“Who?” Ken digs his knee in harder.
“You’re hurting him!” Mom cries from behind me on the bed.
“Shut up.” I smack her again.
“Stop this! You stop it right now!” she screams up at me. I drop my knife to the floor and reach for her throat. I’ll make her shut up.
“Dolly! No,” Ken yells, and I still. “We’ll keep her quiet another way. Get something to gag her with. A towel or something,” Ken orders, twisting his knee into Daddy and making him groan more.
I rush to my dresser and find my leggings. I need to grab more of them before we leave the house.
“Good.” Ken nods his approval. I bring them over to Mom. Panic sets in, and her eyes widen as I approach her.
“One second, Dolly,” Ken stops me as I get ready to gag my mother with my leggings.
“Don’t! Please.” Mom begs for my father as Ken readjusts his stance again. He lifts Daddy’s soft, small cock, and with a swish through the air, the cleaver makes a clean cut.
Daddy wails at the loss and pain, and Ken grips the fleshy muscle in his hand, bringing it to the bed. Daddy thrashes around on the floor, clutching at his crotch where blood spurts onto the floor. Heavy, tormented sobs escape him. He brings his knees upward, as though rolling into a ball will help with the pain.
Ken’s not distracted by the noises Daddy’s making.
“You want this so badly. Here.” Ken squeezes my mother’s cheeks until she opens her mouth and shoves it inside. He takes the leggings from me and maneuvers them around her mouth before she can push it out with her tongue. “Choke on his cock some more.” He ties the leggings behind her head and points a finger directly at her nose. “You should have been a good mother. You should have protected her and helped her. Instead, you fed the monster you married with—Your. Own. Daughter.” He grips her hair and drags her head back, exposing her neck.
Mom jerks her head away, trying to scream, but the leggings and cock gag have her muffled. Her face screws up with disgust as she tries to shove Daddy’s cock back out of her mouth.
“Keep that in there!” I yell, pressing my hands against her mouth. More stifled screams. Fat tears streak down her face. Her shoulders shake with her dense sobs.
I’ve had enough of her drama. There are worse things than what she’s being put through. Swiping my knife from the floor, I look to Ken for my next move. He catches my gaze and gives a nod.
The blade cuts easily through her throat as I drag it from one side to the other. Daddy always liked a sharp knife.
Blood spurts and drips while Mom’s stifled cries become garbled. She struggles for air, but she’ll never find it. I cut too good. It only takes a few long moments before the garbling stops and her head lulls to the side, life draining out of her eyes.
“Susanna!” Daddy cries pitifully. Ken and I turn back to my father, laying on the floor, both hands still pressed to his groin. Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the beige carpet.
“I’ll ask again. Who did you deal with?” Ken shoves Dad’s hip so he’s flat on his back again and squats over him.
“Please.” Tears escape, trailing down his wrinkled face. When had he gotten so old? “Please.”
“If I have to ask again, I’m just going to start taking off your fingers.” Ken sounds bored, but I know he’s as excited as I am about making Daddy pay.
“No. No. Okay…okay…” He sniffles. “Fuck!” he screams, the muscles in his neck straining from the effort. “I needed cash fast and this guy…he’s been wanting to play with Gabby for a long time. I didn’t think he’d take her forever, just you know…for a little while.”
My chest hurts. “You rented me out?” I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. Can there even be a good side to this?
“No. He didn’t want to do that, he…fuck…his name is Mortimer Montgomery.”
“How do I find him?” Ken grabs Dad’s jaw and yanks his face until he’s staring up at him. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. There’s a phone number. In my phone. Morty. Contact is Morty.” He ends his confession on a sob. “Please. No more. Please.” Is he begging to live or die?
After all the pain he’s given me, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the fear—he wants mercy.
“Ken.” I touch his shoulder. “Let me?” I keep my voice low. Daddy doesn’t own me anymore.
Ken nods and climbs off of Daddy, kneeling beside him and giving me the room I need.
“You hurt me,” I say to him, moving down to my knees. His blood soaks through my pants, the warmth spreading over my skin. “You’re a bad man.” I grip my knife with both hands. He’s hurt and bleeding too much. Leaving him now would mean certain death. But I’m not done yet. He has to know what he did. He has to know he lost.
“You’re a bad man. But I’m a good girl.” I raise my knife and jam it in his chest, then lean forward, putting my weight on the handle until it slides into his chest all the way up to the hilt. “See, I told you I learned my anatomy.” I could have made it hurt. I could have tortured him. But that would make me like him.
And I won’t let him win.
I’m a good girl.
Eighteen
KENDOLL
“Do you think we’re going to hell?” Dolly’s question makes my fingers still over the keyboard.
She’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, the soft glow from the bathroom throwing her expression into the shadows. I’m in a hurry. We need to get what we can off his computer—bank information, contacts, any other videos—and clear out of the house. It’s nearly three in the morning. People are going to start getting up for work soon.
But her question freezes me. She’s strong. I don’t worry that she’ll crumble beneath the weight of what we’re doing, but those were her parents. This is her home. She’s bound to question our actions.
“Come here.” I crook my finger at her. She shuffles to me, her feet in new shoes, dressed in black leggings and a button-down plaid blouse.
“I know we have to go,” she says, eyeing the computer in front of me. I take her hands and squeeze them between my fingers.
“We have a little time.”
“I’m not scared,” she defends. “My thoughts are running around in circles.”
“What can I do to help?” I run my thumb over her knuckles.
“Can I just sit here with you?”
“Of course.” I push back to give her room to sit on my lap. Instead of climbing onto me, she sinks to the floor next to me and folds her legs beneath her. Resting her head on my leg, she sighs. A calm runs through me at the weight of her on me as I run my fingers over her temple, stroking her while I go back to looking through the files on the hard drive.
It will be easier to copy them all and dive deeper back at the motel. I open the drawers of the desk until I find a flash drive and plug it into the computer. Her father was old school—no laptop to be found. He had the video playing on a disc in her room, where are the others?