Chapter 17: The Nightie

"What the fucking fuck are you wearing?" Bo asked as Katrina pranced downstairs, wearing a short, tight black silk nightgown with tiny velvet bows on the spaghetti straps.

She shrugged innocently. "A nightgown. What else would you call it?"

His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. "A come-hither and rape me outfit, that's what the fuck I'd call it."

Katrina laughed. "Well I call it a nightie. And me and this nightie are going to Vince's workshop. I'm going to watch him wax Vera."

Bo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah right. You show him how you look in that thing and there'll be no fuckin' way he does anything but stare at you."

She stopped in front of him. "Why Bo, are you saying I look good?"

He laughed at her. "Fuck yeah, darlin'." He scrutinized her for a moment. "You do know you look fine as fuck, right?"

She swallowed. "I'm going down to the workshop," she said before turning and hurrying out the door.

Bo shook his head, took another swig of beer, and returned to watching I Love Lucy.

Katrina walked slowly through the frigid air, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms and legs. She wiped a tear from her eye and held it out on her fingertip, watching the moonlight dance around in its depths before flicking it away.

Vincent watched her from a window in the House of Wax. Part of him wanted to go out and hold her, while the other part was too afraid of rejection. He touched the knife at his waist, running a finger along the carved words of his name. "She likes me . . . why am I so afraid of her?" He took a step towards the door, intending on going out to her, but just couldn't make himself do it. Turning on his heel, he hurried back down into his workshop.

Unaware that she had been watched, Katrina stood for a few more moments, staring up at the moon. When the cold air became too much for her, she wrapped her arms around herself and went into the House of Wax, heading downstairs. "Vincent?" she asked, turning the corner into the workshop. The sounds of a woman singing the Ave Maria sounded throughout the air. "Are you down here?"

He took a deep breath before turning around to face her.

She looked amazing.

Katrina smiled shyly. "Do . . . do you like it?" she asked.

Vincent stared at her, nodding slowly.

She walked over to the bed and sat down, wondering why he was being so shy when he had obviously been so interested the night before.

"She can't truly want me . . . who would want a freak like me?" he thought, forcing himself to turn back around and begin scraping down the now waxed Vera.

Katrina swallowed hard and pulled a blanket around herself. "So . . ." she said, trying to break the silence.

Vincent's eyebrows met as he desperately tried to find something to talk about. "How . . . did you get here?" he finally asked.

Katrina began twisting a curl around her finger. "My Pa was an asshole," she said. "He would beat the shit out of me since I was a little girl." She leaned back, examining her fingernails. "It was like . . . after so many years of hearing him say I was worth nothing, of him beating me, of hearing him say no one cared . . . I finally started to believe it. Even if he didn't like me, others did. Guys mostly. I thought that just because they wanted to screw me, it meant they loved me."

Vincent nodded, motioning for her to continue while he finished working on Vera. Anything to keep from actually looking at her.

"Anyway, I got pretty fucking tired of Pa. The other day, after he caught me crawling out of the window to go to a rave, he beat me within an inch of my life. For some reason, it reminded me of when I was a little girl, and I ran away because he hit me in the face. All I did was take a bite of his sandwich. But I was so hungry! I was on punishment for three days without any food because I forgot to close the porch door." She snorted.

"Where is your mother?"

"Pa killed her when I was eight. He slammed her head in the wall until it was mushier than a rotten pumpkin."

Vincent stared at her in shock. "How do you know he killed her?" The thought of a man harming his wife was too foreign for him to comprehend. His father had never been nothing but loving towards his mother, even when she lost her mind.

She shrugged. "I watched him do it."

"Why?"

"Why did he do it, or why did I see it?"

"Why did he do it?"

"Probably because she told my brother not to hit me."

"You have a brother?'

"Yes," she said, making a face. "He's just as bad as Pa. Robert's his name. He's back at the house, probably waiting for Pa to bring me back. Stupid idiot."

"He beat you too?" Vincent stared at Katrina with anger in his eyes.

"Yes. But he didn't start beating me until after we moved out of the town I was born in. Before then, it was just slapping."

"When?"

"Right after Pa killed Ma. He didn't want to get caught. We left that night, after Pa buried Ma in the backyard. We lived in the car until Pa got a job at a gas station. Then we lived in shitty motels until Robert was old enough to get a job. They rented houses after that. We were living in Mead . . . that's a town about seventy five miles north of here . . . for the past four years."

Vincent nodded. When the three closest towns had no jobs for Bo to do, he often traveled all the way to Mead.

"That's where Robert is now," Katrina continued. "And about a week ago, I got tired of their shit and just left. I left with these idiots because I knew Victor wanted me. I knew that if he thought he could get some, I could ride in the car with them. I've known them all since I moved to Mead. We all went to the same high school together. Vera and Jessie and I never got along, but Victor's always been trying to get me to go out with him. He asked me to go with them to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I thought that I would just ditch them when I got far enough away." She made a face.

"But I got tired of Victor trying to get in my pants. When I went to wash off in the river, he followed me. Fucker tried to rape me. So I sliced his throat. Greg had been joking with me to do it anyway. Just because he wanted me too. That and Victor was constantly talking shit to poor little Greg. Of course I planned on killing that bastard as well . . . he would have tried to fuck me too. I don't know what it is with guys who think that just because a girl's little and skinny, she can't defend herself."

Vincent glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back.

"I was going to kill these bitches too. This fucking bitch right here got Jessie to call my Pa to tell him where I was going. That's how Pa found out where I was. They did it while I was killing Victor." She was silent for a moment. "That probably means Robert knows, too. This also means he'll be along sooner or later, to find out where Pa and I are."

"No. I'll kill him."

She grinned at him. "I love you, Vincent."

He turned red and looked back down at Vera, putting the finishing touches to her face. He got so engrossed in the detail that he forgot about Katrina. When he finally looked up, she was asleep. A few hours later, he slid into bed beside her, not wanting to leave her down in the workshop alone.