Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
VIC
Iknow there was more to the story, but instead of confronting Brandon and Dani that day, I let the rage devour me completely. I threw myself into my studies and detached myself from everything else—no parties, no friends, and no women.
As a result, I think I lost a little of my humanity.
Confrontation would have been a predictable response for any sane person.
To find out the truth and seek those answers to the questions that plague you.
But I’m no longer either of those, sane nor predictable.
My mother died, and I endured. I survived a hostile home, the sting of his volatile temper, and the punishments dealt out with his fists.
Until one night I ended him, and his reign of terror ceased until his blood ran freely on the floor.
And then, there was Dani, still cloaked in my father’s blood.
My breathing hitches, and my cock grows hard, remembering when her lips were coated red from our shared blood-stained kisses.
I carried her upstairs bridal-style. I took her there in the shower, still drenched in the red coloring of my sins, driving into her mercilessly with the same desperation that had driven me to commit murder.
Our darkness collided, entwining in a macabre dance of shadows that cloaked my bedroom, binding us in something deeper than this world.
It was darker than love, a contract of our forever, bound through violence and need. Our equal obsession.
My breathing increases, forced and angry.
So when I saw her wrapped in the arms of another man, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. She was all I had left, and in that moment, it felt like she was being stolen from me, and my soul was being ripped apart from its ethereal tether, piece by fucking piece.
I look down and see the blood swell slightly at the surface from where my nails bit into the skin on my leg. I watch it bead, and one lone drop forms at the surface, and I place my thumb into it and suck it into my mouth.
That next morning, when I returned from Texas, I woke with a hangover sharp enough to split my skull.
Now, years later, as the silence stretched, and as I realized my time at this school is over, one truth surfaced.
I couldn’t outrun the past any longer. So I made the decision to travel back to Texas before my next move to Massachusetts for residency.
Back to the ghosts that haunted it, the blood and the lies I buried there.
I needed to see Dani and get answers. I can’t move on, and maybe I don’t want to.
The first thing on Monday, after securing my place and preparing to begin the next part of my career path, I drive to the Boston airport and leave my car in central parking, resolved to worry about the fee when I return.
Four hours later, I pull away from the Austin airport in a rental car, finally doing what I should have done before.
I curse my stupidity and berate myself the entire ride there.
The old Vic would have never let her go without a fight, and yet I left her that day like a coward.
Leaving her was my failure, but now I’m finally doing what I should have done long ago.
The city gives way to long stretches of highway, with city buildings made of steel and glass transformed into pastures and country homes.
It’s as if time stands still in this place, despite the years that have passed.
As I drive onto the last stretch of road, my body twists with doubt about my choices.
I hadn’t thought this through, not really.
I have been a shell of myself since I left her, drifting further with every mile that I left things unresolved between us, and now I was barrelling back without having a single word prepared.
What would I even say to her? That I love her?
That I hated her? That I would forgive her for anything? All of it was true at the present.
But if Brandon is there, I don’t think I can trust myself to walk away without bloodshed.
I sigh. Bloodshed could mean jail, and I don’t know if Dani would protect me from myself this time.
Without that being an option for now, I force myself to breathe long, deep inhales as I fight the darkness that claws just beneath the surface, manifesting it to sink into the deepest crevices of my being.
The way that I had trained myself to keep the rage contained in its cage, even as it tried making its way to the surface just beneath my ribcage, battering my heart that only beats for one woman.
So with the help of several more deep breaths—manifesting a calm, clinical detachment, I pull up to her house and get out, and can’t stop my eyes from drifting over to the one I’d grown up in.
A bicycle leans against the porch rail, along with a couple of toys scattered across the lawn.
It paints a picture of a normal home life filled with caring parents and children running amok, content with their childhood.
It looks like the way I always wanted my childhood to be, but the only hope remained that I could recreate that depicted fantasy with another person, one person in particular.
The vision clears, and I blink. The dream is gone.
As I stare at it more closely, I know that I will always see it as my father's house. The place I’d never called home.
