Crooked

The police car sped down the freeway. I swerved around cars and trucks, weaving between lanes of traffic, and pushed my mind to open up. I reached out with those invisible mental hands as far as I could, searching for anything that would lead me to Wesley, like groping around in the dark. My ability had been muted, but I found that the more I tried, the more I forced my brain to work past the blockage, the faster the numbness slipped away. Still, it was difficult to control, and I was weak. I was beginning to lose hope, to wonder if I should turn around, or call for help, when I heard Adam. I felt, just barely within my reach, that he was hurt. He was bleeding, in pain, and feeling hopeless.

My foot even heavier on the gas pedal, I flipped on the car’s siren. It was only a matter of minutes before someone called from the station, wondering where the hell I was going and what I was doing. But I could use that. I plucked my phone from the passenger seat and recorded a message to send to Jane. “There’s an old warehouse at the corner of Vleet and Fifteenth. Send the police there. I may not be able to see you again, as this event will doubtless uncover secrets of mine that have gone well hidden for too long. I am not the person you think that I am, Jane, and once your father and everyone else finds out I’ll have to leave. I’ll have to run and hide, start over with a new life, in a new city. I hope you understand. I care for you, I truly do, but my death is certain if I stay. They will learn my secrets, and I will not go unpunished once they do. Please, don’t forget me, and don’t despise me. I couldn’t bear it if you did."

I pulled onto the gravel drive of the warehouse, and sent the message. The place didn’t look like it had been abandoned, at least not for a very long time. But I knew I was in the right place. I held onto the faint mental string that connected me to Adam and I could feel Randy vaguely as well. He seemed calm, almost too calm, and my throat grew tight as images raced through my head of what could possibly be happening inside. I climbed out, took a moment to double-check my pockets and things, and hurried toward the warehouse.

Inside, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I stood still for a moment, taking deep, silent breaths and letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The room appeared to be mostly empty, and I made my way to a faint door on the opposite wall. I pulled the door open, grunting at the weight of it as it creaked and groaned back, until I was met with a dim hallway, illuminated only by a single flickering bulb. I tip-toed down the hallway, my right hand resting on the gun in my holster, my other hand grazing the concrete wall. The bulb above me swung gently, strobing on and off, buzzing like a bug zapper. My shoes padded like marshmallows across the cement floor, toward the open doorway at the end of the corridor.

The distant honeyed growl of Wesley’s voice sent a shiver up my back. I stopped for a second, then pushed myself forward again. Wesley laughed, a poisonous laugh, and I rounded the corner of the doorway to face him.

“There she is!” Wesley said. He clapped his hands together, the way Vic used to do when his children would spontaneously hurt one another. “We were wondering when you would show up to save the day, princess.”

Adam was in the far corner, his hands tied to a metal post behind his back, a bleeding wound in his leg and another in his shoulder. Randy was tied to a chair in the opposite corner, a piece of duct tape over his mouth. I nearly laughed, knowing that Randy had surely been running his mouth as usual, talking and annoying the shit out of Wes.

“Let them go,” I said, and stepped further into the room.

Randy mumbled behind the tape, trying to wiggle free from his bindings. Adam glared up at me, his eyes barely open.

“I will,” Wesley replied. “If you agree to come back with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, then, no one’s going home alive.” Wesley cackled.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “If Vic is dead, then you’re free to start over, just like I did. If he’s dead, then this doesn’t have to be your life anymore, Wesley. You don’t have to hurt people anymore. You can start over.”

“I don’t want to start over,” said Wesley. “I want to carry on the legacy. I want to collect more of them, the ones like us. I want to build an army of my very own. But I can’t do it alone.”

“You want to take Vic’s place in this depraved cycle of torture and control? You want to take children from their homes and force them to grow up just as we did; always in fear, thinking that all we were good for was being used as tools for someone else’s gain? Don’t you remember what that was like, what he put us through? Don’t you remember all that he did to us?”

“Oh, I certainly remember. I was there, darling.” He began pacing, his long, thin legs taking wide strides, looking as though they might tangle together. “I understand that he was a monster. He was a sadistic, manipulative, animal of a man.” He began bouncing as he stepped, swinging a crowbar in his hand. His spidery limbs made him look like a cartoon villain. “But I also know that I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for Vic. And neither would you. Your mother would have succeeded in killing you, eventually.”

“At least I wouldn’t be burdened by the weight of my conscience.”

“Such dramatics.” He rolled his eyes. “Burdened by the weight of your conscience, are you even listening to yourself? I don’t remember you ever having a conscience.”

“I was born with one, but Vic pummeled it out of me.” I took a deep breath, trying to waste time, urging my mind to open up and work correctly. I pushed at the walls that the drug built around my inner clairvoyance, searching for a way inside Wesley’s head. “At first, in the beginning, I felt great pain at the things we did. I felt such deep remorse for hurting those people, for taking everything they had. But I was punished for feeling. I was punished for showing emotions, especially those of remorse, of guilt, and of empathy.”

“Empathy is overrated.”

