Chapter 31

"How have the headaches been?" Dr. Armani asks, steepling his fingers as he peers through his square-rimmed glasses at me. Having salt and pepper hair, kind blue eyes, and a slim body, Dr. Armani has always reminded me of my grandfather. It's why I immediately felt comfortable with him when I started seeing him years ago.

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "About the same."

"Hmm…" He tips his chin down. "No difference since you found out about Athena, Scarlett, and Presley?"

"Not really."

It's my first time seeing Dr. Armani since Hunter told me about the three people I share my mind with. He was surprised when I told him I knew about the other identities, but I also saw approval. Perhaps he thought I wouldn't be calm knowing about them. Honestly, I'm surprised myself. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and for me to go into a meltdown. I know I'm toeing the edge of sanity. One slight shift in the wind could blow me off, leaving me spiraling into something unrecognizable.

"That's good." He nods again and smiles. His eyes briefly flick to Hunter before returning to me. Hunter doesn't always join me for sessions, but I asked him to this time. "And the nightmares?"

I hate talking about my nightmares. The horrible sounds they leave in my head are sounds I want to forget.

"Any changes?"

I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling like I'm sitting on jagged rocks. Hunter's hand, with his thick fingers laced through my slender ones, twitch and tighten in mine.

"My last nightmare was different. I remember more," I say, my voice small.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "No."

I haven't even told Hunter about my most recent nightmare. I keep hoping that if I don't talk about it, it'll fade and become another forgotten memory.

"That's okay. We're here when you're ready."

I nod, grateful he doesn't push.

"Is there anything else either of you would like to discuss before we call it a day?"

"No," I respond. Even though Dr. Armani makes me feel relaxed and comfortable, I'm tired after not getting much sleep last night, so I'm ready to leave. Thankfully, my hour is almost over.

"Okay. I'll see you next month, Cat. Should you need anything before then, you only have to call the office."

Hunter and I get up from the couch. "Thank you, Dr. Armani."

"Always a pleasure, my dear."

We leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we walk out into the fresh air.

Hunter pulls on my arm, turning me toward him. My hand is placed on the firm muscle over his heart as he observes me with his green eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." I smile. "I was just getting a little twitchy in there, but I'm okay now."

Using his other hand, he tips my chin up and drops his head, laying his lips softly against mine.

"Hunter? Cat?"

We both look over when our names are called. I smile when I see Jimmy Simons approaching. Hunter tucks me under his arm as we face him.

"How are you, Jimmy?" I ask.

"Never better." He grins.

Every time I see Jimmy, he always has a smile on his face. Being a marine for ten years, injured, discharged from the military because of the injury, having no family, and ending up on the streets, you'd think he'd be more bitter and not the happy man he is today. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but apparently, a few years ago, Hunter helped him get back on his feet.

"That's great." I say with a big grin. "It's been too long since I've seen you. Why don't you come over for dinner soon? "

"Wouldn't miss it." He gives me a sly grin. "So long as you make your delicious apple turnovers."

I can't help but laugh. Last time we had Jimmy over for dinner, I thought he would fight Hunter for the last apple turnover. "You got it. I'll even make an extra for you to take home."

He raises his hand to his chest. "A woman after my own heart." He flashes his teeth at Hunter. "I tell you, Hunter, if she weren't so attached to you, I'd try to steal her away."

Hunter laughs, his arm around my waist flexing, pulling me closer. "Get your own woman."

One cheek pokes out more than the other when he smirks. "I'm working on it."

"Now that sounds interesting," I say, laying my hand on Hunter's lower stomach. "Do tell."

"Maybe over dinner. Don't want to jinx it." He winks. "I'll let you two get going." He holds out his hand for Hunter to shake. "Call me about that dinner invite, Hunter."

"See you later, Jimmy."

Jimmy walks in the opposite direction from us. I stay tucked into Hunter's side as we make our way to his SUV. Fatigue from a restless night leaves my limbs sluggish, so I'm grateful for the added support.

Soon after, we pull into our driveway beside my car. The sun has already set and the temperature has dropped several degrees. A chilled shiver races down my spine as we walk up the steps to the front door.

My phone pings in my purse, so I pull it out while Hunter unlocks the door. It's a text from my sister telling me she'll drop off her boys at two in the afternoon on Friday. I'm babysitting the rugrats for her while she goes to a doctor's appointment.

While I type my reply, I follow Hunter into the house, barely registering the beep of the alarm as he disarms and resets it.

A harsh curse pulls my attention away from my phone. At first, I'm confused as to why Hunter is standing so stiffly in front of me. But then I notice the pictures on the walls. Pictures I've never seen before. Or rather, pictures I haven't seen in years and pretend they don't exist.

