I roll the rose harder through my fingers—faster. The sharp thorns slice through my flesh. The small amount of pain offers me a semblance of release.
Sometimes witnessing the torture these kids go through makes me want to slice open my own skin and feel the pain alongside them. I want to ease their pain by creating my own. Maybe if I’m bleeding out on an altar next to them, they won’t feel so fucking alone.
But I don’t. The urge is unfounded and I recognize that. I recognize that I need to be strong, not weakened from blood loss and my mental state hanging on by a fraying thread.
If I’m going to save these kids and destroy the skin trade, then I need to be at my best. They need me to be strong and capable because they can’t be.
The video restarts. I snarl, the cries of the boy renewed, filling the otherwise silent space around me.
I’ve studied the video closely, just like I did the last one, searching for any type of clue. But I could detect nothing. Nothing significant that would lead me to where exactly these rituals are taking place.
Just four people dressed in black robes, surrounding a stone slab. From what I can see, the entire area is rock, emulating a cave of sorts.
But I’m not stupid enough to believe these men have found some cave in a mountain to sneak off into. This is a manmade cave, somewhere deep in the underbelly of Seattle. Someplace that no random civilian could accidentally stumble upon.
The whole reason I moved to Seattle six months ago was because of this dungeon. Originally, I was born and raised in California. But when the first video leaked, I was able to get a ping from the person’s IP address that revealed Seattle as the original location.
They haven’t made the same mistake twice.
This job gives me the freedom to live wherever I want, so it took only a day to settle on moving to Washington, where I could find the hellhole and destroy it.
And times like these, where I’m at my lowest, I can’t help but feel like it also changed my life in the best of ways. It brought me to Addie, after all.
My head drops low between my shoulders, tension threading throughout my overused muscles.
The black cloud surrounding me darkens, sucking me in deeper as the video loops around again. I curl the rose, crushing it tightly in my fist. My hand trembles from the pain and the force in which I’m squeezing the flower.
I continue to crush it until it’s nothing but crinkled petals and a crushed stem painted in the blood pouring from my hand.
I grit my teeth, just barely holding onto the sorrowful wail that threatens to leave my lips.
This—this is the destruction from what I do.
Some days, it’s hard to live with. Some days, I can barely stand from the weight of this cruel world resting on my shoulders.
But I know if I don’t, my life would be worthless, and those kids would have died for nothing.
Chapter 13
The Manipulator
“I just got back the first round of edits,” I say to Marietta through the phone. “I’m starting on them tonight.”
“Wonderful, let me know if you need anything,” she says.
I’m walking down my dimly lit hallway towards my room when a flash of movement catches my eye. I freeze, my finger just pressing the red button when I see what looks like a woman disappearing through the attic door.
A smile forms on my face before I can stop it.
In all the years I’ve been in this house, I’ve only seen an apparition a few times. More often, I’ve heard voices, footsteps, doors slam and felt the freezing drafts, but rarely anything visual.
But I know what I just saw.
A woman in a white dress with tight blonde curls. I didn’t see her face, but there’s a distinct feeling that it was Gigi.
Nearly dropping my phone rushing after her, I run down the hall and swing the attic door open. It’s pitch black leading up the stairs, and there’s that nervous tickle in the back of my brain, but it doesn’t stop me.
I tap the flashlight on my phone and quickly make my way up the stairs. A heavy weight of foreboding presses down on my shoulders, but I trudge through it. Whoever that was, they wanted me to see something. I shiver from the feeling, both in fear and delight.