it. He offered to look the other way on some other things in exchange. I can’t prove it according to the law, but my intel is reliable.”
Amaya sits frozen on the bed. Three-quarters of the way free and—she can’t move. Heat crawls up her neck and salty tears run down her face. She looks down at The Ram, his face still turned away. “No,” she whimpers. “Please, no.”
VV takes a step toward Amaya and extends her the knife, handle first. “He’s a sadist. A rapist. A crook. A murderer.” Her voice has gone soft, soothing. “People often assume a psychopath can only be one thing. When in reality, it means they can be everything. He deserves to suffer and die, even before what he did to you.”
Amaya slices the last of the rope away and stands on two wobbling legs, ignoring the trickle of wet heat sliding down her inner thighs. She points the knife toward VV, calculating her odds of survival. They’re slim. “Who is that?” She points to The Ram on the floor.
VV backs slowly away toward the body. “Are you going to kill him?” she asks.
Amaya’s heart is hammering in her chest. The world is slowed down and inconsequential. “Yes,” she says, “isn’t that what you want? Would that pass your little test?”
“No,” replies VV. “That’s how you fail it.”
“What?” cries Amaya. She’s at a complete loss for what to say or do. She’d felt full of purpose at the beginning of the night. An ugly duck set to become a deadly swan. She can’t help but feel disconnected from her body, from God, from a purpose. VV was supposed to be her purpose. “What do you want?”
“Do you know what keeps me awake at night, Amaya?” VV extends her hand for her to take, and Amaya is incapable of resistance. She guides them both to the ground on either side of The Ram. “I have a recurring nightmare where the one person I truly want to face my justice—dies. He slips in the shower and breaks his neck. He gets in a car accident and is killed instantly. There are times I wake up screaming.”
Amaya squeezes her hand. She knows that feeling.
“Do you know why I don’t kill him?”
“No,” Amaya whispers.
VV rolls The Ram onto his back and confirms he’s Benicio Morelli; her rapist and her mother’s murderer. She can’t resist lashing out with the knife. She slices his face, painting a scarlet line across his cheek and lip. He doesn’t move. VV takes both her hands and stills her. “I don’t kill him because if I do, I’ll have nothing left to live for. The movement won’t be enough to sustain me. When I finally give him everything he deserves, it will be in service of the movement.”
Amaya sobs. “What is it, VV? What is the movement?” She topples forward into the older woman’s arms.
VV holds her and lets her cry. “There’s a rot in the world, feasting on us from when we are little girls. We’re afraid to go out alone. We’re afraid to go out and live our lives freely in a world ruled by men. How do you fight an idea? How do you wage war on the global conscience?”
“I don’t know,” Amaya whispers into her neck.
“We make them afraid, Amaya. We hold them accountable. Until then, everyone I kill has his face, and I am always their victim. I don’t pity any of them. They are all the same to me. If the law does not protect you, the law does not apply.”
Amaya backs away and clears the snot and tears from her face. Her hope is an undying ember in her mangled soul. “How do I pass the test?”
“He raped you,” she says evenly. “I filmed it. His face and yours are clearly visible. It’s damning evidence. He’s the police chief of the NYPD. He could be a very useful pawn. We would own him. We could use him, control him, and eventually destroy him.” She paused. “Or…I can get rid of the evidence and kill him. I’ll do it alone if you prefer. It will be my parting gift to you. Our paths will never cross again if you don’t come after me. I am my own god, Amaya. There are only the things I do and the things I do not do.” The older woman slowly removes her mask to reveal herself to Amaya. “Make your choice; the moment or the movement?”