What they’d now done to Dolly. My Dolly. Her eyes . . . her eyes when that fat fuck brought her back to the room. Limping, blood running down her thighs. Tearful, pale . . . fucking destroyed.
My delicate living doll ruined.
In my mind, I replayed plunging the letter opener into Uncle Eric’s neck, his chest, his stomach. The blood that splattered onto my skin—hot and wet and strong in its metallic scent. The taste as it had hit my mouth, the flavor bursting on my tongue—the taste of his demise. The taste of my victorious kill. And I’d felt it, the power surging through me, as I’d felt his pulse slowing under my fingers. Saw his eyes draining of life.
I’d done that.
I’d ripped the life from him. With my own hands.
For Dolly. For my Dolly.
We drove for so long that I fell asleep. When I woke, it was dark outside again. A man dressed in black yanked me from the van and toward a tall water tower. It was white, but had no name painted on it. I looked around me: there was nothing but fields and fields. The man dragged me to the bottom of the tower, where a door opened. Pushed forward, I stumbled into the tower to see a set of stairs winding down below ground.
The man gripped the nape of my neck, forcing me to move. Down and down I walked, through the dark, until I came to an iron door. Bolts unlocked, metal ground, then the door opened and I was pushed inside. My eyes widened. Rows and rows of cells lay before me. Then a man stepped out from the shadows. An old man. The minute my eyes landed on him, my lip curled in warning. He smiled at me.
I envisioned his death in my mind. A bullet through his mouth would blast his brains out the back of his thick skull. Messy. Bloody. Brutal.
“You fucked with the wrong set of men, kid,” he said. He shook his head. “Had some fucked-up people in here for years now, some have been here from their teens, but you’ve gotta be one of the youngest on record.” The man behind me laughed and rubbed his hand down my back. I lurched forward and turned, staring at the fucker. I hated to be touched.
“Lotta my men gonna like that you’re so young.” I turned back to the older man and glared. “Oh, would you look at that? The little sadistic murderer’s pissed.” He put his hand over his heart. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the warden of this here establishment. The land of the forgotten. A place even the government don’t know about. No police. No Child Protection Services. Just you and me, and my men, and a hundred other twisted sick fucks that messed with the wrong people.” He stepped forward. So close that I smelled the cigar smoke on his breath. Just like Mr. Earnshaw smelled. Just like the uncles. “No one’s coming to save you. This is your new home. A secret Alcatraz funded by the filthy rich, the one percent who pay me very well to remove . . . problems . . . from their lives.” He shrugged. “Rich men, you see. They like to commit crimes, but don’t like to deal with the aftermath. That’s where we come in. A cleanup service, if you will.”
The warden looked at the man behind me. “The only cell left with any room is fifty-two.”
“That wise?” the guard said. “Not sure we want anyone else in with them. They’re bad enough without adding a third. Don’t wanna make them any more dangerous.”
The warden paused. “I see what you’re saying. It’ll be hard for the guards to get to him for pleasure, with those cellmates.” He flicked his hand. “But there’s no choice. He was a last-minute addition. It’ll have to do. Anyway, he’s just a kid. What harm can he do?”
The guard huffed in annoyance and shoved me forward. He led me up several sets of stairs. On every new level, I saw cells holding three or four men. Some licked at the bars. Some pointed at me, threatening to kill me. I felt no fear. I’d kill any of them who came close to me.
Sick fuck after sick fuck after sick fuck.
We came to a stop at a cell, and the guard took a gun from his holster. He held it out into the darkness of the cell. He quickly opened the door. When I didn’t move, he shoved me inside, clanging the gate shut behind me, and immediately backed away. I spun around, hands fisted, watching as he walked back down the steps.
A cold shiver ran down my back when I felt someone watching me from behind. “And who do we have here?” said a deep voice from the corner of the room.