Chapter Thirty: Wrath

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*Violence*

The next few days are bliss.

Absolute bliss.

It was like we were living a life that wasn't ours. A life without drama or trauma, it was just us out here in the woods discovering how to love again after the world had failed us over and over.

We cooked together, chased each other around the house, and went hiking. She smiled and talked more than I'd ever seen, making me the happiest I've been in a long time. All of the pieces were falling together perfectly.

We could make this work. All of the doubts and uncertainty were just that and I would deal with them in due time but for right now all I wanted was to stay in this bed with her in my arms for a few more hours.

Everything about this trip seemed too good to be true, and I guess it was ...

The doorbell rang waking me up from my sleep. The house owners weren't meant to come to get the keys back until this Friday, which was still three days away.

I was no closer to figuring out how to handle Daniel, but that doesn't make me regret this trip. Nothing could make me regret coming here.

Or that's what I thought ...

I sit up straight, untangling May from my side unwilling and sneaking out of bed, not wanting to wake her up. We had just dozed off, after spending another day exploring each other bodies. 

It was probably just a neighbor, I knew this was unlikely, considering we were miles and miles away from any other house.

I should have known that what was lying on the other side of that door was trouble. After all, I'm just a Thatcher that trouble seems to love.

Despite the odds, I was still optimistic. I'm still hoping it was anyone but who I knew it was.

I looked through the peephole, something washing over me, dread maybe.

There was no one there, but I could make out the edge of a package on the corner of the porch. So, very slowly, I opened the door and glanced left and right to make sure there was no one around.

Once again, I try to stay optimistic and try to think that maybe the owners had a package delivered here.

I should have known better.

I reach down and pick up the small box, dread once again washing over me in waves.

My heart began to beat wildly in my chest, so hard and fast I was worried I might fall over dead from a heart attack.

The package was oddly light, and something shifted around in it.

I didn't want to open it.

But I tore at the tape quickly, ripped open the top....

The world stopped spinning.

Everything pulsed around me, the sun shining through the trees brightened and dimmed over and over again. The chirping of the birds around me were loud then quiet. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears in time with it all forcing me to fall to my knees, spit sputtering from my mouth as I stared into the bloodied box.

My burner phone rings from my pocket and my fingers fumble around with it until I eventually grasp it. Hands shaking and soul crushed.

A restricted number...

I answer. His gravily accent-filled voice hits my ears like thunder blocking out everything else including May stumbling out the front door wrapped in a sheet asking me what was wrong.

"How many nails does it take to break a Thatcher?" He laughed, the sound so fucking wicked my stomach turned. "Why don't you bring her home, before its fingers in that box."

With that, he ended the call and I was left staring at four of Archer's blood-covered detached nails along with a tape recorder that simultaneously started to play his screams.

~.~.~.~.~

When Archer was little he had the biggest of puppy dog eyes anyone had ever seen. He had everyone in the house wrapped around his little finger, even our father.

So when he was stolen from the park, everyone lost it. Our father led a search party, our mother stayed on the roads calling out his name from the window over the whole town.

It only took us two days to locate the woman who stole him from us, she was deranged and psychotic, leading her to believe that Archer was her child who drowned nearly twenty years ago. The thing was I looked up a picture of that boy just out of curiosity one time and they could have been twins.

It was like he was born with the genetics to land him in that mad woman's hands.

All of it was so unsettling, then Angelina died from a bullet wound that went through me like I was made of paper ...

Were we destined for disaster? Did Sawyer and Killian have this same problem?

I was destined to die.

I was made to die because that son of a bitch will face my wrath if it's the last thing that I do.

I wanted to see how many of his men's bullets it took to take me down after he choked on his blood.

None of us would have to see his face when we tried to sleep.

We may be destined for disaster but Danial Martinez would know what it felt like to have my hands around his throat.

"You don't have to do this!" May beat against my window with her small fist. "Please! We'll think of another way, August don't leave me!"

Snot ran down her face along with her tears but I ignored them because I couldn't look at her and do what needed to be done. I couldn't see her beg for me to stay and leave, she was engraved into my bones and if she said stay I would have to stay. So I zoned her out as I backed out of Clementine's driveway.

She would be safe here until everything was settled.

I dial Sin.

He answers the phone just as my speedometer reads a hundred, "August?"

"When they lay me down, make sure it's beside my little girl. Everything I have give it to Archer and May. Tell my mother I'm right where I should be and look after them, please."

"Where are you?" He demanded. "August where the fuck are you?"

We always had each other's backs in high school. There had been many times when we would fight back and back against people, but this was a fight I didn't want him to lose his life over.

"Doing what has to be done."

~.~.~.~.~.~

Don't hate me:(

I love you guys.


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