Bane of the Bears by Helena Novak

Author:Helena Novak [Novak, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2021-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

Blood runs thick, in the families and in the streets.

You want to be part of the former.

That’s what I tell myself as I break in through the sliding glass door and sneak up the stairs of Orsa Jelani’s home. I’ve given her ample time to come around, to come up with a plan to make me go away, and day in and day out she ignores my existence.

Not anymore.

I want this to be over. I want my family back, I want my wife in my arms, no matter how I need to package it.

Orsa doesn’t want to cooperate. She wants a war, so she’s got one.

This ends now.

Lilac curtains hang heavy under the accelerant, the plethora of stuffed animals staring at me with sad, doused eyes. The child’s room has been painted with care, each hand drawn flower and heart given an abundance of time and love.

Shocking, really, this sort of emotion lives in Orsa’s home. Beren must have been in charge of decorating.

Little girl in question is securely tucked under her purple covers, hugging the only plush toy I haven’t soaked through with gas. Her curls are wild, not combed or tucked in a cap or anything, and I cringe at the idea of working through it in the morning.

She won’t have that problem, though.

The pillowcase cuts into my knuckles, my hands shaking as I spur myself on. It would be kinder this way, take her out while she sleeps. The mere thought of dropping a canister on her churns my stomach. It would be better to smother her, to only feel her twitch and die quietly rather than listen to her screaming for help off her balcony.

Fuck my life, I didn’t think this through. I knew damn well what waited for me here. I’ve known for a year now the time would come I had to terminate both of them. Orsa never came home, leaving her husband to panic and rush to his friend’s house to get the girls.

I don’t know what Orsa is up to, and to be frank I don’t care.

All I know is if I kill her husband, I have to kill her daughter, too.

She’ll never surrender otherwise. She’ll never back down, she’ll never bow her head and obey me. She’ll ruin my life, groom her daughter into a monster and destroy me, destroy everything I’ve tried to milk out of this hellish situation.

I don’t have a choice.

But Ursula mewls in her sleep, pulling her toy closer to her mouth and burying her face in the pink fuzzy plush. The smell of the gas must be getting to her, if her soft whining is anything to go by.

I drop the pillow at my feet and catch my breath, locking my fingers behind my head and staring at the wall. I left everything for this. My morals, my sanity, my family. My own children, asleep like she is now, only to wake up and wonder where Daddy ran off to.

But she’s not my kid. She's not either of the sons I left shaking on the couch with their mother.

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