Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗

of the night, and the car was speeding away fast into the distance, Flo could still see the blaze. Inside her chest, her heart raced. She’d never felt so high.

Just like that, an entire community wiped out.

And it had felt all the more satisfying knowing that there was a good reason behind their grisly massacre.

Opposite her at the table of the RV sat Zach, who was also staring out into the darkness, gazing aimlessly at the rapidly passing tree boughs that lined the motorway. Unlike Flo, he looked far from pleased. In fact, the tight-lipped frown on his face suggested quite the opposite.

“What’s the matter with you?” Flo scoffed.

Ignoring her, Zach flashed her one quick, irritated glance before getting up from the table and stomping off down the other end of the RV, leaving the eight-year-old alone in the middle section. Dad was driving, Mum was upstairs tending to Stella’s wounds, and Flo had no doubt that Lloyd was likely doing something characteristically disgusting, such as taking a huge shit or wanking into a sock.

The child grumbled, unable to understand why her family was not feeling as elated as she was. They’d fucked those arseholes up. Destiny’s body floating pathetically at the top of the pond; Sambuca and Pat shot dead like a pair of helpless stags. The entire caravan park had gone up in flames, and every single one of the fuckers who’d attacked her sister had met a long, painful end. The edge of her lip curled upwards as she allowed herself to relive the adrenaline coursing through her forearms as she brought up the hilt of the knife and rammed it down into the flesh. Then again, and again. The skin and muscle getting softer and softer, easier and easier to penetrate with each stab. Flo licked her lips, reminiscing the taste of rusted blood on her skin. A shiver of delight crept down her spine.

On the table in front of her, she delicately lifted the small Tupperware box to eye level and inspected its contents. As a general rule, Mum and Dad discouraged keeping souvenirs of any kind from their crimes. But that night, the two of them had acted defeated. Weaker than usual.

They’d agreed to let her take a trophy or two.

Unable to contain herself, Flo peeled the lid up off of the box and let her fingertips caress the top of the soft, spongy entrails crammed inside the transparent plastic.

Like her mother, she was very interested in human anatomy, so had jumped at the chance to complete her very own mini autopsy. Of course, it had been quite rushed, and she hadn’t know where and how to cut properly. But still, the little girl was impressed with herself.

Smiling widely from ear to ear, she marvelled down at the section of glistening intestine in her box, as any other child might look at slime or play dough.

Chapter Forty-three

Spring, 2000

Bizarrely, upon waking up, Minnie felt the most comfortable that she had felt in months. It was dark, but it was warm. Smooth, clean-smelling blankets embraced her skin; beneath her, a soft mattress cushioned her perpetually aching skeleton. Her eyes opened to yet more darkness. She blinked, attempting to make sense of the gloom, before wriggling about inside her cosy cocoon. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t, as a sharp pain seared up her body from her crotch. Something squelched; thick dampness irritating her inner thighs. Heart thudding hard in her eardrums, the teenager pushed down the blanket from her body and froze.

Where the hard, rounded egg of her belly had been, there was now a deflated mound of jelly in its place.

Immediately, memories of giving birth in the kitchen flooded back to her. All at once, she felt as though some vital piece of her was missing. A stab of shame impaled her in the gut as she remembered how selfishly she had lost consciousness, leaving her defenceless child at the hands of some random pervert who wanted to solicit sex from a human trafficker.

“Shit…” she swallowed, scrambling out of bed just in time to vomit all over her bare feet. She retched and gagged as stringy bile fell from her lips, acid dripping from her nostrils as her body broke out in a cold, frightened sweat.

A door opened, and the room suddenly flooded with light.

Minnie’s head shot up, puke still glistening over her chapped lips as she stared with wide, terrified eyes at Adil, who was standing in the doorway of the room.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly before turning his eyes to the floor as if he were embarrassed.

She glanced down at her body, suddenly absurdly self-conscious. Both of her legs were streaked with frighteningly bright red blood; the loose-fitting cotton t-shirt she wore was also drenched. Her chest swelled. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to look up and see her mother staring back at her. She wanted to be carried away from there, cleaned up, fed, and put back to bed.

In her own bed, away from all the shit of the last year.

But she had no idea whether her mother even cared that she was gone. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it for so long, but now she wondered if they were still looking for her or if they’d never even bothered to begin with.

“Where’s my baby?” Minnie asked, biting back tears.

Adil frowned and took a deep breath. He stared down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly like a schoolboy caught out misbehaving.

“Adil?” she repeated, with more urgency, her voice gravelly.

He looked up at her then, with deep, intense brown eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh and a defeated shrug of the shoulders. “He…”

Before the doctor could finish his sentence, Minnie collapsed onto her knees and curled forwards, clutching at her saggy mid-section as grief spiralled through her core like a corkscrew ripping her innards. She let out a loud, animal-sounding moan of pain.

“Minnie…” she could hear Adil coming towards her, his feet quickly tapping on