Chapter 30
It was one of those nights. The kind that drags you under. Suffocating. I hadn’t drowned like this in a long time. Not since she came.
She dissolves the dark, pulls me back, and makes me forget what it feels like to be lost. But the light never lasts for long. And after many nights of silence, here I am, sinking still.
I get out of bed, take a cigarette from the pack on my nightstand, and light it up. Through the smoke, my eyes land on my mother’s cube, lying on the nightstand as well. Unconsciously, I take it in my hand and start twisting it.
I had a nightmare again. About them. About him. About that filthy ape who managed to drill into my innocent mind and turn it into an obscured abyss.
How strange that memories become nightmares. They haunt me during the day, and of course, they have to torture me at night, too.
It feels like yesterday when I ran into my mother’s chamber to hide from him again.
Again.
A word that has clung to my mind for as long as I can remember.
Again …
He was furious again.
He hunted me down again.
Did he have a reason to?
No.
He never did.
He just liked torturing his ten-year-old younger brother.
Mother held me, comforting me as she always did. But she was powerless to protect her son. He and Father made sure of that. They broke her, drained her will to live, and drove her to madness with the pills they forced on her—all to prove their lies that she was insane.
“Shhh, don’t be afraid, honey. I won’t let him harm you,” she soothed me, cradling me in her arms.
I could barely listen to her. My temples throbbed, and my heart was beating like crazy. It also hurt me. “He’s after me again,” I panted.
“You are safe with me.”
Then, a loud knock on the door made both of us jump in surprise. “Are you hiding behind your mommy’s skirts again, you little bastard?”
I was trembling—trembling and crying.
“You’re safe with me,” she whispered, stroking my head.
I didn’t talk; I merely nodded. I believed her. I always did.
Another knock, louder this time, thudded against the door. “Open the fucking door, you bitch!” he roared, knocking on it relentlessly.
“Mom?” I whispered anxiously. I knew he would eventually get inside. I knew he would catch me and drag me to the basement to chain me up. Again.
I raised my gaze and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, and she was mumbling something. It sounded like a prayer.
She was never really crazy. In fact, I think she knew that her end was close. She just didn’t know how close.
Because if she had known, she would have protected me.
“I know you’re in there!” he yelled again.
My heart was pounding louder. “Mom?” I repeated.
“I’m gonna kill you today, you little rat!”
Mom was quiet. Focused on her prayers.
“Mom?” I whispered, my voice barely leaving my lips.
The door nearly opened.
“Quick, hide in my closet!”
Without a second thought, I ran into her closet, curled up to myself, and hid behind her dresses. She knelt and stroked my face tenderly.
“Do you trust me?”
I nodded. “I trust you, Mom.”
“I’ll lock you in. Don’t be afraid. You’ll be safe.”
I nodded again. I trusted her the way a kid trusts his mother. Completely, blindly, with everything I had.
“He won’t find you. I won’t let him.” A tear escaped her grey, big eyes. “Remember the cube, Cain. Let it teach you.”
She stood up and locked the door. The sound of the key turning made my heart race even more. The sound that always terrified me. But tonight, I was safe. She made sure of that.
The room’s door smashed open, and she gasped in terror.
“Where is he?” he growled.
“Where is who?” Mother asked.
It sounded like he marched towards her. His footsteps were loud. Angry.
“Don’t play dumb to me, Mommy! Where is your bastard son?”
“The only bastard in this house is you. Wade had the audacity to bring you here, his mistress’s filthy spawn, to claim my fortune as if you were my heir. And I am forced to watch you torment my firstborn, treating him like nothing more than an insect.”
He chuckled eerily. “You’re a lunatic, woman. I am your firstborn. That bastard isn’t even Father’s child.”
“That child is mine!” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. “He’s my heir, and he will inherit my fortune, just as my will states.”
“Your what?”
“I had to make sure you would get nothing from me. Nothing I own belongs to you.” Her voice sounded firm and decisive.
“You are wrong, Mother. To the world, I am your firstborn. I am the rightful heir to your bloodline.”
Then came the most horrible sound I’ve ever heard in my life. The wet, gasping struggle for air. The rasp of her throat closing. The sick, hollow gurgling.
“And nothing will stand in my way.”
I pressed my hands over my ears, but it did nothing. I could still hear everything from inside the closet. The choking. The thud of her body against the floor.
