Brutal Discoveries (11 page)

DAMON

Sandy was a good mom.  The best.  Better than Damon ever had.  Loving.  God, she was so loving, she doted on their little princess night and day.  Sandy didn’t care who saw the love she had for her child.  She showed it freely, and she showed it often.  As their little girl grew bigger and bigger, Damon found himself constantly fighting the urge to go on a hunt.  He had managed to convince himself that their daughter deserved better; that he should try his very hardest to be the best father he could be.  He succeeded… for a time. 

The little girl was eight months old.  Sitting on the old but clean carpet floor of their unit, she played with a soft princess doll rattle.  She had a wisp of light blonde hair that Sandy couldn’t wait to put clips and bows in, but it was too short right then.  The baby was making all of her usual baby sounds as she drooled all over her toy and grinned to herself.  Damon watched her as he took a pull of his beer, then he turned his attention back to the television.  Sandy was outside, hanging washing on the line, so she hadn’t been within earshot to hear it.  But Damon did.  The baby girl was babbling to herself when she said, “Dadadadad.  Dadadada.”  Then she giggled.  Damon’s heart seized in his chest, the pain so crippling, he used his free hand to rub the ache away as he concentrated on drawing in a gasp of air. 

“What’d you say?” he wheezed gruffly.

“Badadadagoo coogoo.”  She kept on babbling while stuffing that doll in her mouth and drooling all over it, oblivious to the stifling mix of tension and awe radiating from her father.

When Damon told Sandy their kid had spoken, she was so excited.  She clapped her hands and fussed over the baby as if she’d built a fucking house.  As ridiculous as her excitement was, Damon still smiled.

***

The lights had gone off forty-five minutes before, bathing the house in darkness, except from the orange light coming from the street lamps.  Damon’s hands clenched in eagerness as he willed himself to not get carried away.  It had been almost a year between hunts.  He’d held off, but the urge was becoming too much.  He
had
to punish them.  Experiencing the joy his daughter brought him on a daily basis did nothing to ease the anger he felt for his own parents.  In fact, it made it worse.  He knew deep in his gut he wouldn’t hurt his kid, he also knew Sandy wouldn’t either.  He watched her love on that girl as if she hung the fucking moon, yet Damon’s own parents couldn’t so much as cast him a loving glance, or make sure he had warm fucking clothes in the winter time.  As time went on, the rage he felt for them grew until he couldn’t control it any longer.

Entry was easy enough; the back door had glass panels and with a quick snap of his clenched fist, Damon reached through and unlocked the door, letting himself in.  His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, then he was prowling through the home like the ruthless animal he was.  He didn’t rape that girl, he just killed her, taking away his parents’ lives over and over and over again in a burst of rage that he hadn’t seen coming.  Each time he drove the knife into her tender flesh, he pictured his mother’s body.  With every agonized cry that she expelled, Damon heard his mother’s voice.  When he slashed her slender throat, Damon saw his father’s blood pour from her body.  As her hands left Damon’s wrists where she had been gripping tightly, Damon saw his father’s gaunt, track-marked limbs falling limp as the life slowly left his body. 

He was panting heavily as he stood and looked down at the carnage he had created.  The woman was completely unrecognizable due to the multiple stab wounds that marred her middle-aged body.  Blood coated the walls, the floors, the bed, even the ceiling.  The room looked like the scene of a massacre.  Once Damon had caught his breath, he raided her house, filling his duffel bag with cash and valuables, before he took a shower and changed into clean clothing.  With the insatiable urge satiated for now, he made his way back to his unit.  Like always, Sandy didn’t ask questions, and Damon liked that about her.  He had been gone two days and she didn’t bust his balls, she just curled her tiny body into his large one and sleepily mumbled, “Missed you.”

Damon’s days were largely spent thinking about the opportunity he lost by not murdering his parents before they killed themselves by overdosing.  He started to become consumed by anger with himself, with his parents, with life in general.  The only people Damon didn’t unleash his fury on was his wife and daughter.  One spring day, he was working in the yard assembling a swing set his wife had picked up at a yard sale, when Sandy’s mother came by.  She made a comment, seemingly innocuous, about Damon.  He had spun around and levelled her with a glare intense enough to make her wither.  She was high, he could tell.  Her eyes were bloodshot and she was grinning stupidly, even though nothing was funny.

“Get the fuck off my property,” he boomed.

She startled and stuttered over her words as she apologized, but Damon wasn’t hearing any of that.  He strode toward her with intent, wishing he could wrap his strong hands around her throat and squeeze until her lungs screamed for air and her face turned a deathly shade of grey. 

“D-D-Damon,” she stammered, looking fearful as she took in the murderous gleam in his eyes.

