3
Judge
The door gives easily. It’s why I heard her scream from outside. It wasn’t fully closed, or I wouldn’t have heard her at all. That’s the point of the punishment room. No one to hear you. No one to rescue you.
But he took the lock out. The handle lies on the ground. It’s no longer possible to close it.
The sight that greets me is both something out of the past and a thing that should never, ever have come to pass. Mercedes is here. Mercedes is in the room where my grandfather yielded to the monster inside himself. Where beast overtook man.
She’s bound to the whipping bench. Her body stretched too far. Long limbs not long enough.
Her mouth opens on a scream as Theron’s blow lands, but that scream is caught. Halted. She must hear me and know that I'm here. That I’ve come for her. And for one fleeting but undeniable moment, I see hope in her eyes. Relief.
Then her head drops. Her body jolts as my brother lays down one more stroke across the backs of her thighs and I swear I smell the copper of blood. But maybe that’s an old smell that clings to the walls here. Like his cigars.
I charge him then. With an almighty roar and a rage unleashed, I charge him.
But he’s slow to process because he turns his head to me but remains still. He doesn’t run. Doesn’t raise his arms to protect himself. He just watches with the strangest grin on his face. A look of what? Satisfaction? Satisfaction at what he’s done? Breaking a woman half his size? Or is it satisfaction to see he’s unleashed the beast inside me?
Because at this moment, I am my grandfather.
I take him down, knocking the cane from his hand. He doesn’t fight. Not at first. He laughs this strange, madman’s laugh.
Theron’s head bounces off the floor as we crash down, his body breaking my fall.
“What the hell are you doing?” I trap him beneath my thighs and pound my fist into his jaw so violently that I wonder if I didn’t break it. But there’s that sound again. That laughter.
Unhinged.
Insane.
Inhuman.
He turns his eyes to me and in the dim light I see how dilated his pupils are. See the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the unnatural flush of his cheeks. He looks almost ill.
That could be exertion though. From whipping Mercedes to the point of breaking skin.
So I draw my arm back and smash my fist into his temple this time and I don’t give him a chance to recover before getting up, hauling him to his feet and throwing him against the stone wall.
Air whooshes from his lungs and when he catches his breath, I hear that laughter again, a high-pitched sound. “There he is!”
My fist meets his gut, and he doubles over with a grunt. “Let’s see you fight me, you fucking bastard. Or don’t you dare to fight someone who is your equal in size and strength?”
He raises his head, that grin gone, his blue eyes almost black. “Oh, no, brother. I dare.” He charges me, screaming, and I see too late the wooden paddle he must have grabbed off the wall at his back as he brings it down across the side of my head with a force that makes my brain rattle.
I stumble backward and he comes at me again. My vision is double, but I bend to tackle him knocking him to the ground.
“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him, smashing his wrist, throwing the paddle from his grip.
“I have no doubt,” he manages as I rain blows down on his face again and again and again. Blood splatters across my cheeks, my eyes. It blurs my vision and I taste the coppery tang of it on my lip. Theron’s face is slowly becoming unrecognizable but then I hear a moan. Mercedes.
I stop, turn to her. Her limp body is still flopped over the bench. But she’s waking. And she can’t see me like this.
“Mercedes!” I stagger to my feet. My knuckles are raw, my knees hurt, and the room spins so I have to grab the corner of a nearby table to steady myself. I look down at my brother who lies unmoving in a bloody heap. He may be dead for all I know but he groans when I trip over him, not yet steady from the hit to my head.
He’s not dead. Not yet. Good. I’ll do the job properly later. First, I need to tend to Mercedes. I need to get to her.
But just as I reach her, she’s gone. Like every other time.
“Judge. Judge, wake up.”
I grab the hand that’s shaking me and leap from my seat.
Lois gasps, her eyes huge. I blink, and look at her face. Then down at how I’m holding her.
“You were having a nightmare,” she says as I release her. I step away in shame.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Fuck. I gave in to the monster inside me when I beat Theron. Will it no longer sleep? Is it hungry for more now that it’s had a taste?
“It’s alright. You didn’t hurt me.”
She tries to give me a reassuring smile, fails, and turns her worried gaze to Mercedes.
“Has it begun?” she asks. She doesn’t have to say what. The nightmares. They're a nightly occurrence. She’s asking if they’ve begun today.
“Not yet.”
She glances at the nearly untouched tray on the table. She brought my dinner in a few hours ago. Although I’m not hungry I forced down a little food.
“You need to eat a full meal and get some rest. You can’t keep going like this. I can spend the night with her.”
“I’m fine.”
She watches me and I know what she’s thinking. Is it safe for me to be around Mercedes? What if I grab her like I did Lois? I’ve been reliving that night just like Mercedes is every time I close my eyes and given the exhaustion, I am not myself.