Key to Hell (Hell Night Series Book 4), page 12
Something sharp pierces the center of my chest, and I suck in a breath at the force. I’ve always associated my name with pain and terror because that’s what I felt when Aziah’s father used it. The first time I heard Deacon say it with that horrible look in his eyes, was the first time I hated my name. Knowing I shunned the name Macy lovingly gave has my heart feeling unbearably heavy.
“It’s okay, Rella,” Mae says quietly. “She would have understood why you and Trouble wanted to change your names.”
I nod, but it still doesn’t make the guilt go away.
“What about our father?”
“Except for The Hill, Dale and I didn’t leave the house much. Neither of us could stand the thought of being around people who could so easily hurt children in such horrific ways. And we certainly didn’t want Macy around them. We tried shielding her as much as possible. The first time she met Aiden was one of the rare times we took her to the park. He was there with his parents. He accidentally tripped her on the playground.” Mae laughs. “I could tell he was sorry, but Macy held a grudge and snubbed his apologies.”
I smile. I may not have ever known my mother, but I could just imagine a little girl with a scraped knee or elbow, but having her feelings hurt more, then hating the boy who hurt them.
“It was a month later before we took her back to the park. He was there again. When Macy continued to give him the cold shoulder, poor little Aiden started to cry. He was so upset she wouldn’t talk to him. His tears were what finally got through to her. She walked up to him and patted his shoulder, telling him she forgave him. From that day on, she begged Dale and I to take her back to the park every day so she could see him. She claimed him as her best friend.”
I laugh, loving this insight to the beginning of Trouble and my parent’s relationship.
“Whatever happened to Aiden’s parents?”
She frowns, the merriment sliding from her face. “They were arrested the night of the raid. Last I heard, they’re both still in prison. I hope they rot there,” she finishes on a mutter.
Not needing to hear any more about my paternal grandparents, I look back down at the album in my lap. I turn to the next page, and my breath catches. Seated on a loveseat side by side, is Macy and Aiden. Mom’s holding an infant while Dad holds a toddler. Both are looking down at Trouble and me in their arms with soft smiles filled with love. My tiny hand is gripping one of Trouble’s little fingers.
“That was a week after Macy had you.”
I look up at Mae just in time to see her wipe a tear from her cheek. My heart squeezes at the torment in her eyes.
“You two were always so close. Trouble took great pride in being your big brother, and took his duty to protect you very seriously. Especially after Macy and Aiden were gone. His memories of your parents faded over time, but he never lost the need to protect his little sister. I would have kept their memory alive for you both, but Donald and Sandra rarely let Dale and I see you.”
I blink rapidly to force back my tears. I set the book down on the coffee table and turn to face Mae. Tentatively, I reach out and lay my hand on top of hers. Her startled gaze flies to me.
“I’m devastated I’ll never get the chance to meet the people who gave life to Trouble and me, but it makes it easier knowing they were good people who loved us.”
“They adored you both so much,” Mae states.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and let go of her hand. Before I lose my nerve, I launch myself forward and wrap my arms around my grandmother’s shoulders. She’s so shocked by my sudden movement that it takes her a moment to fold me into her arms. Once she does, I let out a long stuttering breath, regretting that it’s taken me this long to feel Mae close to me again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMO
I SIT ON THE COUCH AND watch Rella play with Elijah on the floor. Every time she smiles, it makes my own lips want to tug upward. Every time she laughs at something Elijah does, a tiny light flickers on inside me.
Rella seems the happiest when she’s with the toddler, but I still sense a bit of sadness in her. It’s when she’s not actively playing with him and is just watching. Sometimes when I come from the shower, I find her at the window, just staring outside. I see the same sadness during those times as well.
Elijah squeals loudly as Rella tickles his sides. He’s on his back and his legs kick out, whacking her arms.
“You’re such a cutie patootie,” she says, laughing down at him. A moment later, she leans back and wrinkles her nose. “Whoa there, buddy. Someone’s also rotten.”
Giggling, Remi gets up from her perch on the chair and scoops Elijah up. “Come on, little man. Let’s go take care of you before your aunt Rella passes out from the fumes.” She blows a kiss against his cheek as she leaves the room.
“Phew,” Rella says, getting up from the floor and sitting down on the couch. “That boy’s poop is strong.”
“Tell me about it,” Trouble remarks. “At least you haven’t had it sprayed in your face.” Rella chokes out a laugh. “I had his diaper off one day, changing him, when he decided to pass gas. That shit, and I mean that literally, sprayed everywhere. I just thank God my mouth was closed.”
Rella tosses her head back and lets out a loud laugh. The sound is magical and mesmerizing all at once.
“That’s really fuckin’ gross,” JW comments from across the room.
“That’s an understatement. Being a doctor, I’ve seen and done a lot of shit, but having feces on my face has never been one of them. I can handle a lot, but that had even me gagging.”
Rella giggles and tucks her feet under her on the couch. “But it’s got to be worth it.”
Trouble smiles. “It’s definitely worth it. I’d get shit on every day forever, and it would still be worth it.”
“You’re never going to believe the news I just received,” Judge says, walking into the room after leaving a few minutes prior to answer his phone.
