I nodded my head, but a feeling of dread curled around my stomach. I hated being without Teddy.
"So good, ma bonne petite fille. You make me so proud." The second voice dripped like honey, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him. But I knew there would be nothing there.
Only I heard them…
In fact, it creeped maman, my mother out so much that she sold me to Père and his sons when I was five just to get away from the 'demon child'.
I told everyone that he was my step-daddy… it sounded much nicer than what he actually was…
Plus, he would beat me if I didn't call him Daddy.
"Are you ready?" whispered the first voice. He never told me his name; he said that he was just happy being number one in my books. "You are going to have to be brave here. You are going to have to do something you might not want to do. But you are my pride and joy, mon ange. I know you will make me proud."
I nodded my head, and my curly, light blue hair fell into my face as I looked down. Voice One always made me feel warm and there was nothing I hated more than to disappoint him. I would rather take a beating for disappointing my step-daddy than hear anything but pride in Voice One's tone.
"Little Bit is perfect," sneered the second voice as he spoke to the other demon in the darkness. There was a long pause before he continued. "Because she is mine and mine alone."
"You might want to learn how to share, brother," grunted the first voice.
"You and I both know that is impossible," smirked the second. "But we will deal with that later. Her father is sitting in his chair in the living room. She needs to move fast if she is going to accomplish what we need her to."
"It bothers me when you are right," sighed the first voice.
I bit my tongue to keep from giggling as I slowly opened the door to my hidey hole. I had made sure that the hinges were greased up well enough that they were silent as I forced them to move. Voice one and two always knew how to make me smile.
I knew that they were brothers just by the way they always bickered at each other.
"Listen to me, mon ange," whispered the first one as I straightened up. Muscles protested my movements, and I felt a twinge in my back as a couple of bones popped into place. "It is going to be dark. I'll tell you exactly where you need to go. Trust me, mon ange, I will lead you true."
"She's blind, ass-wipe," grunted the second voice, and I could hear him rolling his eyes in frustration. "Everything is dark to her."
Voice One grunted but didn't say anything.
Yes, I was completely blind. I had been since my second day in this house when my step-daddy beat me for asking where my maman was. I wasn't sure how he managed to do it, but I guess he knocked something loose.
And I never asked where maman was again.
But the darkness suited me just fine. I didn't need to see the horrors in the world to know that they were there. I lived them every day.
On silent feet, I walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, automatically avoiding the creaky floors that were bound to give away my position. I knew this house inside and out. After all, I had never left it since the day I was brought here.
It was 35 steps from my hole to the entrance of the living room. From there, I turned slightly left and walked another seven steps until I was standing beside Père's chair.
However, I really didn't have to count my steps. The wheezing sound coming from Père was enough to let me know exactly where I was… and where I needed to be.
Gripping the knife behind my back, I opened my mouth. "I am here, Père." My voice was soft and childish as I spoke to the man. He preferred me to sound innocent, even when I was anything but.
"What took ya so long?" he grunted, reaching out to grab my arm. His fingers dug into my flesh, and I knew his nails would make four crescent moon marks. Unfortunately for me, he was also gripping one of my new wounds.
The staples dug into my tender arm, and blood started to trickle out of the wound.
Counting each drip as it hit the floor, I was mesmerized by the sound until Père shook me hard enough to bring me back. "I was outside," I grunted, my voice weak and helpless. I allowed a small bit of pain to bleed into my words like my blood bled into the floor.
This spot had drank up a lot of my blood.
"You know yous aren't allowed outside, girlie," grunted Père. With a harsh yank, I was pulled onto his lap, his hard member pressing up between my soft thighs.
I forced myself not to squirm, not to show any reaction. Anything I did right now would just make things worse.
"The electric washing machine wasn't working. I had to go down to the creek in order to wash the clothes," I whimpered, my eyes staring blankly in front of me.
"Yous a lyin'," grunted Père, his hot breath panting across my cheek as he jackknifed enough for his chest to be pressing against mine. "Yous don't be smelling like the outside."
"You're right, Daddy," I said quickly, my head nodding up and down. "I wasn't outside."
I struck quickly like a gator attacking his prey.
Raising my arm, I plunged my knife into his back, unerringly finding his heart with my first strike.
Damnit. I wanted to make it last longer. I wanted to see the life draining from his face. And I wanted to keep him alive until I could.
A cold smirk appeared on my face as I felt the knife in my hand slip, thanks to the hot blood that was now on it.
"That's ma bonne petite fille," grunted the second voice, and I preened at being called his good little girl. I craved that more than I craved my next breath. "You have killed the useless tit of a man. Now, you have a decision to make."