Final Debt
Page 106
He’d done what any human would do on their death bed. Apologised for past transgressions and accepted forgiveness for those he violated.
His soul was no longer burdened.
Picking up the knife once again, I placed my hand over his, squeezing his useless fingers around the hilt. His tendons and ligaments were no longer attached to signals from his brain. Completely disabled for the rest of his short life.
His eyes met mine. “You’ll do it, after all?”
I shook my head, guiding his hand to hover over his heart. “No.”
“Then what?”
“I can’t kill you, but I can’t allow you to live in such pain any more.” My own bones howled in sympathy. My spine ached and brain overwhelmed with agony.
“You’ll help me?”
I nodded.
“You’re a good son, Kite.” His head fell forward, using up the last of his energy. His lips landed on my forehead and kissed me.
I sucked in a breath, fighting against everything that’d passed between us. I accepted his kiss. His blessing. We held an entire world in a silent conversation.
I wished there was another way. I wished I didn’t have to do this.
But Cut nodded, signalling he was ready.
Who was I to deny his final wish when I’d taken so much from him?
Without breaking eye contact, I leaned on his fist, puncturing his heart with the sharp blade.
So much pain to make him see.
And now, a quick death to make him free.
His forehead furrowed as the knife sank into his chest. He groaned as I twisted the hilt, tearing through the muscle and killing him as fast as possible.
He’d already suffered enough. I wanted him to leave without pain.
His forehead touched mine as I bowed over his dying form. His pulse thundered in his neck. His soul clung tight to his perishing body. And as the final gasp left his broken chest, I closed my eyes and kissed his cheek.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
I did what I could never stomach and tethered myself to his last flickering thought. I held tight as he slipped into the afterlife. I lived his final farewell.
His eyes shot their message as well as his heart. “Take care of those you love, Kite. Don’t ever doubt I was proud of you. So, so proud.”
And then…he was gone.
It didn’t take long to source enough kindling and set up a small pyre inside the barn.
All I wanted to do was rest. To sleep. To forget. But I wouldn’t leave my father’s corpse undealt with. That would be sacrilege. His immortal soul was free. His mortal remains had to be, too.
It took the last of my energy to move his dead body into the middle of the barn and rest it on top of the kindling. Once his hands were linked on his chest, and his broken limbs placed straight and true, I worked on building a last goodbye.
Moving as quickly as I could, I wedged more tinder around his lifeless corpse. Trudging from forest to barn, I built up enough fuel to create a fire that would last all night, a fitting send-off for my cruel father.
Once I’d buried Cut in branches, I hauled the rack closer, scooped every torture device off the table, and scattered them around him. After the fire, I wanted no remains or reminders of what went on in this place.
Stepping back, I checked my handiwork before moving toward the utility cupboard storing bleach and gasoline. The bleach had been for blood and the gasoline for the bonfires we’d occasionally had out here to cull a few trees.
Fighting the dregs of energy in my system, I poured the sharp smelling petrol over my father’s corpse, the rack, the floor, the very walls of the despicable barn.
Only once every item and inch of the place had been drenched did I strike the match.
Taking the camera and Cut’s last confession to a tree a safe distance away, I returned to stand by the doors and fling the sulphur rich flame onto the slick trail of gasoline.
Nothing happened.
The flames didn’t catch. They went out.
Fuck.
My hands shook hard as I struck another match—letting the fire chew some of the stick before tossing it to the glistening floor.
This one worked.
The sudden whoosh of heat and orange exploded into being, rippling along the liquid path I’d set, eagerly consuming the tinder I’d given.
The cold night warmed as I stood in the entry and let the fire take firmer root. I didn’t move as the crackle and singe of my father’s skin caught fire. The smell of human remains burning and the whiff of smoke didn’t chase me away.
I stayed vigil until the woods glowed red with heat and the air became thick with soot.
And still I stood there.
Smoke curled higher in the sky, blotting out the moon and stars.
I stood sentry like the oaks and pines, watching the fire slowly eat its way along the floor and walls, devouring everything in its fiery path, deleting the barn and its history.
Watching my father char to ash, I couldn’t fight the memories of what I’d done. Of the stretching and breaking and pain I’d delivered. I buckled over, vomiting on the threshold. The intensity of what I’d lived through suddenly crushed me. I had no reserves left to ignore it.
I’m sorry.
I’m not sorry.
He deserved it.
No one deserved that.
Stumbling away from the burning barn, I tripped and jogged through the forest to the lake where Nila had been strapped to the ducking stool. There, I fell to my knees, willing the past to fade.
My body purged itself. Daniel’s death. Cut’s death. My mother’s death. Kes’s coma. Jasmine’s disability. And Nila’s torture.