Except, these pictures aren't the same. They've been altered.

I walk to the one closest to me. Hunter tries to stop me, but I shake off his hand. It's a big picture, set in an elegant gray frame. Hunter and I are sitting on a bench in what appears to be a public park. One of his arms is wrapped around my shoulders. My eyes well up with tears when I see his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of a young girl. My gaze moves to my lap, where I'm holding a baby boy. I don't need to guess the kids' ages or names. Ryder was just over a year old when this was taken, and Eliana was eleven.

In the distance, Hunter yells my name, but I'm too absorbed in the picture. A low buzz starts, ramping up in volume in my ears, as I take in what was done to the faces of the two beautiful children. My beautiful children.

Their faces have been gouged out, and red marks replace them.

A sob forces its way up my throat and through my dry lips.

As I move to the next picture, I feel Hunter's presence just behind me.

This picture is of me in the hospital right after I delivered Ryder. Hunter lies squished up on the bed beside me, half of his body hanging off the side. In my arms is a newborn Ryder, wrapped in a blue checkered baby blanket. What's supposed to be his little scrunched up face is scratched out with red.

Another low cry creeps past my lips.

My feet lead me to another picture frame. In this one, which has always been one of my favorites, Hunter is reclining back against a big tree. I'm sitting between his legs, and Eliana is between mine. Ryder is between hers. Ryder just turned two and Eliana was twelve. Once again, their faces are marked with red.

As I look around, every picture appears to be the same.

Something sharp pierces the center of my chest, stealing all of my breath. I try to suck in air, but it's like my lungs are clogged with sludge. Black spots dance across the edges of my vision, and my legs wobble, threatening to collapse. I teeter forward, my arms too weak to lift and catch myself so I don't hit the wall.

One second I'm standing there, suffocating from the pain that fills every inch of my body, and the next, I'm falling into a void of darkness. Screams, loud and excruciating, reverberate inside my head. I try to block them out because I know what they are, but no matter how much I attempt to shove them behind the weak wall in my mind, they still tumble out, refusing to be silenced any longer.

Visions follow the screams. Those visions lead to nightmares of a past that I wish I could banish forever, but I can't. I can't keep pushing them away. Pushing them away doesn't make them disappear. They're still there, and will always be there, to torture and torment me.

My two beautiful children don't deserve to be forgotten. If they are forgotten, it means that they never existed, and every moment spent with them should be cherished. I love Eliana and Ryder with all my heart and soul. They were my precious treasures, my angels. For years, I kept their memories locked away in my mind, because of the pain of losing them. The pain of not being able to save them, not being strong enough, not giving the bastards who took them from me what they wanted, was too much to bear.

No more.

There'll always be guilt over what I couldn't do, but my babies won't be hidden away any longer.

"Don't do it, Cat," a voice says in my head. Athena. "It hurts too much to remember. Once you let them out, they won't be pushed away again."

Loud banging rattles the inside of my skull. I feel her presence trying to break free. Athena tries to protect me from the pain when she knows I'm no longer able to handle it.

"NO!" I mentally shout, refusing to let her steer me away from what I must do. She shoves harder, and I almost give in. Only my determination and sheer willpower allow me to keep her at bay. "My babies will not be silenced. They're mine, Athena."

"With the good, always comes the bad. Are you willing to remember them as you saw them last?" she asks, her voice becoming weaker. "Can you really live with those memories, with that pain, or will it consume you so completely, you'll do anything to make it go away? To end it permanently? Think of Hunter, Cat. Think of what it'll do to him, should your mind fracture beyond repair."

Her question makes me pause. As painful as those memories were the last time I was with my children, I will endure them again if it means I can have all their good memories.

"Yes," I whisper back to her. "I'm strong enough. I can do it."

Athena retreats, but I still sense her presence. She's not gone forever, just for the time being.

I open my mind, preparing myself for the paralyzing pain I know is coming, but before I can fully open myself, another stronger presence makes itself known.

"With pain comes more pain. Let them in, and know you'll have the harsh hands of your husband when punishment becomes your only escape. Know that he'll always give you what you need, even when that means making you bleed."

A wail slides past my lips with Scarlett's statement. Pain is her escape. She luxuriates in it and uses Hunter as a tool to seek it out. While I hate what she makes Hunter do to us, I also understand her. And we are an us. Scarlett is as much a part of me as Athena and Presley.

I won't let her stop me, any more than I will let Athena. I am stronger than them. This is my body, my mind, my soul. They may have access to them, but I won't let them control me anymore. They may slip through during my weaker moments, but right now, with what's most important, I'm the one making the decision.

