says. “Don’t skip it.”

It would have been easier had she slapped me instead.

“The gynecologist?” I repeat, my own voice sounding miles and miles away.

Mom lifts her phone and starts tapping frantically again. “Yes,” she says. “It’s important. I’ll make sure to have my assistant reach out with the details—it’s better to get these things out of the way sooner rather than later.”

With that, Mom lifts her coffee mug and heads for the sliding glass doors leading onto the back veranda. She doesn’t say goodbye and she doesn’t look back at me as she leaves. It wouldn’t have mattered if she did. Those words of hers have done what the nightmare couldn’t.

They break me.

1

NOLAN

Blood runs in long rivulets towards the center of the old, chipped porcelain sink that’s long since lost its white shine. Now, it’s a yellowed bowl with creaking pipes that spit out water more brown than clear. Still, at least it’s not red and it helps to wash off the evidence of my crimes.

Cupping my hands beneath the spout, a few particles of dirt flood over my palm, and I don’t care. I take the filthy water and scrub my face free of the blood. Then I splash some onto my throat and grab the old towel that’s been hanging in this shithole since before I can remember.

As soon as my hands close around the stiff fabric, I regret my decision and immediately release it. Gripping the hem of my black t-shirt, I jerk it up and use it to mop up my skin.

The mirror hanging over the sink is a narrow slit with a giant crack that bisects it from one upper corner down to the center of the frame. It reflects back at me the reality that I’ve always known.

I am a killer.

A vengeful monster.

And I have no regrets.

My fingers curl around the edges of the bowl and I lean forward until my forehead presses into the cool surface of the mirror. When I close my eyes, images flash through my mind.

Juliet standing over those men, her small hand tightening on my gun, lifting it, then pulling the trigger.

As certain as if she signed away her soul, tonight she became one of us. My cock jerks against my pants, pressing into the metal teeth of my zipper. A shudder works through me.

At the beginning of our journey of blood and revenge, I’d thought we could have it all, my boys and I. That we would get rid of everyone that hurt us and those we love and then we’d be home free. Kill them. Bury the evidence. Then move on and find real lives.

Graduation. College. Jobs. Lives.

Normalcy.

The truth is—none of us are normal.

Normal men wouldn’t trick their own fathers out into the middle of bumfuck nowhere and then murder them in cold blood. Normal men wouldn’t find it easy to dismantle bodies. They wouldn’t get off on the vision of a woman killing her own kidnappers.

Normal is over-fucking-rated. We’re meant for greater things and so is she.

The door shudders as a fist impacts the other side and Gio’s voice drifts through the wood. “Yo, we’re almost done out here, you ’bout ready to head back?”

Turning away from my own reflection, I grip the rusted knob and twist. Gio stands on the other side, one brow arched as he glances over my face and neck. He grimaces. “You missed a bit.” He tries to point to a place just above the neck of my shirt, but I wave him off.

“It’ll have to wait for a shower,” I say. “The water here’s no good.”

“When has it ever been?” Gio retorts.

I don’t respond as I step into the main section of the cabin and wrinkle my nose. The smell of piss and shit lingers in the air, clinging to my pores and invading my senses with its offensive odor. My eyes find the three shapes piled one atop the other in the corner. Covered in black plastic bags and duct-taped shut, the smell of death still lingers.

“We’ll need to deal with them before we head out.”