I AWOKE WHEN I HEARD Raney go outside the next day. Soon I heard the Blazer pulling out of the drive. I rubbed my skin wherever I could stand it, trying to warm up. I sat up and moved my arms. I was still sore here and there from my fistfight with Raney, but I wasn’t really any worse off than I had been before. I checked the bottom of my left foot, and found it was not as tender as I was afraid it might be. I knew I would be able to put my weight on it when I had to. Would I be able to do whatever else I had to do? Yes, I told myself.
With Raney gone, I had no doubt that Devon would take his chances with me. I heard him pacing around nervously and felt my own tension rising. The sooner he came in, the better. I wanted it over with. Before long, either I would escape the cabin, or I would have cheated them of doing me further injury.
But his fear of the Goat was stronger than I thought. Devon paced and paced, as if he were as caged as I. Just as I was beginning to lose hope of a chance to try my plan, I heard the bolt slide.
Somehow, as he stood there, looking at me, my courage fled. He was much more physically powerful than I; even if I had not been beaten, even if I had more sleep and more to eat, he would still have been able to overpower me. A smile crossed his face.
“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer, but drew deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This is your chance, I thought.
He closed the door behind him. I pulled the blanket up.
He grinned. “Yeah, I can see you are.” He moved closer, and I felt myself tense. Survive.
He stood over me and stared at me. “Were you cold last night?”
I found some part of myself rebelling against my plan. My plan was to kill him, as surely as their plan was to do the same to me. But I was not practiced in it, and they were. Devon had kept me from Raney’s excesses. Devon had held me and helped me rinse my mouth when I was sick. Devon had brought me a blanket so that I wouldn’t be so cold.
Stop it! I told myself. Devon brought you here, kicked you, held you so that you could be beaten, whipped you with a hose, took part in the murders of two people and will make yours the third. Survive.
He was watching my emotions play on my face, though I had tried to hide them. He seemed wary for a moment, then grinned again.
Suddenly he reached down and pulled the blanket from me, tossing it aside. I shivered, not entirely from the cold. He dropped down on the mattress, straddling me. To my dismay, he grabbed both of my wrists, pinning them near my shoulders. Keep your head! I told myself.
He leaned down and kissed me. My lips hurt as it was, but my revulsion was stronger than my pain. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.
“I’m going to have you, Irene. I know you don’t think you’ll like it, but you will. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”
“Help me get away from here,” I tried again.
He laughed. “I told you. I can’t.”
“You can. Please, Devon. Things will be better for you if you do. We can be together.”
He laughed and let loose of my left wrist and hit me hard on the side of my head. I hadn’t expected the blow, and it jarred me.
“You must think I’m a real moron. That’s too bad. I know you’re that cop’s woman. You go ahead and think about that cop when I do it to you, Irene. I don’t care. I just want to have you.”
“He hasn’t done much for me lately, has he? He’s useless.” Forgive me, Frank, I thought. I needed Devon to be off-guard. “But you’ve been kind to me. I’ve lain here thinking about you.”
“Liar,” he said. He reached down and grabbed my blouse, ripping it down the middle. He used the same hand to unfasten my bra.
I had to get control of my fear. I had to. I took deep breaths again. He mistook the meaning of those deep breaths, and I gained my first advantage.
“Goddamn, you are excited, aren’t you?”
I reached up with my left hand and caressed his neck.
He smiled. He let loose of my right hand, and placed his hands on my breasts. It made my skin crawl, but I willed my face into a smile, or as much of one as I could manage through my puffy lips. I reached down and took hold of the shard, moaning to distract him as I pulled it loose. With his arms as they were, I would not be able to do it.
“Please, Devon,” I said, and he had no idea what I was really begging for. I ran my left hand along his chest and up on to his shoulder, then to his neck.
“Get ready, baby,” he said. I was.
He moved his hands down to my waist, and fumbled with the snap as he leaned over me. Now, I thought, now.
With all my strength, I drove the shard into his throat, thrusting it in with my right hand as I pulled his neck down with my left. I stabbed into the place my left thumb had found only moments before, the artery near his windpipe.
The shock on his face was complete. By the time he reached up to grab his neck, he had lost too much blood to remain conscious. He fell forward onto me, the life spilling out of him.
I HAD KILLED A MAN.