“How does it feel, Mother?” he hissed. “Knowing that you failed not just as a mother but as a person? Knowing that you’re nothing more than a filthy, pathetic whore, and that your own ‘son’ is the one who will end you?”
I knew her time was coming. I felt it. But how? How could a ten-year-old boy sense death creeping closer so easily?
Because of him.
Because he did it.
He killed something bright in me.
Again.
And then, there was silence. Disgustingly quiet and suffocating silence. The only thing I could hear was his ragged breathing. Almost satisfied.
He just walked away and left my mother lying on the floor as if she were nothing.
My body was numb. I didn’t realize when I fainted from crying and remained unconscious in her closet for hours, embraced by her clothes. Her scent. Holding me tighter than she ever would again.
The next thing I knew, Grayson’s voice was pulling me back to reality. I was still in Mother’s closet, still drowning in my sorrows.
“Are you okay?” His brows furrowed in worry.
“H-He—”
“Are you okay, son?” he yelled, shaking me.
I nodded, my chin trembling. In one swift motion, he pulled me into his embrace.
“Mum,” I breathed, my voice muffled against his comforting shoulder.
I pushed him back and dashed to her.
“Cain, no!”
She was still lying on the ground. She seemed peaceful, as if she were asleep. But something was different about her.
She was pale. Cold. Lifeless.
“Mum!” I squealed, wrapping my arms around her as if that would bring her back. As if my desperate, childish cries could make her rise and comfort me like she always did.
Grayson kneeled behind me as if his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.
He pulled me back into his embrace and held me tightly.
“She’s dead! She’s dead, Grayson!”
His heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow and uneven. I could feel it. He was in pain, too; I knew it.
He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get through this, I promise.”
“What am I going to do now?”
He held my face, forcing me to look at him. “You’re not weak. You’re stronger than this. Stronger than all of this pain. You have to be. For her. For you.”
That day was when everything pure and innocent in me died. A part of my soul was buried with her, leaving nothing but a void.
Ever since that day, I dreamed of his fall. I dreamed of the moment when I would end it all. When my hands would silence his pathetic screams.
I imagined how life would drain from him. I reveled in the thought of him begging. I wanted him to feel the terror I felt, knowing that it would be me, with my own hands, bringing him to his fucking knees. I dreamed of watching the light in his eyes fade, savoring every second of his suffering.
And I dreamed about it again.
And again.
And again.
Until one day, I made it real.
At first, it was all about him. How to kill him. He was the fucking target.
But years went by, and I saw the truth. He was just another bitch on a leash, a goddamn pawn in my father’s filthy hands.
My father never dirtied his own. He made others crawl through his shit for him.
That’s why he let his own son torture me like this. Like I was nothing.
He wanted my mother dead, and he fucking brainwashed Atticus to stain his hands. He wanted to torture me, and he used him to do it.
Every fucking scar on me is because of him. Every fucked-up part of me is because of him.
All the blood, all the screaming, all the fucking nightmares. All because that bastard sat on his throne and played God.
Even dead, that son of a bitch is still inside my head, still twisting the knife.
How the fuck was I so goddamn na?ve? So fucking weak?
I should’ve put a bullet in his skull and set the whole fucking world on fire.
I should’ve ripped his fucking heart out and fed it to him.
I should’ve made him beg.
I should’ve made him suffer.
The explosion was too kind.
Suddenly, her arms wrap gently around me from behind, washing away my hatred and fear.
I brought her to sleep in my room tonight, where she’ll be safe. That way, I can watch over her. That way, nothing can take her away from me.
I lean in to her touch, feeling my muscles relaxing. Ever since she came, I have felt different. I was broken beyond repair. But her presence around me makes it all stop. It makes everything more manageable.
“Is everything okay?” she asks quietly, planting soft kisses on my bare shoulder.
“It was just a nightmare.” I drag the smoke.
“You had a horrible night. It’s normal.”
“You think?” I mock, putting out the smoke in the ashtray on the nightstand.
My fingers wrap around the cube, and I start twisting it again. She positions herself on her knees and holds my face, turning my head to look at her.
“What he said wasn’t real,” she says softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t pity you. I never did and never will.” I huff out a chuckle, lowering my head. “If things were different, I would fall for you in a heartbeat. If you weren’t a killer.”
“I’m not just that. I’m a monster.”