Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

Freak grinned showing off his sharp wolfish teeth. He was tall, the same statuesque height as Isaac. He had caramel mahogany skin; she saw the white scars on his face. His head was shaved and his lean figure of bones and muscle emulated her daughter’s father. Freak was quite handsome in his own way but his spirit was hideous. He had scars drawn across his left arm, just like Isaac. Stripe felt immediately nauseous when she saw them.

“Am I a disappointment?” he asked, stepping closer with his hands clasped behind his back.

“No, not really. I-I didn’t exactly have a proper vision of the Night Scrawler in my head. He was always... nothing, an empty vessel.” She hoped her words inflicted some sort of pain. “Where’s my daughter and my mom? You've got me here now. I want my side of the bargain.”

She grew anxious as he curled his hands out from behind his back. He grinned childishly, hopping in a jig. He produced a rectangle black remote, waving it like a magician. He pointed it to the darkness. After a few beats, she heard a click. There was a television screen framed on the wall and it burst to life. Her heart raced, the picture sharpened and her mother flooded slowly onto the screen. Her salt and pepper auburn hair was a mess in a frizz of knots, her skin drained of warmth. Beverley looked drunk, as if she'd chugged back a bucket of tequila slammers.

“What have you done to her?” Stripe whispered.

Freak rolled his eyes. “Relax. She’s fine. She’s just drugged.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m disgusting?! You want to investigate your damned family tree!”

“Where’s Sofia?”

Freak ignored her, clicking the remote and another screen switched on. Stripe felt a mixture of relief and terror as Sofia seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Her black hair had been brushed away from her face with intricate care, her purple pacifier she adored was in her mouth, her tiny lips sucked on it as she slept. She's breathing. That’s what matters.

“See?” he said patronisingly. “She’s fine.”

“Have you drugged her?”

Freak glared as if he'd briefly been slapped with a raw stinking fish. “I wouldn't drug a baby! I'm not crazy. I mean your child is fucking annoying and she doesn't stop crying-”

“She doesn't like strangers, like the most of us.” Stripe glanced to her lifelines on the screens. “How did you get her to fall asleep?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Somebody... is looking after her.”

“Who?” Stripe hissed. “Tell me right now, you sick fuck!”

The air leaked out of her lungs when he rushed her, the knuckles of his hand cracked against her cheek making it burn. The blow sent her head smacking against the back of the chair she was lashed to.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Stripe!” Freak yelled. “You sound exactly like Peter, and the others. Do you want them to die?! Is that what you want? Do you want me to rip your baby to pieces?!”

The tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, no I don’t!”

Freak hooked his fingers around the chair arm, leering down into her personal space. “Then don't say stupid shit because if you do, I will make sure you fucking regret it. Understand?” He shook the chair viciously. “Get it?!”

“Yes,” Stripe cried.

“Leave her alone!” Isaac yelled from the darkness.

Freak smirked, moving to his voice. She could breathe again. “My other guest is finally awake!” he sung, dancing over to Isaac, pushing her lover into the light so she could see him. “Oh wonderful, it’s the one and only Isaac.”

Isaac's skin was pale as snow and a sheen of sweat loomed on his forehead. Thin blood ribbons dripped from the crown of his hair. The sight of him made her heart palpitate.

“You two have no idea how excited I am right now.” Freak clapped his hands together childishly. “I’ve been aching for this.”

And you’ve killed for this.

“What do you want?” Isaac asked painfully.

“I wanted to meet you. Both of you. I’ve heard so much.”

“Who are you?” Stripe asked.

“I thought you’d know by now. You’re the journalist. I thought you would’ve done mountains of research.”

Stripe shook her head, it still ached from his slap. “I have, but I’ve never seen you before. I know you killed the girls, Anna Crawford and so many others.”

Freak’s eyes looked momentarily sad. “It’s a pity you haven't heard of me, but I guess it comes with the territory of being second best.”

“What are you talking about?” Isaac asked.

Freak pointed the black remote again and two additional television screens fizzed on. Oh my god. The fear inside Stripe was bubbling.

“Mom, Dad!” Isaac wailed.

Grace and Ted Payne flooded onto the screen. They were in the same condition as Beverley.

“Relax!” Freak shouted. “They’re drugged! Why does everyone rush to the worst conclusion? No wonder this world is messed up, this planet and everyone in it should drown. I haven't hurt them okay, but I will if you piss me off!”

Stripe wanted to cry again as she saw the anguish on Isaac’s face. “What the fuck do you want?”

“To play a game,” Freak grinned.

“What if we don't want to play?” Stripe asked.

He laughed at her. “Well, if you don't. I’ll kill your loved ones and I'll make you watch.” Freak smirked crudely. “I’d play the game if I were you.”

Stripe and Isaac stared at each other as Purple Rain began to play once more. They knew they didn’t have a choice. Nausea swelled in Stripe’s throat as fear settled and kicked in hard. “Okay,” she whispered, the tears dripping down her cheeks. “Tell us how to play.”

“It’s a nice simple game of Truth,” Freak said with a throw of his arms. “Now, I have you and your lover strapped into special chairs. Peter designed them for people as powerful as Isaac and I. If you answer incorrectly, well... you'll find out what the chair will do.”

“No. Not this game. There’s going to be a catch here,” Isaac whispered.

Freak leaned down, their noses nearly butterfly kissing. “You should know