The Land Where Sinners Atone

by Mason, V. F.

  “You want to kill him in some special place?” I ask, although what for I’m not sure. Maybe because I find it odd how well she knows this island and chose this place of all others to finally fulfill her revenge.

  “Oh yes. I’ve dreamed about it for years. And figured killing him in a car accident will be the easiest way to separate you two and leave you with all this money. Can you imagine how awesome your life will be? Our lives, since we’re best friends.”

  Lydia has completely lost her mind and no longer has any sense of reality, which means she has built herself a world in her head and thinks everyone will align with her illusions.

  “Phoenix.” Zachary’s harsh tone pulls me back to the present, and I focus my stare on him, his eyes studying me oddly, and I realize he must’ve called me several times.

  “I’d like to get some tea before we go.” His brows shoot up, and then he shouts to Eudard, “You go ahead. We’ll stay a bit longer.”

  “How will you get back?”

  “We’ll grab a cab. I heard you have those here.” But would they work during this weather? I imagine no one wants to drag their ass out and put it on the line for tourists.

  To my shock, Eudard just nods and hops inside the vehicle, waving at me before he drives off onto the empty road with the sky darkening around us. Suddenly, I shiver, rubbing my arms.

  Zachary tugs me into the coffee shop, heading toward the ordering counter, and I notice how the line to it is huge. Probably everyone wants to grab their orders before going back to their houses.

  Zach stops and lifts my chin before placing his mouth on mine, his thumb pressing on my skin so hard I open up to him, sharing a harsh and, for some reason, desperate kiss that only magnifies the pain growing in my chest.

  Before I can deepen it, he snatches his mouth away as we both breathe heavily, and he rests his forehead on mine. “I love you, Phoenix.” With this, he walks off to stand in line while thousands of thoughts rush through my mind, from devastation to happiness, but more importantly, it makes the choice I settled on the minute Lydia told me her plan even more difficult.

  However, I push them all away, focusing only on the desire to end the nightmare that has been my constant companion for the last four years, and with one last glance toward Zachary, trying to memorize everything about him, I dart toward the backdoor, passing by the washroom and looking around to find the exit.

  Finally outside, I don’t pay attention to how lightning streaks through the sky accompanied by a loud boom filling the air or the navy-blue darkness above me as I search for and spot the black car waiting for me with its engine running.

  I quickly go to it and open the door, sitting inside it. I take a deep breath when the flashback from four years ago hits me so hard I grip the steering wheel with my sweaty, trembling hands.

  The screech of tires.

  The blood dripping down my windshield.

  Angelica lying on the sidewalk dead.

  My breathing becomes raspy as my heartbeat gallops in my chest. I promised myself to never drive again after what happened to me.

  With one deep inhale, I press on the pedal and drive off in the direction flashing on the GPS. Lydia must have already programmed it. I’m ready to face whatever she has to offer.

  I don’t agree with her plan.

  There shouldn’t be any changes.

  The hunter and the prey have to die together, because that’s the connection that always keeps them together, right?

  So be it.

  Neither Zach nor Emmaline will be collateral damage.

  Zachary

  Standing still among people is not a fucking easy task to do while I wait for my woman to finally spill the task Lydia ordered her to do in order to finally kill me.

  After the truth Zeke sent me, I wanted to scoop them all up and drive to Eudard’s house to shield them from her insanity, only to notice Phoenix talking on the phone, and realizing Lydia got to her sooner.

  Who else but the fucking psycho?

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I probably should feel remorse for thinking this about a girl whose life has been tragic with the fucking father who shouldn’t have even been called one. She experienced hell on earth, almost leaving her no chance for a normal life.

  But she had her entire loving family and all the Kings’ resources at her feet; if she’d just asked for fucking help, everyone would have been there for her.

  Therefore…

  The bitch who killed my wife and so many other people doesn’t deserve shit from me, especially not after she scared my woman again.

  I glance around to check on Phoenix only to find she is nowhere in sight, and cursing, I run outside only to see a black car with her driving racing away before I can stand in front of it and stop it.

  “Fucking hell!” I roar, pulling at my hair and hating myself for not seeing her decision in advance. Knowing how compassionate and loving she is, I should have expected she would choose to die herself rather than deliver me on a silver platter to the psycho.

  I’ve already notified the authorities about it back in New York, and they issued a warrant to search her house, where they’ll probably find a lot of details on all the cases. I thought this way they would catch her in time, after my death, before she could do anything to my girls.

  And then they could live happily ever after without Lydia’s shadow hanging over their heads.

  “Think, Zach, think.”

  All the files I’ve got on her life play in my head while I try to put them all together to make a clear picture of where she would have taken her “daddy,” so he could pay for all his sins.

  “Yes!” I exclaim when it finally dawns on me.

  This was the last place her father brought her before he died. One of the reasons she probably wants to dish out her revenge here.

  I look around, darting back to the coffee shop, shouting, “I need a boat. I’ll pay any amount.” This is the fastest way for me to get where I need. Collective chuckles fill the air though.

