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She had heard those exact same words before.
There’s just us.
She took a deep, shaky breath as they sunk into her. The last time she'd heard those words they had felt like a cage door closing.
But this time when they were spoken by Old Nick, it felt like everything was crashing down around her.
It lasted only a moment. The torture, the blood on her hands, her stolen childhood. “There’s just us,” Jimmy Crystal had said to her and her alone. And she had believed him, she had continued to believe him despite everything she had seen, everything she had witnessed, and every atrocity she had committed at his command.
But there was no us, there were only his lies, his violence, his sermons, and then eventually his taking in of other children to commit horrific acts that had once seemed impossible to her.
The crash.
Then another breath. Sturdier than the first, she looked to the sky. The weight she had always felt since she was eight, the one that had amplified when the young boy joined their group, the one that had been keeping her tied to Jimmy Crystal and his beliefs was…gone.
She let go. Of the breath. Of him.
No longer a cage door closing. A cage shattering wide open.
The weight.
“You put on a good show,” she says to the dying devil. No, not the devil. Not Old Nick. The boy said his name…Kelson. Just a man. Like Jimmy Crystal.
The Devil.
As she stared down at Kelson and the boy on the ground. The wound on the old man, delivered by a malicious, deceitful hand, bled profusely. He was unlikely to survive more than a couple of hours.
“Why didn’t you just let well leave? We were going. You would’ve been alright,” the boy cried, desperate and searching, similar to how she had once cried when she cared for other people besides herself.
“Suddenly, I saw it was you…behind the mask, Spike. And I...I think you’ve suffered enough,” said the old man.
No, not like Jimmy Crystal. Not at all.
Kelson saw this boy. Spike. Even behind the mask.
Like a father would recognize a son. She ached to be seen like that.
And Kelson knew what to do to save him. To try and save them all. Snake, Jones, Spike, and her. The only ones left under a controlling fist. A grip loosened by dwindling fingers. If only Snake and Jones would have listened to Kelson. To her. A merciful hand could have been dealt. They all could have walked away. Started anew.
When they turned on her and Spike, she didn’t hesitate. She always aimed for the heart. It wouldn’t be painless but she usually preferred to make it as quick as possible to limit the suffering.
Mercy.
“Old Nick or not, there’s still one last thing I can do for ya.” The sides of her mouth curl at the idea. The crucifixion.
Jimmy Crystal was right. She had been itching for this. For his death. His suffering. By her hand.
She would not be merciful. He had never shown her any, and thus he was not owed it in return. It would not be quick. Not this time.
With each stroke of the hammer, she said the names of her fallen brethren as she nailed Jimmy Crystal to the cross.
The ones killed by others. Shite, Jimmima. The ones engulfed by fire. Jimmy. The ones killed by her. Fox, Snake, Jones.
She named their victims. Her victims. Long dead but not forgotten. When she ran out of names she could remember, she described where they had committed their violent acts. The ram-shackled house to the west. Most recently, a gated farm. Countless victims.
Temptation.
She vowed this would be the last time she would give into this temptation. Her violent urges could be tamed. They would be tamed. She would see to it.
Her sins, her sorrow, her remorse, her resolve would hold her to account.
There may not be a heaven or hell, but she knew what she owed. To Spike. To Kelson. To all of her victims.
To herself.
Repentance.
Out of habit, she carved a K onto trees wherever she went. A lingering memory of who she was. Unwilling to completely let go of herself.
Kelly.
A name she had not uttered when she created the crucifixion. She was not dead.
Carefree, spinning, and smiling. Dancing like she was six or seven years old. She felt her old self reborn in the flames of Kelson’s magnificent show.
Though he may have saved Spike, there was no one looking out for her. No one for her to follow. No one she would ever trust to follow again.
She would have to guide herself to salvation.
“Spike, is it?” she asked. The boy confirmed with a nod.
“Kelly,” she offered. Her name…her real name.
Spike turned to her and softly smiled, and she felt it again. The need to protect him. To keep him safe for however long she could and by whatever means. She’ll pay for her sins with her life if need be.
“Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here.”
She took off her bestowed blonde wig. An unwanted present from long ago.
As they walked the well-worn path out of The Bone Temple, leaving the glow of the fire light and out into the dark, starry night, Kelly looked to Spike and repeated Kelson's words.
There’s just us.