Wretched (Never After Series)

I spent three hours setting up the space before texting my sister and asking her to meet me here, so I could “show her the ropes,” since I blew her off yesterday. I’m going to enjoy watching her die.

My legs are crossed and my eyes closed as I sit calmly in the center of the hallway, directly outside the greenhouse door. The small pitter-patter of feet walking down the hidden closet’s staircase makes my ears perk up, excitement tingling down my spine. I’ve been waiting years for this moment.

I peel my eyes open, grinning as I look up at her. “Hello, Dorothy.”

“What are you doing?” she glances around. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’ll be here,” I say calmly, standing up. I move toward the door to press my fingerprint on the scanner, but Dorothy beats me to it. The light turns green, everything unlocking. My forehead wrinkles, realizing Cody must not have been able to hack into the system yet.

Not that it matters anymore.

She traipses into the greenhouse, her nose scrunching up as she looks at all of the poppies. “You know, for beautiful flowers, they really don’t smell that good, do they?”

“Subjective, I guess.” I murmur, my black skirt swishing as I move past her. “This way.”

I lead her down the two acres of flowers, flourishing in their various stages, and to the lab in the back, flicking on the lights and making my way to the metal table in the center of the room where my chemistry set is. I already have everything prepared.

“Wow, this is… intense,” she muses as she walks around, her eyeball magnified as she stares through a beaker.

“Yep,” I reply, pouring water into a small metal bowl as well as some of the raw opium I’ve recently finished extracting.

“What are you doing?” She hovers over the table to try and get a better look. “You should be explaining things, right? How am I supposed to learn otherwise.”

I smile at her. “Just getting things set up so I can show you how they work.”

“Oh. Okay.” She lifts a brow. “You’re being weird.”

“You know,” I say, taking the container and placing it over the Bunsen burner, slowly turning up the heat. “I want to apologize to you, Dorothy. I was out of line the other day. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Her eyes narrow.

I laugh, watching the opium melt into liquid form. “Something you said that night on the boat really stuck with me.”

“Really?” Her tone is disbelieving.

“Really,” I repeat, removing the liquid from the burner and grabbing the needle at my side. “You said that maybe if I dove in after Nessa’s shoes, they’d take me home to her. And in that moment, I was tempted, because nothing’s ever felt like home to me the way Nessa did.”

“I did us all a favor.” She scoffs. “Nessa was a bitch.”

I throw back my head and laugh. It’s high pitched and tense, and even to my ears, it sounds piercing.

Dorothy’s eyes widen. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.” I grin. “That’s what they say.”

Drawing back the plunger, I suck up the liquid opium, then hold the needle up to the light and flick the side, getting rid of air bubbles. “Wanna see?” I ask, holding it out to her.

She leans in. “Hm. Fascinating.”

“Anyway,” I continue. “I thought about how silly it would be for me to do that… to let you win. Even if it was my greatest heart’s desire to be with Nessa.”

I meander around the table, the needle at my side. Her eyes are flicking to it and then to me and she backs up a step.

“So the next time I ache for something I love? I’m not going out of my own backyard.” The toes of my shoes press against the tips of hers. “And I’d really, really, love to see you die.”

Bringing up the needle, I jab it into her neck, sticking the plunger so the opium pours into her bloodstream.

Her eyes frow round, her mouth dropping on a scream as she flails. I reach up, delight swimming through my veins as I cock back my fist and swing it forward, punching her right in the face until she drops to the ground.

Pain spreads through my knuckles and I shake out my hand, grabbing her stupid bouncy brown ponytail, the way I’ve dreamed of doing for years, ripping it from her scalp as I drag her over to the table. She’s crying and flailing, but I’ve got a good grip, and I turn around, enjoying the way her blood is pouring from her nose and staining her baby-blue top. I kick her in the side, then press my heel on top of her, sinking all of my weight until the satisfying pop of skin pushes my boot through. She screams again, her hands coming up to dig into my leg and I reach over quickly, picking up the zip ties I placed there just for this occasion.

As the opium starts to rush through her veins, she slackens.

“That’s right,” I coo, brushing the back of my hand down her face and then tying her wrists together before moving to her ankles. “Go to sleep for a bit, sweet sister. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything fun for another couple hours.”

“What’s another couple hours?” she mumbles, her eyes growing hazy.

I smile. “That’s how much longer you have to live.”

Sighing, I brush my hair back from my face, allowing the adrenaline to fill me up until I’m ready to burst. This has been a long time coming.

Gripping her once again by the hair, I pull harshly, feeling the give of roots as I drag her out of the back room and through the aisles until I make it all the way up to where I’ve set the stage for the show. I drop her limp body down while I give my arms a rest. It’s poetic, having her unconscious and about to die here in my field of poppies.

My feet are aching, sweat drips down my face and my clothes stick to my skin, but I don’t mind the exertion. I’ve attached a special hook to the end of one of the mobile halide lights, and I pull her underneath it, grunting as I lift her arms up and slip the hook beneath her zip tie. Then I walk over to where I control the height, and press a button, raising her up, up, up.

There’s a fifty-gallon black plastic barrel I roll into place beneath her feet, and I grin when she moans, her head lolling from side to side. Walking to the far wall, I roll the protective gear up my arms, and place the mask on my face, then pick up the Teflon bottles filled with hydrofluoric acid and head back to the barrel, humming to myself as I fill it up.