  “Good luck finding one, son,” one of the men says and shakes his head. “In this storm, no sane man will go with you.”

  “Thankfully, I’m not sane” comes the reply from behind me, and I spin around to see a man leaning on the doorjamb, his blue eyes watching me curiously beneath his blond hair.

  “Let’s go.” He seems oddly familiar, yet I can’t remember ever talking to him. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Without thinking or dwelling much on the fact that this guy popped out of nowhere ready to sail with me, I go with him and pray to God I can make it in time to save my woman before anything happens to her.

  Please, God.

  Don’t take the woman I love from me twice.

  We hop in his car, and as we hastily drive, he announces, “We’ll be at my boat in five minutes. Where do you need to go?” I tell him the location, and he whistles, albeit chuckling. “And they call us insane.”

  I don’t even bother to think who the fuck “us” is and hope he won’t be too chatty on our way. “Why are you helping me then?” I ask. All things considered, there is a high chance of dying in the open ocean.

  Those are risks I’m willing to take if it means saving Phoenix.

  “Any man desperate enough to sail a boat in this storm must have one heck of a reason to do it,” he replies, and then without taking his eyes from the road, he extends his hand to me. “Micaden.”

  Ah, I see.

  Eudard might have left with my daughter to protect her, but he sends in one of his best friends and the owner of this town.

  Funny thing about friendships?

  If you are loyal enough, people are willing to risk their lives for you.

  I just hope all this is worth it and we’ll save Phoenix.

  As life has no meaning otherwise for me.

  Lydia, be fucking damned, won’t win again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Take me to the land where sinners atone…”

  P
hoenix

  Phoenix

  A sigh of relief slips past my lips as I navigate the car on the empty road, following the voice guidance, too afraid to slow down or go in a different direction for fear of Lydia planting something in this car.

  What if she has a bomb set?

  After all, she can’t be rational in her hate toward Zachary, and killing innocent people is not a big deal for her.

  She hasn’t contacted me yet via phone or the car; who knows how technologically savvy she is, considering her father and Brady, which means she hasn’t caught on to my deceit.

  The minute this thought flashes through my mind, a screeching voice comes from the speakers of the radio. “You chose him!” I hear a loud banging on the other end as if she hits herself hard before she whispers, “You betrayed me!”

  “I didn’t,” I reply, willing myself to stay calm in this situation and imagine myself talking to one of my patients.

  Anger and judgment won’t open her up to me. I have to come from the place of understanding and love while still acting as if I care about her above everyone else.

  “You did! He was supposed to drive it! Him and not you.” I hear a loud honking from behind me and look in the side mirror, seeing a car chasing after me. I realize it must be Lydia. “I should have known not to trust you!” She must have just started following me; otherwise, she would’ve known about the change of her stupid so-called plan.

  Did she really think I would sacrifice anyone if I had myself to offer? But then, Lydia doesn’t know what love is or entails. Even if people displayed it toward her, her spirit has been too damaged to see it.

  “I never promised to follow your plan,” I reply and check the map on the GPS. Shortly, the road will separate at a crossroad; one of the destinations leads to some house, based on the location, while the other sort of ends on the edge.

  My brows furrow at this while my mind races with this information. Does it mean it’s the edge of a cliff?

  Usually, warnings are displayed all over such areas to stop people from venturing there at night especially, lest they die accidentally.

  Only there will be nothing accidental about my plan.

  With Lydia behind me, I could make her drive right after me, because the pull toward her most beloved prey will be too hard to resist, and we might go down together, just as she wanted all these years.

  And with this, I would be one hundred percent sure she won’t bother the people I love anymore.

  “How could you have chosen him after everything he has done? He is just like Daddy!”

  Deciding to use this opportunity to get all my answers before I die, I ask, “How is he like your dad? Your father abused you for years, Lydia. None of the men whose lives you have affected did that.”

  Her bitter laughter envelops the space, sending shivers down my spine, but I keep my gaze on the road, making sure not to miss the deadly crossroad. Rolling down the window at my side, I welcome the cold sinking into my bones and allowing me to stay grounded in the present and not let the panic hold me in its clutches.

  Where there is panic and fear, rational thinking dies.

  “They treated them the same when no one saw. I know it, because all of them said the same phrase Daddy did right before he hurt me.” My heart pangs painfully thinking about the scared and lost little girl who was kidnapped from her loving home and lived with an abuser, constantly scared for her next breath. Her father—although I prefer to call him a piece of shit—used her in his twisted game to hurt the wife and took all his anger out on his daughter.

  I want to go back in time and find the little girl, save her from the nightmare, and hug her close, whispering “everything will be all right.”

  But I can never excuse what current, grown-up Lydia is doing.

  “What did they say?” I come back to the conversation at hand, needing to keep her attention elsewhere so she won’t notice the change of direction I’m about to do.

