Chapter 2
COLTON
T he room is sterile, almost too clean, all pale walls and minimalist furniture that screams “neutral territory.” It’s the kind of place designed to soothe, to calm the chaos within you.
It’s not working for me.
How can you ever feel safe when your own brain wants to destroy you?
I’m sitting here, dressed down in a plain black T-shirt and jeans, as if trying to shed the wealth and darkness that clings to the Blackwood name like a second skin. My shoulders are stiff, my body tense, resentment and resignation battling for dominance as I face the therapist, a stranger who thinks they can unravel the twisted mess that is me.
Good fucking luck with that.
The therapist prompts me, some meaningless question about how I’m feeling today. I barely hear it. My mind drifts back to Xavier, my father. His shadow looms over me, an inescapable legacy that I’ve tried to distance myself from but can’t seem to shake. My hands clench involuntarily as I fight the battle between anger and the fear of becoming just like him. The monster he made me.
The monster he thought he made me, anyway.
Xavier’s last moments play out in my head like a twisted home movie. The smell of death, the feeling of finality—it should have been a relief. And it was, in a fucked-up kind of way. His death set me free, or at least, that’s what I tell myself. But there’s a darker truth beneath the surface, a guilt that twists around my gut. I’m haunted by the thought that his darkness has become my inheritance.
“I could be like him,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “But sometimes, I wonder if I’m already him. The thought won’t fucking leave me alone.”
The therapist nods, scribbling something down in a notepad. Probably some analysis of my fucked-up psyche, as if any of it could truly capture the monster inside me. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the silence, with the weight of my own thoughts. This was a mistake, coming here. Acting like I can fix what’s broken inside me.
I glance around the room again, the neutral colors and soft lighting suddenly feeling like a jail. I could never escape the power and control of the Blackwood name, never fully shed the darkness that’s been ingrained in me since birth.
“What makes you say that, Ray?” The therapist peers at me, her eyes wide as she waits for me to answer her. Her name is Dr. Evelyn Hartley, a name I committed to memory only because it was printed on the door of her pristine office. She looks at me with an expression that’s meant to convey empathy, but it only makes me feel more exposed, more vulnerable. I hate that feeling. I’ve spent my life shielding myself from anything that resembles weakness.
But I have to hide my snort at the name Ray . I could hardly give her my real name, not when I’ve travelled fucking miles away to find someone who may not be familiar with my family’s sick legacy.
So, for now, I’m Ray. Ray’s just as fucked up as me though, the poor bastard.
“My father was a monster,” I explain, the words coming out as a low growl. “He controlled everything and everyone around him. He destroyed people, mentally and physically. I saw it all. I’m his flesh and blood, so of course I think I’ll have inherited his madness.”
My vision blurs as memories flood back—bruised faces, broken cries, and the haunting echo of Sophia Watts’ name. Xavier’s obsession with her, with controlling her, with using her, it was so sickening. I felt it in my bones, the sickness of it all, the depravity.
My hands flex, and I find myself tracing the faint scars on my palm, remnants of self-inflicted wounds. The pain was a way to ground myself, to remind myself that I was still human amid the inhumanity I witnessed.
“I see. But now?” Dr. Hartley prods gently. “How are you coping now that he’s gone?”
“He’s gone, but he’s not,” I respond, a bitter laugh escaping me. “His voice is in my head, telling me to be ruthless, to control, to dominate. It’s a fucking battle every day.”
I look down, avoiding her gaze. My hands are shaking slightly, so I clench them into fists, hiding the tremor. The voices in my head grow louder, some urging me to let the darkness take over, to embrace the legacy, while others scream for freedom, for a chance to be something different. I can’t tell her about the fucking voices yet. She’d probably have me sectioned or something.
No thanks.
“You said his death set you free,” she continues, her voice steady despite my escalating emotions. “What does that freedom look like for you?”
“It looks like this,” I say, gesturing around the sterile room, the neutral space that should be soothing but feels more like a trap. “It looks like trying to figure out who I am without him.”
My mind flashes to Luella—to her fearless gaze, to the way she stood up to me, the way she resisted. She was a mirror to my own twisted reflection, showing me there was still a chance, still a way out.
