behind. Hank was speaking from a personal level, but he didn't know how true his words actually were.
"We're going to take you to the Sub-Mariner tonight, to get you used to what you'll see tomorrow," Hank's voice—and his grip on my jaw—softened. "I've already talked with Dale Saylor and he knows the score. He says he'll help in any way he can."
"Hank," I shivered, even sitting in hot, bubbling water.
"Bree, we don't need you to freak tomorrow. We need to find John's killers." I blinked into his dark eyes while my stomach tied itself in knots and threatened to dislodge breakfast.
"I feel sick," I pulled away from Hank's hand.
"No, sweetheart," Bill stood and waded toward me. "Opal and I are coming with Hank and Jayson tonight, so you'll have plenty of friends and support around you."
"Opal?" I turned to her. I needed support and a lifeline. I didn't want to see what I was likely to see—it terrified me in ways I couldn't begin to describe.
"Bree, I swear we'll punch anybody who upsets you," Opal said. "If I understand correctly, people go to these places to have a good time. They're having a good time, okay?"
"No," I moaned, closing my eyes and moving away from Hank. I was feeling sicker by the minute, until I was forced to fold to my bathroom. I think I lost everything I'd eaten in the last three days.
* * *
"Here, now," Jayson washed my face while Hank held me and Bill fretted nearby. They'd found me dry heaving into the toilet.
"We'll take care of you," Hank murmured against my ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Say that when your past is the same as mine , I snapped mentally. Nothing to be afraid of? Most people don't know when to be afraid .
"That's very true, they don't," Hank soothed. "We have to get you past some of this, so you'll be prepared instead of curling into a ball and shaking if you come across it in the outside world."
"That's frightening," I mumbled.
"Bree, things happen all the time. What if you ended up in a place where somebody needed your help, and they were being beaten? What would you do? Can you predict your actions, or could it go either way?"
"I can't predict my actions," I admitted reluctantly and lowered my eyes. "Either I'd freak and go catatonic, as you so kindly describe it, or freak in the other direction and make the person doing the beating dead—slowly, most likely—by cutting him into one-inch strips. While he screamed."
"Baby, quick death. Always give a quick death. It's merciful, and makes you stronger and better than the one you killed," Hank whispered.
"I pretty much have so far." I stared at my hands. The Sirenali I'd killed on Bexari, well, I'd removed limbs, but there'd been no other option unless I wanted to kill innocents. The moment he removed his obsessions, he'd died painlessly.
"But you didn't witness abuse when you killed. Did you?" Bill knelt in front of me and took my face in his hands. Jayson moved aside to give Bill more room.
"No. You're right, I'd probably freak."
"So we'll expose you to what you think of as abuse, even though it's not, in a controlled environment," Hank said. "We'll be around you, and we'll take care of you and get you used to this. You need your mind in good working order if you're faced with something like this someday, and it'll make me feel better if I can help you get through this without breaking down."
"I don't want to," I whined.
"Sweetheart," Bill stood and lifted me to my feet. "You don't know what you'll see, and let's face it, if Oscar Forde is involved with this new club in town, you may see things you didn't expect. Isn't that right?" My face was in his hands again, and brown eyes gazed steadily into mine.
"Yeah." My voice wobbled, and that embarrassed me. Were they right? That if I didn't do something about it, I could fold up like a wet cardboard box if I came across something that disturbed me? That could get me killed. Even worse—I could completely lose control and go berserk. I didn't want to
"We're going to take you to the Sub-Mariner tonight, to get you used to what you'll see tomorrow," Hank's voice—and his grip on my jaw—softened. "I've already talked with Dale Saylor and he knows the score. He says he'll help in any way he can."
"Hank," I shivered, even sitting in hot, bubbling water.
"Bree, we don't need you to freak tomorrow. We need to find John's killers." I blinked into his dark eyes while my stomach tied itself in knots and threatened to dislodge breakfast.
"I feel sick," I pulled away from Hank's hand.
"No, sweetheart," Bill stood and waded toward me. "Opal and I are coming with Hank and Jayson tonight, so you'll have plenty of friends and support around you."
"Opal?" I turned to her. I needed support and a lifeline. I didn't want to see what I was likely to see—it terrified me in ways I couldn't begin to describe.
"Bree, I swear we'll punch anybody who upsets you," Opal said. "If I understand correctly, people go to these places to have a good time. They're having a good time, okay?"
"No," I moaned, closing my eyes and moving away from Hank. I was feeling sicker by the minute, until I was forced to fold to my bathroom. I think I lost everything I'd eaten in the last three days.
* * *
"Here, now," Jayson washed my face while Hank held me and Bill fretted nearby. They'd found me dry heaving into the toilet.
"We'll take care of you," Hank murmured against my ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Say that when your past is the same as mine , I snapped mentally. Nothing to be afraid of? Most people don't know when to be afraid .
"That's very true, they don't," Hank soothed. "We have to get you past some of this, so you'll be prepared instead of curling into a ball and shaking if you come across it in the outside world."
"That's frightening," I mumbled.
"Bree, things happen all the time. What if you ended up in a place where somebody needed your help, and they were being beaten? What would you do? Can you predict your actions, or could it go either way?"
"I can't predict my actions," I admitted reluctantly and lowered my eyes. "Either I'd freak and go catatonic, as you so kindly describe it, or freak in the other direction and make the person doing the beating dead—slowly, most likely—by cutting him into one-inch strips. While he screamed."
"Baby, quick death. Always give a quick death. It's merciful, and makes you stronger and better than the one you killed," Hank whispered.
"I pretty much have so far." I stared at my hands. The Sirenali I'd killed on Bexari, well, I'd removed limbs, but there'd been no other option unless I wanted to kill innocents. The moment he removed his obsessions, he'd died painlessly.
"But you didn't witness abuse when you killed. Did you?" Bill knelt in front of me and took my face in his hands. Jayson moved aside to give Bill more room.
"No. You're right, I'd probably freak."
"So we'll expose you to what you think of as abuse, even though it's not, in a controlled environment," Hank said. "We'll be around you, and we'll take care of you and get you used to this. You need your mind in good working order if you're faced with something like this someday, and it'll make me feel better if I can help you get through this without breaking down."
"I don't want to," I whined.
"Sweetheart," Bill stood and lifted me to my feet. "You don't know what you'll see, and let's face it, if Oscar Forde is involved with this new club in town, you may see things you didn't expect. Isn't that right?" My face was in his hands again, and brown eyes gazed steadily into mine.
"Yeah." My voice wobbled, and that embarrassed me. Were they right? That if I didn't do something about it, I could fold up like a wet cardboard box if I came across something that disturbed me? That could get me killed. Even worse—I could completely lose control and go berserk. I didn't want to
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