He took a step back. “Good.”
“Tell her…warn her…help her,” Slither mumbled, and Manic and I looked his way. “Her pink dress. She looks so pretty. He’ll ruin it. He’s going to break her. Break, take, ache, cake. Cake. I don’t want to eat cake. Not tonight. No cake tonight.”
“What the fuck?” Manic stood frozen on the spot. “What’s going on with him?”
I brushed my hair back. “He’s delirious. He’s been hallucinating and mumbling shit ever since I came in here.”
Manic looked at me but pointed at Slither. “Is he talking about what happened to him and Wraith as kids?”
“I think so.”
Manic cautiously approached him, taking one slow step at a time. “Who’s going to break her?”
“Manic,” I objected. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Shush.” He held out his hand, and I really wished I had that pair of fucking shears.
“Is someone going to hurt your sister?”
Slither’s head rolled back, his eyes still fluttering open and closed. “He’s going to hurt her, just like they hurt me. I can’t help her. I’m too weak. Too weak. Too weak. I can’t help her.”
“Who hurt you?”
What the fuck was Manic doing?
Slither started laughing again, a loud cackle that freaked me the fuck out. It sounded like something from a goddamn horror movie.
“Mommy says it’s okay. It’s okay to make her feel good. She loves me. She’s lying.”
I stepped forward. “Manic, stop.” I didn’t like what was happening. He sounded too vulnerable, too broken, and I didn’t like how it made me feel. The emotions that suddenly stirred deep inside me. It was wrong.
“You’re a big boy now.” His voice became soft, his breathing labored after every word. “You’re a big boy.” Abruptly his head jerked to the side. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.” His voice trembled. “Please, it hurts. Stop. Stop.” His entire body shuddered, the chains rattling above him.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I pulled a palm down my face, unable to make sense of what the fuck I was witnessing.
“She’s screaming. I can hear her scream. Please. Stop. She’s screaming.”
My heart leaped up my throat, and I choked on a goddamn breath as Slither’s hallucinations of his past triggered the memories of mine.
“I don’t want to hear her scream. You’re hurting me. You’re hurting her. Get away. Get away!” he screamed. He screamed so loud, his voice fragmented into torturous cries, and it sent chills up my spine.
Manic stood frozen, as stunned as I was. “At the risk of sounding like a pussy, this is fucking worse than seeing him suffer with a broken leg. Far worse.” His gaze cut to me. “Is there something we can do to get him out of this”—he glanced at Slither—“this crazy fucking state he’s in?”
“I already adjusted the flow of the IV. It should start working soon.”
Another scream ripped from Slither’s throat, a sound of pure fear, a sound that made my stomach turn inside out.
After his screams subsided, his head lolled forward, exhaustion and pain digging its fangs into his body, but everything had already passed the point where it got weird as fuck in this room.
Manic brushed a palm down his face. “Jesus, his parents sure did a number on him.”
I narrowed my eyes, not trusting the hint of compassion I picked up on in his voice. “Manic, come on.” I grabbed his elbow, urging him toward the door. “We need to leave before he starts fucking with our heads. The IV should have him better soon.”
Manic and I walked out, but I took a last glance in Slither’s direction, his face screwed up in agony. But something told me it wasn’t from the burn on his face or the broken leg. He was in his own hell, his mind torturing him with memories from the past.
Nevertheless, there was nothing in this world that could change the hate I felt for this man, and I didn’t give a fuck what kind of childhood he had. We were all fucked up in some way or another, but that did not give us the right to destroy other people. So, I refused to feel sorry for him. A man’s cross was his own to bear, and only a coward unleashed his demons on others—which was exactly what Slither did the day he took Neon.
12