Just Mercy: A Novel Read Free

she was, her body sunken inside ripped and filthy jeans that were falling off her hips and a faded blue tee shirt with holes in the front that looked like they came from cigarette burns. If Mom were here, she’d try to figure out how to clean the woman up and get her a change of clothes. That was Mom, Veronica thought with a smile, always trying to fix everyone—not the worst thing in the world.
    The woman tilted forward, then tipped backward. Veronica reached out to steady her. She looked sick. She must be homeless.
    “Do you want to sit down, ma’am?”
    The woman turned and started to stagger off but tripped on the curb and almost fell again.
    “Here, let me help you.”
    “Don’t need no help.” The woman’s voice was hoarse, growl-like.
    “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
    The woman glared for an instant before her eyes went blank again. Veronica watched her reach into the pocket of her jeans and pull something out. Something shiny. She heard a click. Then she saw it. Why did the woman have a knife? And where would a homeless woman get a switchblade, of all things? She had read about the rapes and assaults against the few women who lived alone on the streets of Austin. Of course. That explained it. The woman needed the knife for protection.
    She kept her eyes on the switchblade dangling at the woman’s side, quivering in her hand as if it were a living thing. Click. Veronica jumped. The blade disappeared. Click. It shot out again and pointed at the ground. Click. Gone. Click. Click. Click. The knife opened, closed, opened.
    “I think you should put that away,” she said in a careful, calm voice.
    But instead the woman brought the knife up to within inches of her own face. She squinted at it as if trying to figure out what it was. Then she pressed the tip of the blade into her hand and studied the thin line of red oozing from her palm. With surprising precision, she pressed the sharp point of the blade into the tip of each of her fingers. One by one she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting in and out, licking the blood.
    Another staccato click and the blade disappeared. Click—open. Click—close.
    Veronica’s breath was coming in ragged spurts now. Why hadn’t she put her inhaler in her pocket?
    “You’re hurting yourself,” she gasped, holding out her open hand. “Here, give the knife to me.”
    The woman raised her hand high in the air. The knife hovered over her head. Click. The blade shot up toward the night sky. Click. It was gone. She tucked in her chin and narrowed her eyes. Click. Her left eye twitched. Her lips sneered.
    “Please, let me help you.” Veronica’s voice shook. Where was that bus, anyway? What could she do to calm the woman down until it got here?
    “What makes you think I need help? Huh? Huh?”
    At the feral look in the woman’s eyes, Veronica’s heart started hammering against her chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” She raised her palms in front of her.
    “Like you? Huh? Huh? Like you?”
    When the woman took a step forward and pointed the knife at her, Veronica raised her hands again. She lifted her left foot up and in slow motion set it down behind her. Then she lifted her right foot and set it down, repeating each tiny step and going as slowly as possible in order to reach her backpack without setting the woman off. If only she could get to her cell phone. She needed her inhaler, bad.
    Too late. With a terrifying howl, the woman charged at her. Veronica tried to push her away and felt the blade slash her fingers. She raised her hands to cover her face as the woman screamed and lunged at her again. Then the blade was everywhere, tearing into her arm, her shoulder, her face. It flashed over her as she fell to the ground. With each stab, she screamed and begged the woman to stop. The pain was excruciating until suddenly, gratefully, she felt nothing.

TWO
    July 15, 2011
    Nothing turned out the way