“What?” I ask. I sit up straighter, unease making my body stiff.
“Apparently, Sierra was a mouthy bitch, not just a psychotic one. During one of her spa trips in San Antonio, she ran her mouth to the woman who was giving her a massage, saying she knew who killed those people the night of the raid. The masseuse thought she was lying because she didn’t remember seeing anything about people being murdered that night, so she didn’t say anything. Then a couple of days ago, she came across an old article when she was cleaning out her parents’ attic and realized she was wrong.”
“Damn,” JW mutters, straightening from the wall he was reclining against. “Did she give a name?”
“No, but she gave enough details the authorities never released. Stuff only someone who was there would know. Or stuff someone who was there told her.”
“Gary.”
“Who’s Gary?” Rella asks in a low voice.
Gary Watters was a bastard who sexually and physically abused his children, Brittney and Jacob, for years. A little over a year ago, his crimes came to light and he received the Expiration Penalty, a penalty designed specifically for people like him. Rage still fills me every time I think about what he put those kids through.
“A Malus citizen who was abusing his two children,” Trouble answers.
She sinks lower into the couch. “And what happened to him?”
Trouble sits forward, elbows on his knees, and clasps his hands together. He frowns, contemplating how to answer. I do it for him.
“He’s dead.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “How?”
“Emo,” Trouble warns, but I ignore him.
Rella’s part of this town. She has the right to know. And I have no doubt she can handle the answers.
“Shot. Four times. Heart, between the eyes, base of spine, and groin.”
“Goddamn it,” Judge mutters, turning away and raking his hand through his hair.
I keep my eyes on Rella, waiting for her to do or say something. It takes a several moments before she does.
“How did he hurt them? His children.”
“Raped them both. Repeatedly, for years. She was ten and her brother was four when he was caught.”
Sadness lurks in her green eyes, but that’s not the only emotion. Rage sits right beside it. Her lips form a flat line and her jaw twitches.
She gives a single nod, silently accepting my explanation, just as I knew she would. Rella’s been through enough to have her own anger toward people like Gary.
The stiff mood in the room lightens fractionally with her acceptance. Trouble still looks worried as he watches Rella, but his shoulders relax some.
“And this Sierra,” she says. “You said she was psychotic.”
Judge’s entire body stiffens. “Yes,” he grunts. “She held Ellie and Maisy hostage. She shot at Maisy, but Emo jumped in the way and took the bullet for her.”
Rella sucks in a sharp breath, her gaze flying to me. Her eyes slide all over me, as if she’s looking for any wounds. After a moment, she says with acrimony in her voice, “She’s dead too, right?”
I give a clipped nod.
Sierra was a crazed nineteen-year-old who was also abused by Gary since she was a little girl. We had no clue that had happened until the day she completely lost it and held Ellie and Maisy hostage. She’d formed a sick attachment to him and was angry when he was put down. In retaliation, she attempted to take it out on Judge by taking away his child and Ellie. She also killed Earl, an elderly man who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and put rattlers in Trouble’s truck because it was his report that proved Gary was abusing his children.
“Good,” Rella says heatedly.
Everyone but me seems stunned by her passionate response. Rella’s seen too much, been through too much to have any compassion for anyone who harms a child. She’s like me in a lot of ways. She’s like all of us.
“So, now the question is, did Sierra tell anyone else and did she give them a name?” Judge states, bringing the conversation back on point.
“Has anyone asked her parents?” Trouble asks.
“No, and there’s really no point. Eddie and Charlotte would have already told us.”
“I don’t understand,” Rella says, tilting her head inquisitively. “Why are you all concerned over this?”
“We’re not concerned. Just curious and trying to piece together everything that happened that night. It’s one of the only answers left that we don’t have,” Judge answers.
JW’s and Trouble’s eyes move to me. If it wasn’t for me, there’s a possibility they could finally solve that puzzle. Right before I pulled the trigger and shot Sierra through the base of her spine, she spouted that she knew the identity of the shooter. She claimed Gary talked about it once. Before she died, Gary’s wife, Eloise, who was an original member of Sweet Haven and was there that night, told Gary she saw who killed those people. No one knows if what Sierra said was true, but there would be no reason she would come up with that kind of lie. Either way, it was her last-ditch effort to save herself. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting that bitch catch even a slight reprieve after what she did.
Those shootings have been a mystery to everyone. The police never discovered who it was and accounted it to one of the adults who got away.
It’s time everyone knew the truth.
“I did it.”
In stunned silence, all eyes turn to me. If I was a man who felt humor, I’d laugh at the expressions on everyone’s faces. But I’m not, so I just look at each of them.
“How in the hell is that possible?” Trouble demands. “You were only twelve, and small at that. How did you manage to overpower the men?”
“When you want something bad enough, you find the strength. Not to mention, most didn’t see me coming before it was too late.”
Judge crosses the room and stops in front of me, “How in the fuck did you find time? They hit Sweet Haven fast and out of the blue.”
I cross an ankle over my knee, shielding my hand pressing the key in my pocket into my thigh. Every time I think of that night, regret hits me. Not because of what I did, but because I didn’t take out more of them.
