Thirty-Eight
Camille
WasI disappointed that I didn’t see Brennan for the rest of the very long day?
Yes.
But... I got to spend most of it with Inessa. After I sent her a picture of my new dresses, she’d come over and we’d converged in the living room, and together, we worked on my hair and nails. Of course, that didn’t takeallday, but catching up did.
We had a lot to make up for, and it was interesting that killing Father was what mended the bridge between us.
Well, partially, at least.
The blood on my hands, on my soul, didn’t stop me from enjoying my middle sister to the max.
As she poured me a mimosa, heavy on the orange juice considering I needed to becompos mentisfor the gala later on, I told her, “It’s nice to see you happy, Innie.”
Her nose crinkled at the nickname. “Innie? Ugh, haven’t I grown out of that yet?”
I grinned at her. “Nope.”
She blew me a raspberry, proceeded to take a massive gulp of her drink, which was light on the OJ, before flopping back against the squashy cushions of the sofa. I’d decided to make our base camp here because it was closest to the kitchen—girls had needs, after all.
“You’re right though. Iamhappy, which is kind of messed up, considering, ya know, everything.”
I shrugged. “You won’t see me disagreeing.”
Her head rocked back against the cushions for a second, before she tipped her chin forward to frown at me. “What did it feel like?”
I could have prevaricated, but I didn’t see much point. We were both glad the bastard was dead—for different reasons, of course. I just prayed she never learned that Mama had been set up by our father to be killed in the most gruesome and horrendous way a woman could be murdered.
I’d do everything in my power to make sure she never learned that horrific truth.
“It didn’t feel like anything,” I told her slowly, pausing in the application of my false eyelashes. I stopped peering at myself and looked instead into the murky cocktail we were both drinking. “I was... it was like I was in a blackout. I couldn’t tell you what it felt like, just that I couldn’t stop. Once I started, I had to carry on until it was, well, over.
“I was tired of him being a threat, tired of him tainting every breath we take. When he went to hurt me again, I was so frightened,” I whispered, shivering with the memory. “I’d already armed myself, but I didn’t think I’d use it.
“It started in self-defense... he went to grab me, and it just clicked in my mind that I didn’t have to be frightened of him. I could run and he couldn’t catch me, but when he grabbed my hand—” I released a breath, before repeating, “It just clicked in my mind.”
“Does it give you nightmares?”
I winced. “I suppose it should.”
“Meaning it doesn’t?”
“No. I sleep quite well.”
Her lips twisted. “Regular orgasms do that for a woman, I guess.”
We shared a grin. “How’s... everything down below?”
Nose crinkling again, she mumbled, “Almost back to normal. It’s been strange not being able to touch him like that.” Her gaze turned distant. “I think it’s made us closer. I’d tell him again just to stop it from getting worse... so that’s something.”
“He was annoyed you didn’t tell him, wasn’t he?”
“Furious.” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “I’ve never seen him so mad, and trust me, I’ve seen him go postal.”
A short laugh escaped me. “I can believe it.”