Page 30 of Arranged Scars
Eating and drinking helps. Not a lot, but some. Finn picks at the bacon but mostly watches me curiously. I try my best to ignore him, but I keep thinking about throwing an empty bottle at his head. A part of me wishes I had been sober enough to brain him. It’s just my luck that I missed.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks finally like he’s bringing up the weather.
I slowly put down my fork. “I was hoping we wouldn’t.”
“You can’t avoid it forever.”
“I was really hoping last night was a bad dream.”
He leans forward. “Do you feel like it was just a dream?”
“No,” I mutter, stabbing more eggs and shoving them into my mouth. The food is mediocre, but it’s plentiful and greasy, which is exactly what I need right now. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He laughs like he’s honestly surprised. “Because we’re one and the same.”
“Bullshit.”
“You know that’s true. Look at yourself. Look at me. I know how you got those scars, and you know how I got mine.”
I study him, frowning. My head’s throbbing, but it’s not as bad. The Advil’s kicking in for sure. I drink coffee, trying to think of how to answer that. But instead, another memory flits to the surface, only a flash of it. Shane holding me by the hair, shovingmy face into snow, laughing as he does it.Mouthy bitch got me in trouble. I shake my head to get rid of it, but I swear I can still feel ice up my nose.
“Let’s say that’s true. Why the hell would I let you hurt my family? Why wouldn’t I just call the cops?”
“Because you’re going to help me.”
“No, I’m not.” I stare at him, bewildered. I wish I didn’t feel so terrible. “Stop being stupid. This is crazy.”
“It’s really not.” He tilts his head, lips pressed together in thought. “At first, I wanted to find out how I could use you. I wanted to see how I could hurt you. I figured, since we were getting married, I might as well start with the most convenient member of the Flanagan family.”
I blink rapidly. “That’s why you hired me?”
“I had some ideas. I considered drowning you slowly in a bathtub. Or tying you up in the kitchen and cutting you until you bled to death. Not very creative, I know.”
My heart races and I drop my fork. “Are you joking? It’s not funny.”
“But then I realized you must hate them as much as I do. Why punish someone who’s just like me? There’s no justice in that.”
I shake my head rapidly. “Justice? This isn’t justice. This is a nightmare.”
“They deserve it, Caroline. You know they do.” He leans in closer. “How did you get those scars?”
I open my mouth. I want to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but my mother’s face comes to mind, the way her lipstwitched when I tried to get her to talk about this exact thing yesterday. How she’s never been able to admit it.
But I’m just as bad.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I look down at my plate. Soggy toast floats in runny eggs. My stomach lurches and I push it away. I drink the coffee to try to wash the sour taste from my mouth. It doesn’t help.
“We’ll do it together. One at a time. They’ll suffer the way you suffered, and in the end, I’ll give you freedom, true freedom. Your family won’t be around to hurt you anymore. You can have a life, Caroline.”
I swallow hard. My chest aches, my head throbs, and my stomach twists. I shouldn’t have had that second waffle. I cradle the coffee in both hands, not looking at him, but intensely aware that he’s looking at me.
“How would it work?” I ask very softly, in a very small voice, like if I’m quiet and tiny then it’s not real, then I’m not entertaining the idea of murdering my own brothers.
“I have plans. I’ll need your expertise, but I’ll take care of the dirty work. Unless you’re interested?”
I almost gag and quickly shake my head. “No.”
“Suit yourself. We take care of them one after the other. By the time anyone understands what’s happening, it’ll be too late. We’ll do your father last, just to make sure he knows he lost all of his precious boys before meeting his own end. Then you’re free to go.”
