Mind Games - Page 231

Chores, church, visiting his decrepit old grandparents.

Up here, he did what he wanted.

He liked smashing flies, and ants. He’d learned if you dropped some sugar or honey on the floor, those ants came marching. Then you could stomp the shit out of them.

He caught lightning bugs at night and peeled the wings right off them. Lights out!

And butterflies would tear like paper if you did it right.

He’d hidden an air rifle up here. He’d stolen it because he was good at stealing and he’d wanted it.

He should have what he wanted.

If you were quiet enough, got close enough, that air rifle would do a number on a bird.

The neighbor’s cat liked to roam the neighborhood like he owned it. He’d been easy to catch and lure into the sack with raw hamburger. Maybe he’d gotten pretty mad about that, but a good whomp against a tree—not too hard, just hard enough—quieted him right down.

Now, up in the tree house, he opened the sack. Some blood, and that excited him, but old Tom was breathing. Insects died so easy. He wanted something that took more, lasted longer.

He had his father’s hammer and one of the penknives he’d stolen, since his parents wouldn’t buy him one. He couldn’t decide which to use first, then the cat started to stir.

He lifted the hammer. He’d break one of its front legs. Let it try to roam around and climb trees like he owned the place then!

As he lifted it, Thea spoke.

“Don’t do that, Ray.”

The hammer slipped out of his hand as he jumped to his feet. A little boy with a killer already alive in his eyes.

“Who are you? How’d you get here?”

“You know who I am, Ray.” She wore workout tights now for easy movement, a snug tank top, her hair in a braid.

She’d kept the watch and earrings, the key. She wanted him to see them.

“Don’t hide inside a kid. And don’t think I won’t kick your ass if you do. Because I know who you are.”

It was the man who reached down for the hammer, and the man she kicked straight out of the tree house door. As the man in her mind hit the ground with a bone-snapping thud, the one across from her in the room jolted.

“First round, you lose.” She climbed down. “And it’s your leg that’s broken. Bet it hurts. And look, Tom’s a little dazed, but he’ll be fine. Heading for home.”

“This didn’t happen. It didn’t happen.”

She leaned down close. “I’m making it happen. Time for another chapter, Ray. Better get up. I’m getting away, too.”

In the prison room, he tried to choke out words, but she dragged him under again.

Sixteen now, pale, rail thin. He’d already left home. Goodbye and fuck you. One day he’d go back, burn the house down with them in it. Try to send him to a shrink? Talking about military school or church camp and all that bullshit?

He knew what they thought. He always knew. He was better than them, than anybody. And he could have whatever he wanted. Take whatever he wanted.

Like this girl he’d found on the street. Give her a bed for the night—in a dump, but he had to stretch the money for now. All she had to do was put out.

She hadn’t argued.

Now he had her naked and he pumped and pumped and pumped himself into her. She made all those noises like they did in porn videos.

But he couldn’t, just couldn’t. And he heard her thinking how he couldn’t, felt her rolling her eyes, smirking, faking the noises because she needed a place to sleep.