She’s the real reason I’m here.
The longing for her is an ache, a throbbing pain that won’t let up. She’s not just a memory; she’s an echo, a constant presence in my thoughts. She left me because she had to, because I couldn’t be the man she deserved.
“Luella?” Dr. Hartley asks, catching me off guard. I must have mentioned her name without realizing it.
It doesn’t matter. Her name didn’t make the news, and why would it? She’s just another victim that the world knows nothing about. I hate calling her a victim because she’s not; she’s strong and fierce.
“Luella is...complicated,” I reply, my voice raw with emotion. “She’s everything I never knew I wanted and everything I can never have. She saw the darkness in me, and she wasn’t afraid. She saw the monster and chose to stay.”
Until she didn’t.
A silence hangs between us, thick with unspoken words and buried emotions. Dr. Hartley watches me intently, waiting for me to go on.
“But she left me,” I admit, the words tasting like defeat. “Because she had to. Because she deserves better than what I can offer.”
The therapist nods, her eyes reflecting a sadness that mirrors my own. “Sometimes, Ray, the hardest part of moving forward is accepting the pain of the past. It’s not about becoming someone else; it’s about accepting who you are, scars and all.”
Her words hang in the air, a harsh truth I can’t ignore. The battle within me rages on, the voices a constant reminder of the dark path I’ve walked. But in the quiet moments, in the fleeting seconds of peace, I see Luella’s face, and I know there’s still a chance, a way out of the darkness.
But for now, I’m here, in this sterile room, trying to find a way to accept the monster within. Trying to find a way to move forward, one step at a time.
“Tell me about your family home, Ray,” Dr. Hartley prompts, her voice cutting through the haunting memories.
A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “It’s not a home,” I state. “It’s a mausoleum. A prison I can’t escape.”
My mind flickers back to the estate. It’s a monument to everything I hate, its walls steeped in secrets I’d rather forget. The cold stone has witnessed the generations of Blackwood’s who have called it home—and the horrors they’ve inflicted within its walls.
I despise the place, yet I’m tethered to it. It’s a constant reminder of who I’m supposed to be, who I’m terrified of becoming. The estate is a physical manifestation of the power and control that defines the Blackwood name—and the expectations that come with it.
She nods, urging me to continue. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the onslaught of images that flood my mind.
“After my father died, I knew I had to leave,” I explain. “I couldn’t just step into his shoes, take his place. I refused to become a puppet in his fucked-up empire.”
I recall the steps I took to cover my tracks. Using my wealth and influence, I erased my digital footprint, destroying records and severing ties. I set up trusts to temporarily handle my assets, ensuring that the Blackwood name wouldn’t crumble in my absence but also that it wouldn’t be traced back to me. I planted stories in the media, hinting at a breakdown, a grieving son retreating from the public eye.
“I needed a clean slate,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “But I still can’t escape it. My mind won’t let me.”
I’m proud of what I did to escape, though. How I slipped away unnoticed. The subtle hints I left, the rumors, all designed to paint a picture of a man on the edge, consumed by grief and madness. It was an incredible play, one that allowed me to fade away into the shadows, unseen and unnoticed.
But the estate remains, a hulking, silent witness to my past. It haunts me, a reminder of who I’m supposed to be, who I fear I might still become. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a cold reminder of the darkness that lurks within me, the monster that threatens to consume me.
“And yet, you’re here,” Dr. Hartley points out, her voice soft but insistent. “You’re seeking help, trying to find a way forward.”
I meet her gaze, my jaw set in determination. She’s right. I am here, fighting against the tide of my past, struggling to forge a new path. I won’t let the estate, or the memories it holds, define me. I won’t let Xavier’s legacy become my own.
“I am,” I agree, my voice steady and sure. “Because I need Luella back. She won’t want me like this.”
Dr. Hartley studies me before scribbling something on her pad. The voices seize their moment, crippling me once again.
She’s not going to help you get Luella back, you fool! She will report you; she’s probably already figured out who you really are.
Kill her too! She has no right to know these things.
Then, my father’s voice.
He’s too weak to do the right thing. He’s a disgrace to the Blackwood name.
