Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,129

mercy by wrapping my hands around his throat and pressing down against the fist with as much force as I could muster.

I pressed and pressed until he stopped gurgling. Until the last gasp of air left him—after the echo of his neck snapping stopped bouncing off the walls.

I blink a few times and push my hair out of my face.

The Bitch Mother will be so angry if she finds out what I’ve done but I don’t know how to hide this from her.

I need advice, I tell myself as I turn the chair around to face the live stream then walk out of the room.

“Hello?” I call out softly in the darkened hallway.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And do you feel better now? Has the weight on your soul subsided?”

“No.”

“What are you going to do now, Grace?”

“I don’t know. I need your help.”

“You need to look into my eyes first. Cross the hallway and go into the forgotten chapel. It’s where I’ve been praying so diligently for you.”

I begin to wring my hands as I walk into the room across the way. I’ve always known where she was but I’ve been afraid to face her. I’ve done everything I can to chase her away when she tries to help me because she’s always been far too kind to me. She’s wanted to help me ever since I was first caned by the Bitch Mother, but I’ve continued to shun her at every turn.

And still, now when I need her help the most, she’s willing to put all that aside.

My feet shuffle as I enter the forgotten chapel.

“Come into the light, Grace,” she instructs me in her sweet timber. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I take a deep breath as I walk toward the candles. They’ve always been lit; I just choose to block out any light I can see—real or otherwise.

Once I’m standing in front of the old mirror hanging on the wall between the candles, I look into her eyes and she smiles so sadly at me.

"I wish it never went this far.”

“It’s not my fault,” I tell her as my lower lip begins to tremble. “I tried to be good, but it was never enough. No one cared about me under this roof—only the strangers who watch me through a lens. Don’t I deserve to feel wanted to?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and when she reaches up to wipe it away, I can feel it on my flesh too. She looks so different than she used to—sad, every last ounce of hope she held for me as shattered as the tears that are streaming down her face.

“You can’t live like this, Grace,” she says softly.

“I can’t?” I ask in confusion. “Then what do I do?”

“Rest, sweet girl. Maybe when you awaken, we’ll be together again. One instead of two and you’ll remember what it was like to feel loved in death than in this life that was dealt to you.”

Another tear rolls down her face, another drop of sanity splashes against my bare chest.

I miss being with her.

We used to be the same until the Bitch Mother took to caning me nightly. I would hide in this room and pray for help, but it never came.

That’s when I decided to leave Grace here in a room where hope might still live—where maybe one day we’d be together again, but it just never happened.

I reach a hand up and place it against the mirror, and she does the same.

“I’ll miss you,” I tell her softly.

“Only until we’re reunited again,” she promises with a brave smile.

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you.”

“I forgave that a long time ago, Grace. I’ll wait for you here. Be brave; the last act of kindness you can do is for yourself.”

I nod as I take a deep breath, then lean forward and press my lips against the dusty, cool glass. She does the same and when I pull away, she smiles.

And so do I.

She’s right.

The final act of kindness will absolve me of all of the sins I’ve committed in this holy place.

It will wash away the memory of shoving the Bitch Mother down the garbage chute and laughing when her neck broke.

It will cleanse me of all of the sin of having murdered so many animals to use for the pleasure of others.

It’ll make me a good girl again and we’ll be together.

If there is any goodwill left toward me inside of these walls, I’ll be thrown into the fields behind the convent. Hopefully far enough where the rest of my child rots peacefully in the wild, and every sin I’ve committed since coming here will be cleansed.

A final curtain call and all will be forgiven.

I walk back to my showroom feeling better about things than I have in years. I’m thinking a little clearer now and that feeling of hope I had lost so long ago is starting to surge through my veins.

I walk to the small closet that I keep my habits in, only this time, I pull out a plain black dress and pull it over my naked body.

No more welts or bruises.

No more acts of self-harm or degradation.

No more meaningless deaths.

And most of all, no more nefarious acts being carried out for the pleasure of others.

I scoop up the belt from where I dropped it on the floor, then make my way over toward where Reade is sitting.

I put one hand to his chest and the other around the small bicep, twisting and turning it with all of my might until I’m finally able to extract it from where it’s been lodged in his throat. I toss it toward the wall, shove his body off the chair, then begin to hum my once favorite hymn to myself as I drag the chair toward the wall furthest away from my equipment. As I continue to hum quietly, I walk back toward the desk that holds my computer, and carefully push it closer to the wall until it’s halfway in between to the two spots.

Leaning around the side, I peer into the camera lens, smile, and give a little wave before I head back to the chair. Belt held firmly between my teeth, I climb up, then loop it over the low-hanging pipe that leads into the wall and give it a firm tug.

Once I’m sure it won’t collapse under the weight of my body, I wrap the other end around my neck and loop the belt buckle closed.

Then I close my eyes.

Make the sign of the cross.

And step happily off the edge of the chair.

Now Grace and Paloma can be together again and once my soul surrenders to the sweet serenity of death, no one will ever be able to use me again.