When it’s done, I move to the side, strip off the gear, and send a text to my dad, telling him it’s an emergency and I need his help. Then, I grab my Desert Eagle and sit down on the ground, crossing my legs and closing my eyes with my palms up and open.

Now we wait.

It takes thirty minutes for my father to arrive. I know because I counted every single one. I hear the beeping of the security system, so I open my lids, jumping up and heading toward the button that controls the height of the light Dorothy’s attached to. The greenhouse door opens, and I smile, soaking in the sight of my father as he takes in the scene.

“Hi, Dad. You’re late.”

“Bug…” His eyes flick to where Dorothy is unconscious, dried blood around her nostrils from where I broke her nose, mouth gagged as she dangles above the vat of acid. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just tying up some loose ends.” I scratch my temple with the barrel of my Eagle. “I think I’ve done a lot for you over the years, wouldn’t you agree?”

He swallows, and he takes a step closer, his hands reaching behind him.

I tsk, aiming my gun. “Please, for once in your life, don’t be stupid. I’d hate to have to kill you before you get to see the show.”

“Eveline,” he says. “Let’s talk about this.”

Dorothy groans behind us and his eyes fly back to her, his jaw muscles tensing.

“Oh, good, she’s waking up!” I grin. “Put your gun on the ground and go sit in the chair I set up just for you.”

“Evel—”

“Sit!” I yell, my finger jolting against the button. Dorothy’s body drops until only her feet are submerged in the acid. I pause, blowing out a breath to collect myself. “In the chair, Father. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

He does as I ask, his fiery gaze never leaving mine.

Dorothy’s eyes blink as she comes to. When she wakes up fully, she starts to flail, the acid solution splashing up her skin.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I singsong. “There’s only a couple more minutes until you start to feel it. You’re just making it worse for yourself.” I turn back to Dad. “As I was saying, I feel like I’ve bent over backward to accommodate you since you came out of prison. I’ve grown for you. Fixed all your problems. Killed anyone who got in our way. And what do I get as thanks?”

“Bug,” he tries again.

I press my finger into the button again, and Dorothy drops, letting out a muffled scream through the gag in her mouth.

Laughing, I scrunch my face. “Yeah, starting to burn? That’s hydrofluoric acid for you. Do you want to know what it’s doing as it melts through your skin? It has fluoride ions that migrate through the body, destroying tissue until it lodges in your bones.”

Dorothy flails more, snot and tears pouring from her eyes.

“Of course, if I’m feeling nice, maybe I’ll just drown you first.” I tilt my head. “Think Nessa will welcome you home?” I point the gun back at Dad. “Any last words for her, Daddy?”

His jaw muscles tense and his nostrils flare, but he turns his head to the side, not even looking her in the face.

I click my tongue. “No? Okay. Let me ask you this.” I drop Dorothy again until she’s waist deep, her face now the shade of a ripe tomato from how hard she screams. “Did you know she killed Nessa?”

He licks his lips and shakes his head. But I can tell by the look on his face that he did.

“You really never cared about us at all, did you? We’re all just means to an end. Well, congratulations, Dad. We’re at the end of the road now.”

A noise distracts me, and I twist toward it, seeing Zeke standing in the open doorway of the greenhouse, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open as he takes in the scene.

Great.

And then my body is thrown, my gun slamming into the button as it flies from my hand, dropping Dorothy in the acid entirely. There are hands around my neck, and my air is immediately cut off, my father lying on top of me, the veins on his throat protruding through his tattoos. I flail, my nails digging into the skin of his arm as I try to free myself.

But it’s no use. His body size alone puts me at enough of a disadvantage where I’m shit out of luck.

“You stupid fucking bitch. You think you have the power? You’ve never had any real power here.” His spit flies onto my cheek, and my lungs are seizing, my heartbeat loud in my ears as my body begs for a breath. My vision blurs and I toss my head back, trying like hell to get out of his strangling hold. I can barely make out Zeke, standing still, watching. Doing nothing, the way he always has.

Coward.

My body grows limp, my mind growing hazy and I give in, realizing this is it. My last moments spent are in a roomful of poppies at the hand of the man I was so desperate to have love me.

A sharp sound rings out, and a heavy weight drops on my chest, air flowing back into my lungs at an alarming rate as my dad’s hands relax their grip. Something wet drips down the side of my neck, and the smell of blood hits my nostrils, making me wretch. Suddenly, his body is lifted and tossed to the side. I gasp, my hands flying to my throat, which is so tender that I wince at the touch. I’m sucking in greedy gulps of air as I stare up at the blurry face of Zeke, a gun at his side.

He reaches out a hand, helping me to stand, and wraps his arm around my waist to keep me steady.

“Thank you,” I rasp, my voice barely over a whisper, my vocal cords raw from the trauma. I scan the room, noting the bullet hole in my dad’s chest, his eyes staring vacant and wide up at the ceiling, and then over to the barrel of acid, Dorothy’s body submerged.

They’re both dead.

It’s done.

Surprisingly, all I feel is numb.

“Come on,” Zeke says. “I’ll help you clean it up.”