“My father and I were at the lodge. I was able to get away from him faster than I thought. I had a bag stashed outside with the few things I needed. On my way home to grab something, I made a few pit stops. The Moores were the first.”
“You planned this?” JW asks with a hint of shock.
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Emo. Why didn’t you tell us?”
I glance at Trouble. “Because I didn’t want any of you involved. I didn’t want your hands dirty in case I was caught.”
“Fuck,” Judge mumbles and stalks over to the window, turning his back to the room.
“Why are you just now telling us?”
“It’s time,” I say simply.
No one says anything else after that, and I look over at Rella sitting one cushion away from me. Her expression is pensive, and it makes me wonder what she’s thinking. It’s only a moment later she lets me know.
“How did it feel?” she asks calmly, her hands laced together in her lap.
She doesn’t need to clarify. I know exactly what she’s asking. It’s not often I’m surprised, but I am mildly by her question.
“It felt fuckin’ great,” I tell her truthfully.
She licks her lips and nods, an inkling of pleasure on her face.
“I wish I had been there.”
“Rella—”
“No, Trouble,” she interrupts, turning to face him. “I don’t care if it makes me a bad person. They were bad people too and deserved nothing less than the pain Aziah inflicted on them. They were all just wasted space that shouldn’t have been given life. Aziah was only correcting that mistake.”
He frowns, knowing she speaks the truth. I know it’s hard on him, hearing his sister speak so lightly of taking life, even though he, JW, Judge, and I have taken away lives ourselves. To him, she’s still his innocent little sister who would never hurt a fly. To me, she recognizes the truth. People like the ones who took part in the Hell Night activities have no place on earth. They were born to live out the rest of their existence in hell.
It doesn’t make Rella a bad person. She’s still good, and despite the abuse she endured, the mental damage it’s done to her, she’s still pure.
And if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure she always is.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RELLA
I SIT ON THE FRONT PORCH, my eyes continuously darting to the road. Every time I hear a car approaching, my heartbeat accelerates. It’s only been forty-five minutes since he left, but for some reason it feels like four hours. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t gone this long without Aziah being around in some way or another. His presence is always there, even if it was on the other side of a door or across the room. Not having him here makes me feel unsettled and off-balance.
When he left, I could tell he didn’t like it either. Whatever he had to take care of must have been important, because I know he wouldn’t have left otherwise.
I snap the hair tie I have around my wrist over and over again, then look down at the red mark it leaves behind. Sometimes when I’m not able to use a blade against my thighs, I use my hair tie. It doesn’t give the comfort a blade does, but if I do it tight enough it’ll occupy my mind so my skin doesn’t crawl.
I look up when a dog barks. Out on the street is a woman walking her pet. Her eyes are on me curiously. One thing that has always frayed my nerves is having people stare at me. The couple times I’ve been away from Trouble’s house, I’ve tried to ignore them, but I still felt their eyes on me. What surprises me is that I wasn’t consumed with the thought of hiding myself. I still felt the fear and anxiety, but it seemed muted somehow.
The lady smiles and waves at me. Not wanting to encourage anything further than a wave, but also not wanting to appear rude by ignoring her, I give her small wave back. I let out a sigh when she continues on her way.
Hearing an engine, I perk up when I see Aziah’s car coming down the road. I stand from the porch swing as he parks behind Trouble’s truck. Ridiculous excitement makes me jittery as he gets out and walks to the porch. The closer he gets, the more relaxed his face becomes, as if he’s just as relieved as I am that he’s back. It’s stupid to be so dependent on him, but I can’t find it in me to care. My excuse is I have a lot of missed years to make up.
“Hi,” I say lamely with an awkward wave.
If I’m not mistaken, his lips twitch. I still haven’t seen Aziah smile since I’ve been here, and I’m looking forward to seeing it one day.
My gaze drifts down to his hand, and I suck in a sharp breath before it flies back to his. “Is that…?” I stop because my throat is suddenly tight.
“Boo?” He climbs the rest of the stairs and stops a foot away from me. “Yes.”
He holds the brown stuffed rabbit out to me. He’s dingy, and his hair is matted down in spots, but I’ve never been more excited to see something in my life.
Tears appear in my eyes as I reach out a shaky hand for my favorite stuffed animal. I slept with this rabbit every night and carried him with me everywhere for years, ever since Aziah got him for me for my eighth birthday. The day the boys changed the gazebo into a fairy tale. I cherished this thing like it was a real rabbit.
I pull it to my chest and bend my head, stuffing my face against his ears and breathing in deep. It smells like Aziah, which makes the experience of having him again all the better.
“How did you get this?”
I missed Boo almost as much as I missed Trouble and the others. I was devastated when I realized a couple of days after I woke up at Gabriela and Marco’s that I didn’t have him anymore.
“I snuck in that night we found you in the gazebo and took him.”
“And you’ve had him this whole time?” I asked, both shocked and pleased.
He leans against the porch railing and crosses his arms. “Yes.”
I look down at Boo, turning him this way and that way, still having a hard time believing Aziah’s had him for the last twenty-four years.
