Page 115 of Ricochet
“Blood doesn’t make you family. It means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. After all the shit you pulled, you should know better.”
“But—”
“No, shut up for once, and let me talk.” I patted his hair, moving the wayward strands from his forehead. In another life, he would’ve been a loving brother who helped me through all of this, and I would be a sister he wanted to have. Maybe each of us would be that person the other one could trust with their life. I would ask for him when things went wrong because my brother would’ve been my protector.
But unfortunately, we were the wrong brother and sister in this life. Maybe it was the blood running through our veins that couldn’t allow us to be normal. But then again, what was normal anyway?
“You are going to die, darling.” I started humming the melody our mother used to sing to us when we were kids. “You are going to die, and I will be the one to kill you.”
He started struggling, but I pinned one of his hands above his head and slammed the dagger through his palm, to the wooden floor. The crack of his bones, followed by his scream echoed around us, but I couldn’t allow him to escape.
He used to carry a knife inside his jacket, and this time was no exception. I pulled the small swiss knife out, and started playing with the set, while he panted beneath me.
“Let’s see,” I pulled the smaller looking blade first, “what should I do first? Should I carve your skin off, bit by bit, until you tell me who killed Ava? Or should I pull your eye out with this little piece until you tell me what happened to Maya and where she is?”
“No, please—”
“Shhh.” I grabbed his chin in my hand, halting his movements. “It won’t hurt too much. Just a little bit, you know? Unless you tell me everything I want to know.”
“Go to fucking hell!” He spat in my face. “You’ll never get anything out of me.”
I wiped my face before pressing harder on his.
“Very well then.” I pressed the small blade on his cheek and started carving out a small piece of skin. He was thrashing, grabbing my hair with his other hand, but I was relentless.
There, he looked perfect now. As ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.
“Where is Maya?” I left the meat of his cheek hanging and pressed my forefinger into the bloodied mass beneath. The screaming, the struggling, it was all futile. “Tell me, and I might even let you go.”
“Never!” he shouted.
“Your choice.” I started pulling the chunk off of his cheek, moving it toward his ear, and with it, additional skin.
That’s right, brother. Just scream for me.
“No, no.” He took a hold of my hand, “No more. Please.”
“Will you tell me what I want to know?”
“I can’t.” More like he didn’t want to. “They will kill me.”
“And I won’t?”Was he stupid?“As I said, your choice.”
I pressed the blade to his other side, shaking his hand off of me.
“Mexico,” he suddenly shouted. “That’s all I know. She’s somewhere in Mexico. That’s the last thing I heard.”
“Mexico?” What the fuck was she doing in Mexico?
“Yes, yes,” he cried. “Please, just let me go.”
“Hmm, Mexico.” I pondered over it for a moment. I didn’t have anybody in Mexico right now, but I could ask Cole. He always had my back, and I could give him a visit, see if he knew anything.
“Ophelia?”
“Shhh,” I pressed the blade to his mouth. “I’m thinking.”
But what if she wasn’t there anymore? Or worse, what if this little shit was lying to me?