But Dani’s house? That had always been my sanctuary.
She was the place where my jagged puzzle pieces met hers, creating a beautiful, scenic picture of our future.
This is the place where I still feel like I truly belong.
And I was ready to take back my sanctuary and erase Brandon forever.
I have already decided to forgive her. Truth be told, Dani could do anything, and I’d still love her.
So as I bounce up the steps with a hammering heart, ready to knock on her door and win her back.
I’m practically readying to throw myself at her feet, just as the door swings open before I can knock.
A young woman, who is very much not Dani, stares at me, her head tilting slightly, assessing.
“Hi.” She smiles up at me curiously, my hand frozen mid-knock.
Unable to speak, I lower my arm and step back.
Confusion pulls my mouth into a frown. “Can I help you?” Her voice is polite, but edged as if she’s calculating shutting the door in my face.
Her gaze looks past me, scanning the driveway, before her attention snaps back to me.
I clear my voice, the words stuck in my throat as I push them out. “Are you a friend of Dani’s?” The question escapes before I can stop it. My eyes search her face when hers crinkle at the corners in confusion. I look at the driveway, searching for Dani’s car, but I only see an unfamiliar sedan.
At Dani’s name, the woman stiffens, her posture rigid.
“Are you friends with Brandon?” she asks, and when I look at her, she must hear the murderous thoughts that cross my mind when hearing their names used in the same sentence, as if they could ever be a couple.
She takes a step backward as fear shows in her eyes, but my anger is misplaced.
It’s not toward her, but pain from the knife that is twisting in my heart.
“Did he send you here to collect rent?” Her words hang in the air between us.
My eyes widen in surprise at hearing that Brandon owns this house or is possibly connected to it.
I shift forward, my foot pressing to take a step, but she instinctively flinches.
I halt my movements, my body seizing at the memory.
For a moment, it isn't her I’m seeing, it’s my mother.
The same recoil and fear bring back so many haunting memories of those dark times in my life, and I try to keep them buried.
I push them all down, softening my shoulders and clenched jaw.
When I speak again, my speech is softer, and my temper is reigned in.
“Explain.” It’s the only word I can force past my lips. One that I can let out as the storm brews inside me when it comes to Dani. Each memory collides in a cyclone that ruins me. Her face. Her touch. Her betrayal. On the surface, I am silent and calm, but underneath, everything is coming undone.
“I’m only a month behind, but I have the money…
” She trails off, looking over her shoulder into the house.
She keeps the door cracked, but I see her finger held taunt on the frame, her knuckles white in panic.
If she shuts me out now, I may never know what happened.
I press my hand against the door, keeping it open, and stopping her from retreating into the house.
Her body stiffens, alarm sparks in her eyes.
I know I’m scaring her, and that isn’t my intention.
But it’s desperation that fuels my actions today.
One made from a lovesick fool, and I need her to understand my dilemma.
“No, that’s not it.” I shake my head, sighing, breaking eye contact with her and looking down at the crack in the cement on the top porch step.
The familiar jagged fissure mimicking the fracture residing in my chest. “I’m looking for my girlfriend,” I explain, trying not to sound as pathetic as I feel.
“She used to live here. Her name is Dani.”
“Ah,” she says. Her body relaxes as she steps onto the porch.
I feel her approach me like someone trying to coax a skittish animal closer, a palm extended, full of food.
Except hers isn’t food in her palm, it’s information.
“There’s no Dani here, but I bet Mr. Marx may know something.
” I look up, hopeful, and she smiles. “She used to own this house. I do know that.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners.
Her finger comes up to touch the side of her lip.
“He wouldn’t be here.” She shakes her head.
“He just owns the place now, but his office is still downtown.” She sees my shocked expression and shrugs. “That’s all I got.”
And that’s enough. I nod eagerly, already turning around and running to my truck. “Good luck!” she shouts after me. I raise a hand in acknowledgement without looking back, already shutting the door to my rental car and throwing it in gear, speeding away to where my answers lie.