I watch her through her front window. I’m concealed behind a mature tree. Every light in the house is on. The light breeze makes me shiver, and the faint smell of something cooking wafts my way. It’s a beautiful night, which makes the shadows moving around in the dense copse of trees seem out of place.
Reggie is closer to the front door than I am. He’s waiting for me to give the order, keys in his hand, but I’m transfixed by her face and the way she dances in the kitchen like she doesn’t have a care in the world. What I wouldn’t give for a fraction of that carefree grace. I get to live in her moment for a few more seconds before I glance at my watch. I nod at Reggie. He enters the house quietly, men in black suits follow behind him with all the supplies to do what needs to be done. Stepping closer to the window, I see when Reggie subdues her. When she’s tied to a kitchen chair, I walk in the door, my black boots clacking against the cheap linoleum floor. I draw the ratty curtains in the kitchen and spin to face her. Her eyes are wide, filled with terror, and yet still, familiar.
“Who are you? What do you want from me? I got no debts. My man got no debts! He’ll be home any second and you assholes are gonna pay for this.”
I see myself in her. Not because she has my eyes, either. Looking around, I see she’s living a best-case scenario for where she came from. “Bethany, my name is Destiny.”
She still looks confused, but Reggie has her tied tighter than he should. He is furious I’m here right now. It goes against all orders enacted to keep the baby and me safe. The only reason he agreed to help me is because he knew I’d do it alone if he didn’t come. The smoke detector starts beeping when the food on the stove begins burning. It no longer smells delicious. It’s ruined.
“I’m here because you stole someone important. I’m here because you are a monster. I’m here because Jesse Astor couldn’t be.”
That’s a name she knows, and her big eyes grow as realization dawns. “I didn’t do nothing! What did he say? I did nothing!”
“You killed his son, Bethany. Over a fight with your brother. A fight you thought he would throw and when he didn’t, you ruined what mattered the most to him.” A brother who gave her up willingly. Tonight, I had to be here. There wasn’t an option. My face matters. You killed a little boy and destroyed a man’s life. How could you be so cold and callous?”
My heart rate picks up as I pull a photo of Wyatt out of my pocket. He’s sitting on the floor playing with a dump truck. His eyes are Jesse’s eyes.
“You tied him to his bed,” I say, struggling to breathe. “And you burned the house down.”
“That’s bullshit,” she screams, hair a wild mess. “You’re fucking crazy!”
I tuck the sweet photo of Wyatt away, not wanting it to get damaged, and I pull out the other one. The bad one. The one that makes my skin crawl, and I slap it on the table in front of her. She took a selfie of herself holding a lit match with Wyatt tied up in the background. She sent it to Jesse the day he discovered the house was gone. After he knew Wyatt was dead. She didn’t give him time to bargain or barter.
“You didn’t give Jesse a chance to save the only thing in the entire world that mattered to him. Wyatt, a beautiful child, was used as a piece in your game.” I blow out a breath when the anger becomes a life form of its own.
Her gaze changes when faced with the photo and my words. She opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a cold look—a skill I didn’t know I possessed until this second. It almost feels like Jesse is in the room, giving me energy, giving me directions. Or maybe this is the person I know I need to become to survive. “Bethany, Jesse is dead. Wyatt is dead. Your brother gave you up, but you, you destroyed more than one life that day and you need to feel it. These are your last moments alive. It would be good for you to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”
Bethany spits in my face as her mouth spews words just as disgusting. “He said he loved you, didn’t he? He’s a liar. Jesse doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He told me he loved me. He lies to get his way. He always has.”
I swallow. Truth. She knows him.
“He was a horrible father. I did that boy a favor. He was gonna grow up and be a lowlife scumbag just like his father. His damn mother was a whore who died of an overdose. He didn’t have a chance. You should be thanking me.”
Gritting my teeth, my breath hitches in my throat. “It doesn’t matter who his mother and father are. People make their own fates. They decide who to become. Wyatt could have grown up to change the world. Where he came from means nothing. Do you know how I know that? You, a literal piece of shit human, are my blood relative.” I bring both hands to my chest. “You are my sister. I am nothing like you. I was never like you, though. My soul isn’t black. Blood relatives mean nothing to me.”
She narrows her eyes as if her brain can’t take another piece of information without exploding. “How, how do you know that?”
“I’m in the awkward position of knowing everything while you’re in the position of knowing nothing. I know where your friends live. I know the people you’re affiliated with and the foster home your children were placed in when you were deemed unfit.” I exhale. “Because my soul isn’t black, I’ll make sure they’re always taken care of, but you, you deserve no kindness.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I can’t be your sister. I don’t have any family.”
“Again, I know more than you. Remember how you said Jesse was using me? Well, he was. He kept me around because he was going to use me to get to you. He thought you would have a soft spot for a sister, but he underestimated your evil. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” I lick my lips. “And Jesse would have been a great father.” I think of the painting of Wyatt and the overwhelming guilt and sadness he carried. I nod at Reggie, and he lays down a pen and a piece of paper. His hands are gloved. This was thought through from every angle, and this is the only way it can’t be traced.
“Bethany, write a note to your kids. Apologize to them for everything. Tell them what you did to Wyatt and explain to them the guilt you carry because of it. Make it good, too. These are your last words.”
“Fuck you. I won’t do it.”
I laugh once. “You will, or I’ll make this painful.”
“My boyfriend will be home soon.”
“And my men outside will kill him.” Reggie loosens her hands from the rope strapping her from the chair.
She stutters. “Who, who, are you? You can’t be my sister. Look at you.”
“The letter. Write it.”
Bethany picks up the pen, her hand shaking. The nails on her long fingers are dirty and bitten. “I… I can’t write.”