Page 168 of Unholy Masks

He finally saw Ryden for what he was. Not the frightened little boy he’d almost killed once. Ryden was the thing that had survived Reginald’s cruelty.

He saw the monster in his son’s eyes, the monsters that were once his to command.

“But then, I know why you killed her.” Ryden’s hand shook when he took a knife from Reginald’s table.

It was dull. It had lost its teeth. Ryden didn’t mind. The knife scraped through flesh with great resistance. Reginald’s scream was a pleasant symphony.

“You couldn’t stomach her happiness, the way she smiled. You never let her smile. You hated her smile. You hated our happiness.”

“I brought your tools,” I said in a whisper, not wanting to break the moment.

“This will do for now.” He stared at the dull blade. “Sharp things are quick.”

I watched as Ryden carved a long line along Reginald’s hand.

“You used this hand to kill her.” The knife made a chewy sound as it met bone. Ryden didn’t stop. He sawed his father’s flesh until it peeled down his bones in a mess.

Something vicious took over his body, his eyes. It changed him. It made him glow, grow.

Ryden smiled. It was transcendent.

“Pl-please.” Reginald’s whimpers went unheard.

“Did you stop when she begged you? You hate stopping, don’t you, once you have started? If I shared anything with you, it is that quality, father.” He punctuated the word by plunging the rusty knife between his ribs. He choked. He screamed. Blood pooled between his lips, spilling over like a crimson cascade.

Ryden pulled it back. Just enough. Then screwed it back in.

Blood splashed around the trailer.

“This was coming for years.”

Ryden smiled.

“Goodbye.” The knife went to his throat, and Reginald’s screams bubbled between his throat and tongue.

Blood sprayed across Ryden’s face, creating an abstract of crimson.

I didn’t look away.

I watched, my stomach filling with hunger, my throat burning with need.

He pulled the knife back.

Reginald was dead, but Ryden didn’t stop.

“He’s gone,” I breathed.

Ryden turned to me with blood stains on his face, and his eyes gleaming.

I watched with great comfort as Ryden’s monsters took a collective sigh of relief. There was no hurry in the way he finished his work.

When he was done, he was smiling. Smiling like the world was wearing two rainbows in its hair.

I smiled back.

“Will you not marry me? Ever?” he asked. His eyes were fragile. So vulnerable. “I want the world to know you’re mine. Just mine. I want to be your man, your husband. I want to wake up every day next to you, looking at your face.” He looked at me like he wanted to cut my skin open and bury himself between the confines of my body. “You save me, Red, and you destroy me.”

I smiled.