He didn’t understand that I’m capable of doing that to him.
I haven’t looked at his face since then. I still don’t.
All I’ve done is drive.
At one point, I’m too light-headed; it’s kind of alarming. It’s like I can’t feel my face or my limbs or anything.
With the dose I gave him, I have around twenty to thirty minutes until he regains complete consciousness. Sure, I could’ve found a poison, injected him with it, and ended it there.
But that’s too peaceful, too easy.
Besides, he needs to know the sins he’s paying for.
His limbs start twitching and so do his lids. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that means the drug is slowly starting to wear off. I have another needle at the ready so when he meets his end, he won’t be able to move a muscle.
Like me.
Like the little girl crying on my shoulder.
He’ll die unable to do any fucking thing about it, just like I couldn’t.
This isn’t revenge. This is fucking karma.
I slam on the brakes right at the top of a hill. The early morning lights are visible in the distance. Today, the clouds are so thick and grey, as if in mourning.
Taking a deep breath, I face him.
His eyes are open, but he can’t turn around to look at me. He just stares ahead like a zombie with his brains sticking out.
“You’re going to die, Edric,” I say in a neutral tone, knowing the effects of the drug are fading and he can hear me even if he can’t move. “It’s a nightmare to want to move but not have the ability to, isn’t it?” I continue. “That’s how I felt every time you walked into my room and jerked off to my body. That’s how I stayed when your semen coated my skin.”
He makes an unintelligible sound, but all he manages to get out is drool that trickles down his chin. I couldn’t begin to think what he means by that — not that it matters. This time, it’s all about me, not him.
“I screamed in my head, too, just like I’m sure you’re doing right now. But you know what happens when you scream and there’s no sound? You kind of stop screaming, stop making yourself noticeable, and soon enough, you stop existing. You want to purge it somehow, but you can’t cry or talk or even breathe. That’s how I’ve lived for the past eleven years, like a shadow of myself, a ghost of what I should’ve been.
“I was so numb, I slept with countless men as soon as I could. I lost my virginity at thirteen just so I could get rid of the numbness and prove I’m not a freak, prove I can feel, but no matter how much sex I had, the numbness never left. It’s there, in every fucking moment, in every waking second, and even in sleep. Until…Ronan.”
My voice breaks and I clear my throat so he doesn’t hear it. “That’s another reason why I hate you. You didn’t just steal my childhood — you also took away Ronan. Why did he have to be your son? Why is the only person who makes sense your fucking heir? Do you know what the ironic part is? While you were engrossed in your paedophile activities with me, your own son got molested.”
The sounds he’s making increase in volume, his mumbled words successive but still unintelligible. The seatbelt holds him in place, so he couldn’t move a muscle even if he tried to.
“Right.” I laugh without humour. “You don’t know that because you’re not only a fucked-up human being but also a horrible father. Yes, Edric, Ronan was molested during that Halloween night he dressed up as Dracula and you left him alone. That’s why he’s so overly joyful sometimes. It’s his defence mechanism when the memories become too much, just like it’s my defence mechanism to run, to prove I actually exist.”
His fingers twitch, and he almost lifts a hand but it soon falls limp by his side.
“Nooooo…” he slurs, the sound almost haunting.
“Yes,” I say. “And now, I have to erase you off the face of the earth. You know, my original plan was to kill you then walk away, travel, and live the life you robbed me of. But I can’t do that anymore. Do you know why?”
He makes another noise, and this time, I place the needle near his throat. That makes him pause his attempts to move.
“Because I can’t live in a world where Ronan hates me. I can’t be out there after killing his father and knowing the pain I caused him.” A tear slides down my cheek then, and I taste salt.
I pause, my eyes widening.
A tear.
My first tear for myself in over a decade.
Edric stares at me, too, as if feeling my pain and how the reality of things is slashing me from the inside out and I have no way to stop it.
Only he doesn’t feel. He’s a monster.
“Why did it have to be you? Just why?”
He doesn’t answer.
He can’t.
“It’s the end, Edric. It ends how it started.” I hit the accelerator. “See you in hell.”
I can’t live in a world where Ronan hates me, so it’s only fair I pay for my sins in this life.
Where Edric goes, I’ll go.
Maybe there, I’ll be free.
Maybe there, I’ll think of a life where Ronan and I were meant to be together.
I’m sorry, Ronan. I’m so sorry.
33
Ronan
Fuck.
Fucking, fuck.
Okay, maybe if I could get that word out of my immediate thoughts, I could actually think straight and function.
Fuck!
I jump to my feet and storm to the kitchen, crumpling the letter Teal left me in my fingers and shoving it in my pocket. I couldn’t get her words out of my head even if I tried. There’s this constant sound that won’t end or stop.
The weeping of a small girl.
My breathing deepens at the thought of what happened to her and the way her voice, her tears, and her feelings were stolen.
It wasn’t only her innocence; it was her life essence. No wonder she built walls and forts and did everything possible to stay away.
I’m nothing in comparison. I had my parents, even if they were absentee. She had no one. Her only parent was a monster.
And now, she thinks my father is also a monster.
He’s not.
Edric and I might have some issues — okay, a lot, and all of them have to do with his stiff personality and the way he stole Mum away from me — but he’s not a paedophile.
He’s not sick.
Besides, he was too busy with Mum during the time frame Teal described. He didn’t go to Birmingham, and he never spent ten minutes away from Mum.
I know, because I hated him at the time. I hated how he wouldn’t let me stay in Mum’s room. I always thought he was controlling her, but it turns out he was only respecting her wish.
However, I do know who went to Birmingham on Dad’s behalf. I know who took care of the business and used the Astor name as he saw fit.
He sits on the counter in the kitchen. He hasn’t left, of course. If Dad says he wants to have a word with him and there’s a possible new business venture, Eduard the fucker mopes around like a dog waiting for a bone.
Lars notices me first and cuts off his one-sided glare towards Eduard. The latter is nose-deep in his English scones and bacon.
Lars has never hidden the fact that he doesn’t like Eduard, but since he never actually confirmed what happened that night, he couldn’t be Dad’s informant. Not to mention the fact that I would’ve fucking murdered him if he’d spilt my secret to Dad without my knowledge.