Scarlett says no more, but stays in the background, her ominous presence residing by Athena's.

A new voice comes, this one so sweet and innocent, it brings tears to my eyes.

"It's time, Cat," Presley says gently. I feel the warmth of her touch on my hand. "Let them out. It's time to bring them back into the light."

A soft smile slowly lifts my lips.

It disappears when I open my eyes, and I'm standing in the corner of our living room. In front of me is a chair with the me of five years ago tied to it. I'm naked, every inch of my body covered in cuts, blood, and bruises, with tape covering my mouth.

It's like I'm there, back in that place. Time has not passed, and I'm reliving the event as though it were happening for the first time.

I try to move, to go to her, but I'm frozen in place, unable to move or make a sound.

The me in the chair tries to scream, but her throat is so raw from screaming so much that nothing comes out. As if drawn by a magnet, we both look across the room. My daughter, naked and bleeding, lies on her side on the floor. She's turned toward us, so I can clearly see her face. Blood slides from the side of her mouth and out of her nose. One of her eyes is black and swollen shut, and she has a cut above her eyebrow. Purple lines her neck from a bruising grip. Blood covers her thighs, and I know more bruises will be hidden beneath the bright red.

A deep grunt pierces the air, and I watch in horror as a masked boy gets up from the floor. Beneath him, my two-year-old toddler lays limply on the floor on his stomach, his limbs spread out from his bloody and abused body. The other two boys stand over him, having already found their sick pleasures and are fixing their clothes.

The past me gags, bile rising in her throat, and I remember swallowing it down because of the tape covering my mouth. If I allow it up, I'll choke on my own puke and die. I can't die. I have to find a way to save my children. I don't care about myself. They can cut me up into a thousand pieces, torture me, rape me for hours, so long as my babies live.

Even though I know what's going to happen next, I'm still not prepared.

A fourth person, bigger than the boys, enters the room wearing a crisp black business suit. His mask differs from the others. There are no x's covering the eyes. Instead, a big white x cuts across the whole mask.

The man stands there with his hands casually shoved into his pockets. He glances from my daughter, lying on the floor, to my son, who's lying there motionless. The few whimpers slipping past his lips in his unconscious state are the only indication that he is still alive.

The man approaches, and I freeze in my seat. My eyes are nearly swollen shut and my whimpers are scratchy from crying so much and screaming so hard.

He walks behind me and puts his mouth at my ear. I shiver in revulsion. He lifts the mask and sinks his teeth so hard into my neck that he pierces the skin and blood trickles out. The scar from that bite stings. The little I can see of the guy's face is blurred since I never actually saw him.

"Seems like my boys had a little too much fun." I tremble as the voice and hot breath slides over my ear. Even though the words are said to the past me, the present me still hears them loud and clear, like he's behind me right now. "Looks like they've still got a little fight left in them though."

As if hearing his words, both of my kids stir, the pain in their bodies bringing them back to consciousness.

I begin to struggle against the ropes, not registering the blood dripping from my wrists from the ropes digging into my flesh. I cry behind the tape, my pleas muffled and unrecognizable.

A dark chuckle fills my head. Fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing so hard my vision becomes blurry. "I typically don't go for ones so young." I whimper when he runs his tongue up the column of my neck, hitting the wounds from his teeth, making them sting. "But they do look incredibly tempting."

Behind the tape, I let out a cry, horror thrashing through my body as I struggle against my bonds. My eyes fall on my two precious children, already used and beaten so severely that they're barely recognizable.

"But don't worry your cute little head, my dear Caterina." He says my full name like he knows me. "I like my toys to fight back and those two brats don't have enough left in them."

His hot breath leaves me, and after slipping the mask back in place, he comes around to the front of me. I don't have to see his face to know he's smiling a nasty and cruel smile. It's in his eyes. The twisted pleasure of what he's doing. I've never seen someone look so sinister and depraved.

"I'm feeling generous tonight and giving you a choice."

He walks to Eliana, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her to her feet. She's so weak she can barely stand on her own. She fights as hard as her body will allow, but it's no match for his strength. While he drags my poor beautiful daughter across the floor, I scream behind the tape. Nausea rises again when he stops with her facing me only a few feet away.

He grabs a fistful of her long, dark brown hair, then yanks her head back so I can see her battered face. "Your beautiful daughter." He shoves her head forward and she slumps to the floor. Another muffled cry leaves me.

My chest caves in on itself, and I worry I may choke to death because I can't take in enough air. My hands, bound by rope, are numb and my arms are sore and weak from pulling at the joints. But I still try. I try so hard to pull my hands free that I have no doubt the strands of the rope are sawing against bone and tendons.

