I’ve been prayingfor Reade as his lifeless body sits in my favorite chair. I used the arm he abused me with to cleanse him. After I whipped him with his belt to the point of tears and … blood, I used every last strength I had to shove it down his throat.
He only choked for a little while.
I showed him mercy by wrapping my hands around his throat and pressing down against the fist with as much force as I could muster.
I pressed and pressed until he stopped gurgling. Until the last gasp of air left him—after the echo of his neck snapping stopped bouncing off the walls.
I blink a few times and push my hair out of my face.
The Bitch Mother will be so angry if she finds out what I’ve done but I don’t know how to hide this from her.
I need advice,I tell myself as I turn the chair around to face the live stream then walk out of the room.
“Hello?” I call out softly in the darkened hallway.
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And do you feel better now? Has the weight on your soul subsided?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do now, Grace?”
“I don’t know. I need your help.”
“You need to look into my eyes first. Cross the hallway and go into the forgotten chapel. It’s where I’ve been praying so diligently for you.”
I begin to wring my hands as I walk into the room across the way. I’ve always known where she was but I’ve been afraid to face her. I’ve done everything I can to chase her away when she tries to help me because she’s always been far too kind to me. She’s wanted to help me ever since I was first caned by the Bitch Mother, but I’ve continued to shun her at every turn.
And still, now when I need her help the most, she’s willing to put all that aside.
My feet shuffle as I enter the forgotten chapel.
“Come into the light, Grace,”she instructs me in her sweet timber.“I’m not going to hurt you.”
I take a deep breath as I walk toward the candles. They’ve always been lit; I just choose to block out any light I can see—real or otherwise.
Once I’m standing in front of the old mirror hanging on the wall between the candles, I look into her eyes and she smiles so sadly at me.
"I wish it never went this far.”
“It’s not my fault,” I tell her as my lower lip begins to tremble. “I tried to be good, but it was never enough. No one cared about me under this roof—only the strangers who watch me through a lens. Don’t I deserve to feel wanted to?”
A tear rolls down her cheek, and when she reaches up to wipe it away, I can feel it on my flesh too. She looks so different than she used to—sad, every last ounce of hope she held for me as shattered as the tears that are streaming down her face.
“You can’t live like this, Grace,”she says softly.
“I can’t?” I ask in confusion. “Then what do I do?”
“Rest, sweet girl. Maybe when you awaken, we’ll be together again. One instead of two and you’ll remember what it was like to feel loved in death than in this life that was dealt to you.”
Another tear rolls down her face, another drop of sanity splashes against my bare chest.
I miss being with her.
We used to be the same until the Bitch Mother took to caning me nightly. I would hide in this room and pray for help, but it never came.