“Fuck off, and don’t come back,” he snarled right in her face.

“I just came to see Sandy and my granddaughter,” she snapped, finding her inner strength.  She was afraid of him then, but she wasn’t about to show him.

“They’re
mine
and you don’t get to see them unless I want you to.”

“Is… is Sandy okay?”

Damon snarled sinisterly.  “Bitch, the only one who’s not going to be okay here will be you.  Unless you FUCK OFF!” Damon bellowed.

“Damon!  What’s going on?”  Sandy’s sweet voice, shaking with confusion, broke through the fiery haze clouding his judgement.

“Nothing,” Damon mumbled as he worked to swallow his anger.  He spun around and marched back to the swing set, taking his anger out on the unforgiving metal instead of the pliable flesh of his mother-in-law.

Sandy’s mother was hesitant to visit after that incident, and she was even more cautious when speaking with Damon at any time after that. 

The following morning, Sandy awoke to the smell of maple syrup and crispy bacon.  Damon was in their tiny kitchen, cooking his wife an apology breakfast.  He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to.  Sandy gave him a soft, understanding smile as she sat down at the table and ate the delicious food her husband had prepared.

Sitting there, staring across the table at a man who had murdered and raped countless women, I couldn’t help but wonder if Sandy had stuck by him.  Does she come and visit him in prison?  Was she completely blindsided when her husband was charged and convicted with his crimes?

“Do you ever have any other visitors?” I asked, finally breaking the silence that had stretched between us when he finished reading from his journal and closed the book.

He shook his head.

“Not your wife?” I probed.

A flash of utter devastation passed through his assessing gaze but it was gone almost before I saw it.  He shook his head, just once.

“What about your daughter?  Does she visit you?  What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t visit.  Doubt she knows who I am,” he said gruffly.  I wanted to ask him more, I wanted him to open up to me more than he had opened up to anyone else, but the guard called the end of our session.

Aden was working a double shift, so before I left the prison, I asked the woman behind the front desk if he was available.  She checked her computer and then nodded before bringing her phone to her ear. She spoke with Aden for a moment, telling him he had a visitor, and then she replaced the handset in the dock and let me through.  He was sitting behind his desk, watching a bunch of monitors.  It looked like a group of the inmates were in an outside yard.  Some were playing basketball or lifting weights, others were just standing around, talking.

“Do you have to watch those screens all day?” I asked, picturing how boring it would be to watch the black and white images constantly.

He gave me a weary nod.  “Got to keep an eye on them.”

“I brought you some cupcakes.”  I smiled and handed him the package.  I felt a little awkward, like I wasn’t sure how to act.  I waited for him to take the lead, which he did, willingly.

“Come here, Scarlett,” he requested, his voice rough.

“Are there cameras in here?”  The instant the question left my mouth, I realized that was what had been making me feel awkward.  I didn’t want to be filmed making out with Aden in his office and risk him getting into trouble from his supervisor.

“No, baby,” he assured me.  “Now, come here.” 

I rounded the desk and he spun in his chair so he was facing me.  “Kiss me,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I smarted.  Then I bent down and touched my lips to his.  Our kiss was deep, passionate, but didn’t last as long as I would have liked.  Given Aden
was
supposed to be working, and his job was super important, I didn’t let things get as carried away as I wanted.

“See you tonight?” I breathed hopefully.

“Yeah, sweetheart.  It’ll be late,” he warned.

I stood and reached into the back pocket of my jeans, pulling out the small item I had been wanting to give him for a couple of weeks, but was too nervous to do so. 

“You should have this,” I said, placing the key into his hand.

“You sure?”

I nodded.  We had been together for a couple of months, and while that wasn’t a long time, I knew how I felt.  The feelings I had for Aden ran
deep
.  Deep in a way that when I imagined my future, I saw him in it, and try as I might, I couldn’t
not
see him in it.  I wanted him there for everything.  Every occasion, every day-to-day menial stuff… I wanted him there.  I wanted to fall asleep beside him every night and wake up the same way each morning.  I was falling fast and hard for this gorgeous man, and I had no intention of pumping the brakes.

“Kiss me again, then I better get back to work.”

“Okay, honey.”  I kissed him again and then once more when he walked me to his door to let me out.  Yes, I was definitely falling hard and fast for Aden West.

***

POSITION VACANT

Sweet Treats Bakery is looking to hire!

Applicants must be honest, reliable, enthusiastic, and willing to learn.  Prior experience with customer service and knowledge of cash registers and coffee machines are preferable.

Contact Scarlett today.

It had taken me over an hour to word the short and sweet job advertisement.  I added my phone number and email address at the end, then printed off a copy to post in the front window of the bakery.  I emailed a copy to a local newspaper and requested the ad be run for the next two weeks.  Hopefully, I would get lots of applicants, or at the very least, one good one. 