  “Mom tells everyone when they found me that I didn’t remember anything. You want to know a secret? I remembered everything! All he did, all he said, how we lived. But I didn’t share any of it. You know why? Because Mommy cried so much I was afraid she was gonna leave me if she knew the truth. No one wants a dirty girl.”

  Oh, God, is this what her father said to her many times? Convincing the child to keep her mouth shut?

  She elaborates. “Anthony and Mom never said a word about it. Maybe if they did, I wouldn’t have had to keep my mouth shut.”

  That fucking piece of shit. I might agree with Lydia on one thing. How he died was not punishment enough for the crimes he committed.

  I see the crossroads and swiftly go to the right, where strangely the road is fine, although a bit bumpy, but I do notice the red stop sign.

  Now, there is no going back, and only death waits for me here.

  Lydia, though, continues to follow me as if she’s in a trance, and I think in a way she is. I bet I’m the first person with whom she has ever shared all of this. “Then they sent me to boarding school, where all the popular kids picked on me. I wasn’t smart enough. Not like them. Their constant laughter still rings in my ears.” All of this doesn’t add up in my head. Why would Olivia send her child to such a school after what happened to her? “Mommy thought it would be easier for me to be around my peers after being deprived of it for so long.” She sighs. “She tried, poor her. She didn’t know how cruel this world might be.”

  She should have gotten her daughter to therapy and not hide her head in the sand, thinking all was good simply because she believed the child didn’t remember.

  Maybe then, none of this would have happened. “Once I came back, it wasn’t better, only worse with everyone catering to Zachary’s needs as always.”

  “What kind of phrases did they all say?” I decide to pull this information out of her, because that’s what triggered her. She withstood demons as long as she could without outside help, but the words they might’ve spoken awoke all the fears, and with this desire to kill inside her, they brought her back to that hopeless girl who couldn’t do anything.

  So, she made sure to free all those women from their fate.

  She stays silent for a few beats before, replying, “Sweetheart, you look so happy tonight. Want to tell me why?” Such a common phrase that could have been said by anyone. For Lydia though, it was like an arrow straight to the bubble she has created around her psyche. “He would put me in the cage in his basement after asking that and starve me for a week so I wouldn’t look happy.” She sobs a little. “So when you— What have you done?” she screams again, probably catching on to the change of road. “You pretended to listen to me but deceived me again?” Disbelief along with hurt laces her tone. “You want to die so much, Phoenix? How about we raise the stakes then?” And with this, she drives so fast her bumper hits the back of my car, and I bump my head a little, seeing in the mirror how close she is to me. “You think if you die now, I won’t go after Zachary? Stop the car or I’ll make you.” She bumps into me again, and with this, I realize to get her into my trap, I’ll have to drive as fast as possible.

  A heavy breath echoes in the car as my hands wrap around the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white from the pressure as I steer the car to the side and take a hard turn, barely saving it from scraping the side on the guard rails.

  Moving the sporty beast back onto the dark highway brightened only by my headlights, I press on the pedal hard as I drive much too fast, the wind slapping me in the face and blowing my hair in different directions. I don’t pay attention to the cold weather around me or how sweaty my palms have become on the wheel; I just grip it harder, even if it’s impossible. My heart beats so wildly against my ribs I’m afraid it might break them.

  The endless road with no signs of life around greets me. The sky booms from the thunder following a flash of lightning accompanying the soon-to-arrive storm. The ocean waves crashing against the rocks can be heard in the distance below us, alertin
g anyone around them about the danger lurking on the edges of this storm.

  No wonder we got a message earlier not to leave the house or, God forbid, go out in fishing boats. Some people said it might be suicide.

  Intermittent sounds pop from the radio as it shifts among different stations, allowing me to hear only bits of conversations before it starts blasting annoying music that reminds me of horror movies.

  Lydia wants to darken the mood.

  Sinister laughter follows it, filling the car with dread and doom. My breathing stops for a moment, fear rushing through my veins, and my foot lifts from the pedal.

  Gasping, I shake my head and block away everything but the desire to succeed, resuming the pressure on the pedal while everything around me moves in a blur, and glancing at the speedometer, I see it’s already above one hundred twenty.

  I just have to hold on for a little longer. The GPS shows me I’m three minutes away from my destination.

  There is another sharp turn, and I twist the steering wheel hard, the tires screeching against the concrete, and this time my car door bumps against the guard rails, but I still the cry of pain inside me.

  Instead, I drive even faster, as far away as possible, so the car chasing me won’t catch me.

  Under no circumstances can I slow down and allow this to happen, because it will bring destruction no one deserves.

  It started with me, and it should end with me.

  Even though she still hasn’t explained how I’m connected to this, but I don’t want to know either.

  The laughter continues to echo inside the vehicle, but then the voice starts to hum to the song, chanting words that aren’t in the lyrics. “More. More. More.” Repeating the same phrase over and over again, driving me insane. I want to shout at her to shut up, but it’s a luxury I can’t afford.

  If life has taught me anything in the last several years, it’s to never expect anything human from a devil.