I rock in my seat and tug on my hair until it stings my scalp, mumbling at the voices to shut the fuck up.
Dr. Hartley’s pen pauses, her gaze sharpening with concern. “Ray, are you alright? You seem distressed.”
I grimace, trying to disguise the internal war as a moment of discomfort. “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just...memories. They can be overwhelming.”
She nods, understanding but not entirely convinced. “Would you like to take a break? We can continue when you're ready.”
I shake my head, determined to push through. “No. I need to do this.” I need to confront the chaos in my head, exorcize the demons that haunt me.
She watches me for a moment before continuing. “You mentioned Luella. Tell me about your relationship with her.”
My relationship with Luella...it’s a fucked-up concoction of obsession, fascination, and fear. She’s the only person who has ever looked at me and seen not just the monster, but the man beneath. She challenged me, defied me, and ultimately, she left me.
“Luella is...unique,” I begin, struggling to find the right words. “She saw through me, saw the darkness, and she wasn’t afraid. She pushed back, fought me at every turn. She was...is...a force to be reckoned with.”
I find myself smiling a small, sad smile. “She made me feel alive, Doc. She made me feel like there was a chance, a chance to be something other than the monster my father created.”
Dr. Hartley leans in, her interest piqued. “But she left?”
The smile fades, replaced by a familiar ache. “She had to. I...I did things, things that drove her away.” I hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. “I tried to control her. I thought...I thought I could keep her safe, keep her with me. But I couldn’t protect her from myself.”
The therapist is silent for a moment, absorbing my words. “You said you need her back. Why?”
“Because she’s the only one who understands,” I answer, leaning forward, my eyes locked onto hers. “She's the only one who sees me, really sees me. She knew the darkness, knew the monster, and she accepted it. She accepted me.”
I realize I’m clutching the arms of the chair, my knuckles white. I force myself to relax, to release my grip. “Without her, I’m lost. I’m just...” I don’t even finish the sentence because I don’t know what I am.
Dr. Hartley’s expression is thoughtful, considering. “And what do you think Luella wants?”
The question takes me aback. I open my mouth to reply, then close it again. What does Luella want? I’ve been so consumed by my own needs, my own desires, that I’ve barely stopped to consider hers.
“I...I don’t know,” I admit, the realization striking me like a physical blow.
The therapist nods, as if this revelation is a step in the right direction. “Perhaps,” she suggests gently, “the first step in moving forward, in finding a way back to Luella, is understanding what she wants. What she needs.”
I sink back into the chair, my mind racing. What does Luella want?
“You’re right,” I agree, a sense of resolve settling over me. “I need to find out what she wants. What she needs.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of Dr. Hartley’s mouth. “It’s a start, Ray,” she says. “It’s a start.”
I step out of the therapist’s office, the soft click of the door closing behind me echoing through the sterile hallway. The session was supposed to help, to untangle the mess of thoughts and emotions that have been consuming me. But all I feel is more conflicted, more torn.
I want to respect Luella’s independence, her strength. I admire the fire in her eyes, the way she refuses to bend to anyone’s will. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I want to be the one to stand by her side, to support her as she takes on the world. But there’s this other part of me that’s been conditioned by my father, by the life I’ve led, that screams at me to protect her, to keep her close, to possess her.
My footsteps echo down the hallway, each step a battle between the man I want to be and the monster I know I am. I want to change, to be better for her. But how can I change when every fiber of my being is woven with the need to control, to dominate?
I push open the door to the parking lot, the harsh sunlight blinding me momentarily. I blink away the spots in my vision, my hand tightening around my car keys. The therapist thinks I can just walk away, leave Luella to fend for herself. But they don’t know her like I do. They don’t know the darkness she’s faced. They don’t know the strength she possesses, or the vulnerability she hides.
I slide into the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life with a twist of the key and I grip the steering wheel. I want to be the man who stands beside her, who lets her shine. But the thought of her out there, alone, facing the world without me…it’s too much. She’s mine to protect—no one else can do what I do. And if that makes me a monster, then maybe that’s what I’ll be.
For her, I’ll be whatever she needs. Even if it means embracing the darkness I’ve tried so hard to escape.