A swish of black hair flashes on the screen behind Maisy. My eyes hone in on it, but she’s gone in an instant. I haven’t seen Ellie since the day I left. She never gets on Skype with Maisy. I’ve spoken with her over the phone, but my eyes are greedy to see her. I miss her just as much as I miss our daughter. The few times we’ve talked, she’s been quiet and reserved, only letting the conversation revolve around Maisy. It pisses me off, but I’ll give her the time she needs. Until they get here, that is. She can fight it all she wants, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her fears get in the way of what I want.
I focus my attention back on Maisy. She rattles on about going to the park tomorrow to have a picnic with some of her friends. I love watching the excitement on her face. I know she’ll miss her friends when she leaves, but I’m confident she’ll make more here. Thea and Brittney are her age. They already know about her and are anxious for her to get here as well.
All too soon, I hear Ellie in the background telling her it’s time for bed.
“I gotta go,” she says mournfully, her cute little lip jutting out into a pout.
Damn, but I miss her.
“I love you, Daddy.”
My eyes slide closed at her words. The first time she told me that was the night I got back to Malus. I barely made it home in time for our first Skype session. She looked so depressed, but also happy to see me. The feelings were mutual. Each time we do this, it’s bittersweet. I get to see my little girl, but I can’t touch her. I can’t wrap my arms around her or kiss the soft hairs on the top of her head. I can’t read her nighttime stories or play Minecraft with her. I can’t smell her innocent scent or see the happiness on her face when she does something she hasn’t been able to do since her illness.
One thing is for sure, once they get here, I’m never letting them go. I’m never going to miss another moment in Maisy’s life.
“I love you too, Mase,” I respond hoarsely. I’ve only ever given three people those words. Ellie, Mae, and now Maisy. “You sleep well tonight and have fun tomorrow with your friends, but don’t overdo yourself.”
Her lips tuck upward into a smile. “I will, I will, and I won’t.”
Just like every night, she lifts her hand to the screen and lays it flat on the surface. I do the same, making sure my palm is directly over hers. It’s ridiculous to even think, but it’s almost as if I feel the warmth of her palm against mine.
I’m a fucking sap, I know it, and I give not one fuck. This is my daughter, and I’ll be the sappiest motherfucker out there for her.
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
We both pull our hands away at the same time. “Okay. Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, baby.”
She disconnects, and the screen goes black. I’m left feeling bleak.
Before Ellie came back into my life, most of my nights were spent with one of the women. I kept this place for when I wanted to be alone, but that didn’t happen often. Being alone has never bothered me; I just preferred having the company of a female. Since returning to Malus, this is where I’ve been, and for the first time in my life, I feel lonely. I could easily show up at Layla’s, Jamie’s, or Gillian’s, but it’s not their company I want. It’s the woman who caught my attention twelve years ago and never let it go.
My phone pings, alerting me of a notification. Tapping my screen to life, I find the email app. My mood suddenly lightens. If there’s one thing that could push aside the misery in my gut, it’s the video link I was just sent. I’ve been waiting a week for this, and on the cusp of what happened t
onight, it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
I press the link and wait for the video to download. Anticipation and euphoria knot together in my stomach. The same home office as the video of a few weeks ago pops up, the camera aimed at the desk. It’s empty, but only seconds later, the old fuck that it belongs to walks up and sits in the chair. He taps at his computer for several seconds before his hands freeze on the keyboard.
It irritates me because I’m on my phone and the screen is small, but the camera is close enough that I see the color drain from his face and his hand shake as he clicks the mouse. These pictures aren’t near as gruesome as the others I’ve sent, but he still gets the message I’m sending. The funny thing is, he doesn’t even know who is sending them or that someone is watching his reaction. He will soon enough, but I want to play with dear ole Dad a bit more first. I like watching the fear on his face, the sanity slowly leave him, and the utter helplessness he feels at not knowing what’s going to happen next.
I only took a few pictures of Jon swaying from his rope death sentence. The close-up of his contorted face was the best one. It wasn’t bloody or grisly, but I know when dad comes across it, because his hand jerks on the mouse. Jon may be fully intact in the image, but with his eyes bulging out of his sockets, his face swollen and dark purple, and his mouth open with blood dripping out from biting his tongue, it’s still a disturbing sight.
Once he’s done, he slams the laptop lid closed hard enough to break the screen. His elbows thump on the desk and he grips his hair, pulling on the strands. I smile at the screen as he lets out a bellow. His head jerks up and he swipes an arm across his desk, sending all kinds of shit flying every which way. His chair bangs on the wall behind him as he angrily jerks up to stand. A moment later, he stalks out of view of the camera. A moment after that, the video shuts off.
I’ve been sending him these pictures for the last three years, since my search for him came to an end. The bastard’s seven hours away, just across the border in New Mexico. He’s been there for five years. Before that, he was in Dallas.
Soon though, once I get done playing with him, he’ll be coming back to home sweet home, where his final residence will be an unmarked grave underneath an old oak tree.
Chapter Fourteen
JUDGE
The Past
MY FINGERS DIG SO HARD into the arm of the chair I’m sitting in, I wonder if my nails will break off first or they’ll slice into the fabric. The weight on my legs is crushing, my thighs painfully digging into the edge of the seat. I close my eyes and turn my head away, but the image of bouncing breasts is already there. It’s like it’s burned into the back of my eyelids.
Vomit tightens my throat when hands run through my hair and grip the strands on top of my head. Warm breath heats the skin on my neck when lips and a tongue move across it. The scent from her hair and perfume nearly makes me gag. I squeeze harder on the chair.