I tried my best to appeal to the distant humanity that must have dwelled somewhere within him. “After all we’ve been through, isn’t it our right to live out a somewhat normal existence? Don’t’ we deserve to live happy, ordinary lives?”

“This is just ridiculous, Kat.” He stood still, the crowbar dangling from his hand. “I can’t let you continue to pretend like your family doesn’t matter. Don’t you care about us anymore? Don’t you want to know how Vic died?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That’s cold, love, the man raised you.” Wesley moved to stand over Adam, looking down at him like he was a pitiful fly with his wings plucked off. “So this is the sorry sad sack you’d rather be with? I saw the two of you together, at the museum. And out getting drinks, and playing house with this strange little boy.” He pointed at Randy, laughing. “Is he supposed to be your pseudo-son? You’re seriously delusional, Kat. And this guy?” He poked Adam in the chest with the crowbar. “Bit of a down grade, I’d say. Never seen him with a decent shave.”

“Go to Hell,” Adam said, weakly.

Wesley grinned as he raised the crowbar over his head. “Already been there, pal. I dare say you’d fit right in...” I could see that Wesley was inside Adam’s mind, rummaging through his memories, his fears, his secrets kept in the dark corners. “Quite the little sinner, you are.”

Adam cried out as Wesley swung the steel bar into his knee, an audible crunch telling me that things were definitely broken. My chest ached and I watched Wesley lift the crowbar into the air again.

“Enough!” I screamed, pulling out my gun and pointing it at Wesley.

He laughed again, slowly dropping his arm, turning over his shoulder to look at me. “You’re not going to shoot me, Kat.” His voice melted into my ears and, though I tried my best to resist it, I felt his hold on me.

I tried to pull the trigger, but his control over me was too strong. I’d weakened my defenses with that damned opium, and even though it was wearing off, I still couldn’t fight him. I poured every ounce of my strength into squeezing the trigger, but my finger wouldn’t budge.

“Why don’t you shoot your new boyfriend instead,” Wesley said, nodding toward Adam.

When I didn’t move, he frowned. “Well, go on, shoot him.”

I trembled, the muscles in my arms tightening. I kept the barrel straight on Wesley, unmoving. “No,” I said, the premature victory in my voice noticeable.

“I said shoot him! Shoot the boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I shouted. I hadn’t wanted to say it out loud, my only loophole to avoiding carrying out Wesley’s command. But my mind was trapped under his spell and I was compelled to tell him the truth.

“Huh,” said Wes, frowning. “I guess I misread that, then. Well, shoot him anyway.”

I fought as hard as I could against my straining muscles as my arms moved to point the gun at Adam. I groaned, trying to fight against Wesley’s control as my body pivoted to face my partner. Adam looked at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Watkins, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “You don’t understand.”

“Come on, Kat, on with it! I don’t have all night.” Wesley chuckled as he came to stand behind me. Glancing at the gun in my hand, I saw that the safety was still on and stifled a sigh of relief. I could pull the trigger if Wesley wanted me to, but he never said anything about the safety.

“You’d better not shoot me, Watkins,” Adam said. “Don’t you dare fucking shoot me, I swear to God—“

“Isn’t he adorable?” Wesley chuckled. “There is no God, you idiot.”

My muscles were sore and trembling, my stomach turning. I tried to steady my breath, continued pushing against Wesley’s hold on my mind, and then I heard something that made my blood run cold. Jane’s voice echoed down the hallway and into the room.

“Lenore?” she called. “Where are you?”

“No,” I whispered.

Wesley looked at me quickly, smirking. “Ahh,” he said. “The girl. I see.” He clicked his tongue in thought for a moment, then said, “you can relax, Kat. But don’t you dare move.”

I dropped my arm to my side, still gripping the gun tightly, and exhaled. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jane turn into the room.

Adam yelled, “Jane, run!” but it was too late.

Wesley pulled the gun from my hand and pointed it at Jane. Her hands shot up into the air, terror quickly invading her face. He didn’t hesitate for a moment; Wesley pulled the trigger.

“No!” I yelled. Instantly, the unfamiliar sting of tears invaded my eyes. I wanted to run to her side, but I couldn’t get my legs to move. I was able to turn my head just enough to see her crumpled on the floor, and my entire body went lax. I fell to my knees, every inch of me on fire.

“You bastard!” Adam yelled. He struggled against his bindings, pure rage written all over his face. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

I breathed deeply, steadying my nerves. A strange sensation washed through my mind and body, as if the grief had rinsed away the last effects of the opium. A familiar sort of emptiness spread out through my chest, and I closed my eyes. I thought of the darkness that used to consume me whenever I needed its strength. I thought of the grim satisfaction I used to feel after watching the light of life leave someone’s eyes. I thought of the slick warmth of blood on my hands, and how it used to comfort me. Then, I remembered something Vic had taught me long ago. The first lesson he’d ever taught me, when he was still a kind man whose greed hadn’t yet taken over every part of him. When he had truly wanted to help me, to see me succeed.

Even when you’re at your weakest, he had said, there is so much strength within you, Lyla. You may not be able to feel it, but it’s there. You just need to call on it.