It was mid-afternoon, so I decided to pour myself a glass of wine and get started on some dinner.  I knew Aden wouldn’t arrive until late tonight, but I still plated him up a chicken fried steak and some mashed potatoes, which I left in the microwave for him to heat up when he got in.  I fell asleep early and only stirred when Aden slid into bed behind me sometime during the night.  He curled his large body around my small one, tucking my back into his front, his tattooed arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried into my neck. 
Heaven.

***

“Scarlett, you’ve got another cake order,” Ella informed me as she handed me the slip of paper.  I glanced over the details written in Ella’s cursive handwriting.  “Apparently the lady you made those one hundred and fifty cupcakes for has been referring you to her friends.”

“Louisa?  Wow!  That’s great.”  The particular order I was scanning was for a pre-Thanksgiving celebration for a ladies social gathering, and they required forty red velvet cupcakes surrounding a large round red velvet cake.  I left the counter where I was sprinkling candied lemon rind on a batch of citrus cupcakes and walked into my office to write the order on my schedule. 

A few moments later, I was sliding the cupcakes into the display case when Macy came bounding over to me.

“Brielle had the baby!” she cheered excitedly.  “Ashley Florence, born at two-fifty a.m., weighing six pounds, and nineteen inches long.  Isn’t she gorgeous?!” She showed me a picture on her cell.

“Oh, she’s gorgeous.  Tell Brielle I say congrats.”

“I will.”  She quickly typed out the message before sliding her phone back into her pocket and resumed serving customers. 

I wasn’t the girl who dreamed of having lots of babies when I was a little kid.  In fact, I couldn’t remember even planning my wedding or naming my Barbies.  My bakery had always been like a child to me, something I nourished and poured love into while watching it flourish.  However, after seeing the picture of Brielle’s baby, it seemed to shake something deep inside of me, and for the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have my own child.  Aden and I hadn’t discussed children, but I hoped he wanted them because I imagined him being an amazing father.  I just hoped I was the woman he chose to be the mother of his spawn.

***

I was in the laundry room, loading clothes into my washing machine, and I could hear Aden talking on his phone in my bedroom.  I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but he had been chatting for a while.  I hit the ‘wash’ button and walked into the kitchen, took a can of diet soda from the fridge, had a sip, placed it back in the fridge, and continued on my cleaning mission.  Over the past few months since I had started dating Aden, my housework had been pushed aside because I preferred to spend time with him rather than vacuuming my floors.  But, it really needed to be done, so I decided I would get everything done within two hours, then I could relax with Aden and watch a movie with a glass of wine. 

I was unpacking the dishwasher when he emerged from my bedroom.  He gave me a grin as he approached the fridge and got himself a beer.  He popped the top, took a large sip, and then set the bottle on the counter before walking over to me.

“That was my ma,” he stated before touching his lips to mine.  “Told her about you.”  I felt my eyes widen before he gave me another lip touch.  “She wants us both at her table for Thanksgiving.” 

Thanksgiving was just two weeks away.  Aden and I hadn’t progressed to the meeting of the family stage of our relationship. In fact, we hadn’t even spoken about it.  I knew he had two sisters and that his dad had died.  He knew my parents lived outside the city and I ate dinner with them once a month, but that was it. 

“Oh, um, well, it was really lovely for her to offer,” I said hesitantly.  I was nervous as all get out suddenly.  I
wanted
to meet his family and at the same time I was scared of what they would think of me.  What if they didn’t like me?  What if they were extremely overprotective of their brother and didn’t think I was good enough for him?

“Told her we hadn’t discussed it, and you might have plans with your folks.  But, baby, if you can swing it, I’d love for you to come,” he replied sweetly.

“Let me see what I can do.”

“You done cleaning?”

I nodded.

“Good.  I’ll order pizza, you choose a movie.”

Aden kissed me again and then went to his phone to order the pizza, while I went to my DVD shelf to pick a movie.  I chose
Died Hard with a Vengeance
.  He chose pepperoni supreme pizza.

“Your mom lives in Chicago, right?” I asked, taking a bite of my second slice of pizza.

“Yep.”  He nodded and took a swig of his beer.  “I’ve got Wednesday through Sunday off work, so we’ll leave Wednesday, whenever you can get off, and come back either Saturday or Sunday, depending on whether you have to work or not.”

It was incredibly sweet that he was thoughtful enough to consider my work commitments.  We were closed Thanksgiving, and it was doable for me to have the other days off, I’d just have to speak with Macy, Ella, and Sammi first.

“I’ll talk to the girls,” I told him.

“Okay, baby.”  He hit play on the movie and I pushed aside the pizza box and curled into him.