Novalee's stomach turned. "He killed them?"
"All of them." Atlas's voice was flat, dead. "Every single one. When he got bored, or when they broke completely—he killed them."
"How?"
"Different ways. Depended on his mood." Atlas resumed washing her back, mechanical, like he was describing groceries. "One he strangled. Watched her die slow. Another he beat to death. Took hours. The last one—" He stopped.
"What?"
"He cut her throat. Made me watch. Made me hold her down while he did it." Atlas's hands were shaking now. "She was begging. Pleading. And I—I held her there while he—"
He couldn't finish.
Novalee reached out, her wet hand covering his on the edge of the tub. "Atlas. Look at me."
He didn't move. Staring at nothing, lost in the memory.
"Atlas." She squeezed his hand. "Look at