How? I’d asked him. My big, round eyes stared up at him through a haze of tears, a dying, broken puppy draped across my lap. It had been hit by a car, right outside of our house, and he’d asked me to finish it off, to kill it and put it out of its misery. How do I change what I feel inside? How do I turn pain into power?

Pain is Power, Lyla. The simple fact that you can feel it at all, and keep on breathing, means more than you could ever know.

Now, staring at Jane lying there on the floor, motionless, with Adam struggling in the corner and Randy sobbing nearby, I felt something inside of me snap. I remembered Michael Twins, the tea and ashes scent of his house and the quickness with which I’d killed him. I thought of that poor puppy dog, and how it seemed to take ages for him to stop twitching and writhing in my lap as I squeezed my hands tightly around his throat, tears pouring down my face. I dug deep inside myself and pulled out the last bit of strength I could manage, pressing out against the haze that clouded my mind.

I jumped to my feet and strode across the room, swinging my fist hard into the side of Wesley’s unsuspecting face.

“Dammit!” he yelled. “The sucker-punch is just your go-to move, isn’t it?”

I pulled back and hit him again, but this time he swung back. I barely connected with his face before feeling his fist connect with mine. Stars and darkness filled my vision, and I was on the floor again, blinking. Wesley picked up his crowbar, cursing, and stormed across the room toward Adam.

Light reflected off of something out the corner of my eye, and I turned to look at Jane. She lay there peacefully, and I puzzled at the absence of blood on her clothes. Then I saw what had caught my eye; a syringe. Inching its way out of her jacket pocket was the syringe she’d found in my closet. I reached in to find the little glass bottle of liquid as well, and my heart raced with pride. I heard a sickening, wet thud, and Adam cried out in pain.

I turned to see Wesley wailing on him with the crowbar. “I will beat him to death!” he screamed. “Unless you come back with me.”

I stood up, discreetly filling the syringe while he was preoccupied. I would owe Adam big time after this, I just knew it. But I had to act fast.

“You killed him,” I said. “Didn’t you?” Wesley stopped, staring down at Adam, the crowbar held above his head, dripping with blood. The venom in my voice was a surprise even to me. I felt a power surging through me that I’d never felt before. “You killed Vic, and now you’re lost. Lost without him telling you what to do. That’s why you need me, isn’t it? You came back because you’re all alone now. I doubt any of the others would stay with you after you killed their leader.”

“I told you, Kat,” said Wesley, “you’ll never be rid of me.”

I moved toward him slowly as I reached into his mind. I’d never been brave enough to look into Wesley’s thoughts before, but I had to do something. I searched so deeply into his mind that he actually winced in pain.

“Get out of my head,” he demanded.

It threw me out for a moment, but I went right back in. “Part of me always knew that you’d be the one to get rid of Vic, but I never thought you’d do it like that.”

He simply grunted. I continued to move toward him.

“You murdered him in his sleep,” I said. “You coward.”

“I know all about Michael Twins,” Wesley yelled, spinning around to face me. An attempt to hurt me, to compromise me emotionally, but I wasn’t going to fall for it.

I stood directly in front of him now, glaring into his dead, empty eyes. His bones protruded from his face, his skin pale and sickly. He was miserable, I realized. Without Vic to tell him what to do, he had nothing. He was no one.

“When you see him,” I said, quietly, “tell him I said hello.” With that, I jabbed the syringe into his shoulder and pressed the plunger down. His face fell flat as the drugs seeped into his veins.

“What—” Wesley collapsed to the floor.

I took my gun out of the back of his pants, rushed to Adam’s side, and began to untie him. His face was swollen, his whole body covered in blood. He looked up at me through one half-open eye and I thought, for a second, I saw him smile.

“I’m getting Jane out of here,” I said, “before the police arrive. She doesn’t need to be mixed up in this.”

“What did you give him?” He nodded toward Wesley.

“Opium,” I said. “If you let him live, he’ll have to be pumped full of it constantly to keep him from mentally controlling everyone who crosses his path.” I put the gun into his hand

“And if I don’t?” Adam looked up at me, twisting his sore wrists around.

“Then I’ll be free. We’ll all be free.”

Adam hesitated, watching me as I walked over to Jane and tore her jacket open. I chuckled, shaking my head in relief at the heavy, ceramic vest she was wearing.

“Watkins,” Adam said.

I hoisted Jane up and held her as I turned to face him.

“What do you want me to do?”

I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me at that point, whether Wesley lived or died, whether he was apprehended and then released to wreak havoc on the world, whether or not I was found out for the fraud that I am. The only thing that mattered was that Jane was okay, and that she had nothing to do with this, as far as authorities were concerned. I looked up at Randy, who sat motionless, blinking at Wesley’s body heaped on the ground.

“You make the call, Deputy.” I nodded at him and left.

I hurried through the doorway and down the corridor with Jane in my arms. Just before I stepped out of the warehouse, I heard the distant sound of police sirens growing closer. They were on their way. It was almost over.

From inside the warehouse, I heard the sound of a gunshot.