Free The Wicked Garden by Lenora Henson Page B

behind her back.
    He’s oot his face!
    Keep the heid! Keep the heid!
    Kill him! the Woman in Wool screeched.
    “Nobody else is going to love you like me, Gretch. Nobody else is going to be able to look at your disgusting body, your burns and your scars. I’m the best you’re ever going to get, so let’s just go to bed and pretend nothing ever happened.” His voice was hot in her ear, and she could smell the Scotch on his breath. He would never change. Had she ever really believed that he would change?
    Gretchel shifted her hips to the left, and used all the strength she had to drive her free right fist backward into Troy’s testicles. His grasp on her arm weakened, Gretchel flung his arm away and reached for the shotgun.
    Troy, curled up on the floor, raised his hands in defeat. “Gretch, I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I can’t lose you. I’d do anything for you. You know I would. You can’t leave me. I’ll break it off with Michelle, I’ll find another job, we can move, whatever you—”
    She leveled the gun to his chest. “I want the tape, Troy.”
    “It’s gone!”
    “Bullshit. Where is it?”
    “I swear to you, it’s gone.”
    “You’re lying. Where’s the tape, Troy?”
    “I destroyed it. I did it for you! I love you. I’ve always loved you. We can fix this. Just put down the gun.”
    Gretchel drew back the hammer.
    Kill him! The Woman in Wool screamed again. Kill him!
    Gretchel stared at her husband over the barrel of the shotgun. “All right, Troy. I believe you.”
    He sagged with relief.
    “But there’s still something I want from you, Troy. Can you do something for me, Troy?”
    “Anything, Gretchel. Anything!”
    “ I want you to get that goddamn trash bag out of the goddamn tree. That’s what I want from you, Troy.”
    Gretchel left her husband cringing at the bottom of the stairs.
     
    She knocked on Ame’s door, and waited for her daughter to let her in. She tucked the covers around her daughter, and, after giving Ame a kiss on the forehead, Gretchel settled herself into the rocking chair facing the door, the shotgun across her knees.
    It was several hours before Gretchel let herself fall asleep, but, when she did, she slipped into a dream almost immediately. She was in a clearing. She was cradled in warm water. Women danced around her, chanting in low voices. She felt the gun in her hands, and shot the first man she saw.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Irvine, 2010s
    Gretchel woke to the sound of a shotgun being fired.
    When she opened her eyes, she saw her daughter’s room. She saw her daughter, asleep in her bed. The gunshot had been in her dreams. Gretchel shuddered, remembering the events of the night before.
    Ame stirred and turned to Gretchel.
    “Happy New Year’s, Mom. You were screaming in your sleep. Nightmare?”
    “Yeah, I guess it was a nightmare. How are you?”
    “I feel a little sore. Did I get my ass kicked last night?” Gretchel couldn’t suppress a wry smile. Only Ame could be this diabolically sarcastic. “Really, Mom, I think that this could be a good year for us, but only if we make a move. Holly had a premonition. She saw a funeral. We need to get out of here before dad kills one of us—or you kill him.”
    “Your grand mama told me about Holly’s vision. She thinks that it’s Miss Poni who’s about to die. But, look, Ame, Holly’s visions are never clear. There’s no need to panic.”
    “No need to panic? You were here last night, weren’t you?”
    Gretchel heard the tears in her daughter’s voice. She rose from the rocking chair and put her arms around her girl.
    As she held Ame, Gretchel looked out the window. There was movement in the front yard. She saw Troy climbing a ladder, while Zach and Ben held it steady at the bottom.
    Ame followed her mother’s gaze. “Look at him. He’s trying to get that stupid trash bag out of the tree,” she said with a mirthless laugh.
    “I asked him to get it down,” Gretchel said, wondering why she had been so