The man walks to Ryder, grabs him by the arm, and carelessly drags him over to Eliana. My poor, sweet daughter, after having suffered so much, senses her little brother beside her and tries to wrap her arm around him. But she's so weak she can't even lift her arm. Instead, she scoots closer to him.

"Your innocent little boy," the man says, standing just beyond my children. "You get to choose which one lives and which one dies."

I can't comprehend what he's saying because the idea of it is so abhorrent. It's impossible. How can a mother, or any parent, make a choice like that? How can anyone choose one child's life over the other?

The answer comes immediately, and it's simple. I can't.

There's no way I can force myself to respond to this man, so I don't even consider what to say.

So, I sit there and die inside. Life drains out of me, seeping through my eyes as my tears flow. Flowing from my pores to the blood-stained floors. My soul withers and crumbles to dust, never to be revived again. My heart stutters, still beating, but sluggish. I know down to the very depths of me, if by some miracle Hunter's and my children survive this, they truly wouldn't survive. No person could. Even if their bodies healed, their minds never would.

His henchmen stand off to the edges of the room, silent and unmoving the entire time.

"What's it to be?" the man asks, his voice too casual for the situation, like he's asking me what I want for dinner, not what child I want to live and which one dies. He walks to me and rips the tape from my mouth. Skin comes off with it, leaving my lips stinging. "The boy or the girl?"

I shake my head, tears and snot slinging from my face.

His hands slide into the pockets of his slacks as he rocks back on his heels. "One dies, and one lives, Caterina. You're powerless in everything but this. Make your choice, or I'll make it for you, and I promise you'll live to regret it."

"Why?" I croak, barely getting the words out through my dry and swollen throat.

Behind the mask, his eyes light once again with sinister delight. "Because I can. Because I get immense fucking pleasure from it." His eyes narrow. "My patience is running thin. Your answer, now."

"I c-can't," I say, shaking my head again. "How c-can you," I hiccup on a sob, "expect me to make a decision like that? P-please, just let my babies go. Do w-whatever you want to m-me."

"That's not how this works. You see," he grips my jaw between two harsh fingers, shoving my chin up as he steps closer until he's standing between my tied legs and looming over me, "I want to witness the pain on your face as you give me a name. I want to watch your expression as I drain the life of something you love." His fingers squeeze painfully. "To see a part of you die along with them."

A great sob shutters my body. "P-please," I beg again. "I'll do anything you w-want."

What happens next will haunt me for the rest of my life and will follow me into death.

It happens fast, while I sit frozen in the chair. He spins on his heel and walks to one of the guys who's holding a knife. Then he goes over to my daughter, grabs a handful of her hair, and pulls back her head so far that her mouth is forced open. Her beautiful eyes, one swollen shut, the other filled with busted capillaries, meet mine. I scream and scream and scream, both the past me and the me stuck in the corner, as the man doesn't hesitate even a fraction of a second before he runs the knife across my daughter's throat. A river of red blood gushes from the wound.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, I watch as he untangles his fingers from her hair and she falls forward. My baby was dead before she hit the floor in her own pool of blood.

He moves to my son, and I know before it's even done, his fate is the same.

"NOOO!" I scream so loud and forcefully that my throat cramps, and I can feel the blood vessels in my eyes pop.

The man ignores my plea and wraps his big fingers through my son's baby soft, dark brown hair and yanks him up from the floor as if he weighs nothing.

I yell and screech and pull and tug on the ropes holding me to the chair, but no matter what I do, it's not enough.

As he holds up my son by his hair, the man looks at me, his eyes through the mask meeting mine. "You had your chance, Caterina. You fucked it up. I told you that you wouldn't like my choice."

He barely finishes his words before my youngest child is taken from me.

I don't remember much after that, and even as I watch from my corner as the scene plays out before me, it blurs and not much registers. I can't look away from the two bodies on the floor, their blood seeping into the wood.

Catatonic state.

That's what the doctors said I fell into after my children were murdered right in front of me. Over and over again, I prayed that it was all a nightmare, and I would wake up and find my babies alive and well. I stared at their still bodies, my mind fracturing.

I remember the sting of the first stab to my abdomen and the second to my chest. I was stabbed four more times, but I don't remember the rest.

I blink, and time seems to have passed because I'm no longer tied to the chair. I'm on my hands and knees, weakly crawling toward Eliana and Ryder, blood slick and sticky on the floor. They're lying right next to each other. When I reach Ryder, who is the closest to me, I curl up on my side, wishing death would take me to the same place where my kids are.

I lay with my arms wrapped around them both.