"Look, Patrick, I don't have time to explain it all, so here's the Reader's Digestversion. Niley and crew raped and tortured Richard's mother and brother. We are going to kill them for that. All of them."
"What about Sheriff Wilkes and his men?"
"If Thompson helped rape Richard's mom, then he wasn't the only one. Anyone who touched either of them is dead. Do you understand that, Patrick? Dead."
"I can't do it," he said.
"Then stay in the car," I said, "but shut the f**k up or I'm going to shoot you."
"See," he said, "see, your conscience is bothering you."
I glanced at him huddled in the dark. "No, my conscience isn't bothering me. Not yet. Maybe later. Maybe not. But now, tonight, I don't feel bad about what I did. I wanted Thompson to hurt. I wanted to punish him for what he did. And you know what, Patrick? It wasn't enough. It will never be enough, because I killed him too f**king quick." Tears were threatening at the back of my throat again. When the numbness and anger wore off, I was going to be in trouble. I had to hold onto the adrenaline, the rage. It would see me through the night. Tomorrow, well, we'd see.
"There had to be another way," Patrick said.
"I didn't hear you offering any suggestions at the time."
"What's bothering the good doctor," Jason said, "is that he didn't say anything. He didn't do anything to stop us."
I appreciated the "us."
"I didn't hold him down," Patrick said. "I didn't touch him."
"All you had to do was say, 'Stop, don't,' but you kept quiet. You let us chop him up. You let us kill him and didn't say a damn word," Jason said. "Your conscience wasn't working so hard while he was still alive."
Patrick didn't say anything for a long time. We bumped over the road, avoiding tree branches and dirt-filled holes. There was nothing but the darkness, the golden tunnel of headlights, and the engine-filled silence. I wasn't sure silence was my favorite thing right now, but it was better than listening to Patrick tell me what a monster I was. I agreed with him, which made it harder to hear.
Then something filled the silence that was even harder to hear. Patrick was crying. He huddled against the far door, as far from both of us as he could get, and cried softly. Finally, he said, "You're right. I did nothing, and that will haunt me for the rest of my days."
"Join the club," I said.
He peered at me through the darkness. "Then why did you do it?"
"Someone had to."
"I will never forget the sight of you chopping him up. This little girl ... The look on your face when you killed him. God, you looked blank like you weren't even there. Why did you have to be the one to do it?"
"Would it have been better if one of the guys had done it?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Please don't tell me this is some macho shit. That you're this upset because a girl did it?"
Patrick snuffled. "I guess it is. I mean, I guess it wouldn't seem so horrible if one of the others had done it. You're this pretty little thing. You shouldn't be chopping people's fingers off."
"Oh, please," I said.
"I will go to my grave seeing the look on your face at the last."
"Keep it up, and you'll go sooner than later," I mumbled.
"What did you say?" Patrick asked.
"Nothing," I said.
Jason made a small sound that might have been a laugh. If he only knew how unfunny the comment had been. I was having enough trouble with what I'd just done. I didn't need a sobbing Jiminy Cricket to emphasize the fact that I'd fallen into the abyss. The monster wasn't breathing down my neck; it was inside my head. Inside my head, fat and well-fed. What made me so sure the monster was home was the fact that I didn't feel guilty. I felt bad because I was supposed to feel bad and didn't. I had to have some personal line that could not be crossed, and I'd thought torture was it. And I'd been wrong.
Tears tightened my throat, but I'd be damned if I'd cry. It was done. I had to let it go -- or at least push it back long enough to get the job done. The job was to rescue Daniel and Charlotte. If I didn't get them out, then it had all been for nothing. I'd added a new nightmare for nothing. But it was more than that. I couldn't face Richard if I let them die. I'd been angry with him, pissed, but now I wasn't. I'd have given a great deal for him to hold me right now. Of course, he'd have probably agreed with Patrick. Richard would be a very wise man if he didn't attempt to lecture me tonight.