His soul was no longer burdened.
Picking up the knife once again, I placed my hand over his, squeezing his useless fingers around the hilt. His tendons and ligaments were no longer attached to signals from his brain. Completely disabled for the rest of his short life.
His eyes met mine. “You’ll do it, after all?”
I shook my head, guiding his hand to hover over his heart. “No.”
“Then what?”
“I can’t kill you, but I can’t allow you to live in such pain any more.” My own bones howled in sympathy. My spine ached and brain overwhelmed with agony.
“You’ll help me?”
I nodded.
“You’re a good son, Kite.” His head fell forward, using up the last of his energy. His lips landed on my forehead and kissed me.
I sucked in a breath, fighting against everything that’d passed between us. I accepted his kiss. His blessing. We held an entire world in a silent conversation.
I wished there was another way. I wished I didn’t have to do this.
But Cut nodded, signalling he was ready.
Who was I to deny his final wish when I’d taken so much from him?
Without breaking eye contact, I leaned on his fist, puncturing his heart with the sharp blade.
So much pain to make him see.
And now, a quick death to make him free.
His forehead furrowed as the knife sank into his chest. He groaned as I twisted the hilt, tearing through the muscle and killing him as fast as possible.
He’d already suffered enough. I wanted him to leave without pain.
His forehead touched mine as I bowed over his dying form. His pulse thundered in his neck. His soul clung tight to his perishing body. And as the final gasp left his broken chest, I closed my eyes and kissed his cheek.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
I did what I could never stomach and tethered myself to his last flickering thought. I held tight as he slipped into the afterlife. I lived his final farewell.
His eyes shot their message as well as his heart. “Take care of those you love, Kite. Don’t ever doubt I was proud of you. So, so proud.”
And then…he was gone.
It didn’t take long to source enough kindling and set up a small pyre inside the barn.
All I wanted to do was rest. To sleep. To forget. But I wouldn’t leave my father’s corpse undealt with. That would be sacrilege. His immortal soul was free. His mortal remains had to be, too.
It took the last of my energy to move his dead body into the middle of the barn and rest it on top of the kindling. Once his hands were linked on his chest, and his broken limbs placed straight and true, I worked on building a last goodbye.
Moving as quickly as I could, I wedged more tinder around his lifeless corpse. Trudging from forest to barn, I built up enough fuel to create a fire that would last all night, a fitting send-off for my cruel father.
Once I’d buried Cut in branches, I hauled the rack closer, scooped every torture device off the table, and scattered them around him. After the fire, I wanted no remains or reminders of what went on in this place.
Stepping back, I checked my handiwork before moving toward the utility cupboard storing bleach and gasoline. The bleach had been for blood and the gasoline for the bonfires we’d occasionally had out here to cull a few trees.
Fighting the dregs of energy in my system, I poured the sharp smelling petrol over my father’s corpse, the rack, the floor, the very walls of the despicable barn.
Only once every item and inch of the place had been drenched did I strike the match.
Taking the camera and Cut’s last confession to a tree a safe distance away, I returned to stand by the doors and fling the sulphur rich flame onto the slick trail of gasoline.
Nothing happened.
The flames didn’t catch. They went out.
Fuck.
My hands shook hard as I struck another match—letting the fire chew some of the stick before tossing it to the glistening floor.
This one worked.
The sudden whoosh of heat and orange exploded into being, rippling along the liquid path I’d set, eagerly consuming the tinder I’d given.
The cold night warmed as I stood in the entry and let the fire take firmer root. I didn’t move as the crackle and singe of my father’s skin caught fire. The smell of human remains burning and the whiff of smoke didn’t chase me away.
I stayed vigil until the woods glowed red with heat and the air became thick with soot.
And still I stood there.
Smoke curled higher in the sky, blotting out the moon and stars.
I stood sentry like the oaks and pines, watching the fire slowly eat its way along the floor and walls, devouring everything in its fiery path, deleting the barn and its history.
Watching my father char to ash, I couldn’t fight the memories of what I’d done. Of the stretching and breaking and pain I’d delivered. I buckled over, vomiting on the threshold. The intensity of what I’d lived through suddenly crushed me. I had no reserves left to ignore it.
I’m sorry.
I’m not sorry.
He deserved it.
No one deserved that.
Stumbling away from the burning barn, I tripped and jogged through the forest to the lake where Nila had been strapped to the ducking stool. There, I fell to my knees, willing the past to fade.
My body purged itself. Daniel’s death. Cut’s death. My mother’s death. Kes’s coma. Jasmine’s disability. And Nila’s torture.
