Chapter 7 Carter
CARTER
The alarm said four thirty, but I didn’t even need to look at it.
As far as I can remember, I've always been an early riser. With the constant vigilance and fear, you know? It’s hard to keep your eyes shut when you’re afraid for your family’s safety.
I turn onto my side in my large bed, meeting the frame sitting on my bedside table.
The same picture and faces stare back at me, forever frozen in time with smiles and innocence.
My sisters.
My mother.
All gathered around me for my tenth birthday.
Emma and Elisabeth, nine and fifteen at the time, making cat ears behind my head and laughing so much, the picture is a bit blurry from how much they were moving.
My mom stands on the other side, looking down at me with a light smile and something warm in her eyes.
One of her hands rests on my shoulder, while the other mindlessly touches her belly, as if she's recalling the memories from the time I was inside. A perfect picture. Of the perfect family. And it was, it fucking was. If only the man who took the picture hadn’t…
Damn it. Don’t think about it. Not now.
My beautiful boy, she called me. Mom. Always said I was different, but that difference was a good thing.
That it made me special, she used to say.
That I'd find my people one day. She would rub my hair and kiss my forehead before tucking me into my covers, then disappearing back into the house. Near him. And I knew with certainty that the muffled sounds coming from the living room each night were my mother’s.
I grab the frame in my hand, looking closer, remembering Emma’s vanilla scent and Elisabeth’s laugh.
Thinking about the way my mom used to make pancakes for us in the shape of dinosaurs.
Remember the good times, Dr. Parks says in the back of my mind.
Don’t stick to the darkness, hold on to the light.
How ironic that the psychopath I’ve become had all the cards in hand to become a good person, then drifted to this path because of one single man?
Keep your eyes open, son.
I run my hand down my face at the sound of his voice.
He’s not there anymore, but I can still hear him as clearly as if he were in the room.
I still remember everything. Pushing the covers away, I stand in my black sweatpants and walk straight to my kitchen, pouring myself a large cup of coffee while taking in the view of the city.
I liked this place instantly when I bought it two years ago. Thought it was time to finally get a place of my own, especially considering the massive amount of money that was piling up in my bank account since I joined the club. Ares can be ruthless, but generosity isn’t one of his flaws.
The flat is all sharp edges and cold steel, like a fortress built in the sky.
The wide glass windows stretch from floor to ceiling, showing off the city lights at night from all the rooms. A massive leather sofa sits in the middle of the living room facing a large screen.
In the corner, my personal gym stands with high-end weights stacked in order, reminding me to keep my body as sharp as my mind.
There’s barely anything personal here, except for a few frames, pictures of my mom and sisters, staring back at me from another life.
It’s a fortress, a damn empty, quiet fortress.
Lana’s place has warmth. I saw it right away when I stepped into it.
Here, it’s just me, steel, and silence. I know it’s missing something, but hell if I know how to fix it.
Everything is sleek, spotless, and expensive, from the polished floors to the custom furniture.
Our home used to be colorful, with fabrics and cushions and all the stuff my mom knew how to put together to make our house a home.
I did exactly the opposite here, so I wouldn’t have to wake up every day thinking about the past. But no amount of gray and empty surfaces will make the memories go away.
I sigh, drinking my coffee. Mornings are always the same.
Coffee, working out, then head to Ares’s and Mia’s to work.
Routines are good. They keep me grounded, even if sometimes I miss the sound of bones cracking and voices pleading in the basement.
This part of my life is over now. What I cannot slash or kill or torture, I make up at the gym, pushing myself enough each morning, at least two hours, to end any part of me itching to go back to my past job.
You’re fooling yourself. You’re a monster, just like him. Go back to your basement and forget about her.
I put my mug into the dishwasher, then head to the gym to start my day, thinking about Lana and what went on with me when I invited her for lunch.
Vox and Ares came here once. But that’s all.
Apart from the cleaning crew, I’ve never had anyone here, especially not a woman.
What will she think of it? Will she want to run away when she steps into this black and white flat with sharp edges and cold atmosphere? Or will she like it and stay?
Don’t get your hopes up, you psycho.
Monsters never get the girl at the end of the movie.
I shake my head, thinking about the sweetest woman I’ll ever get to share a moment here with, and hope with everything that I am that I won’t fuck this up.
LANA
“My favorite nurse!” greets Mrs. Hissburg, her white hair tucked behind her ears with a pearl headband, her wrinkled face smiling at me from ear to ear.
I have to say, in all the years I’ve been caring for the elderly at the hospital, Mrs. Hissburg is the most elegant patient I’ve ever had.
She told me she used to participate in beauty pageants back in the day.
That men would drop at her feet like flies.
Eighty-five and still witty, I hope I'll be the same one day.
“My favorite patient.” I smile at her, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it gently.
“How are you today, Millie?” I ask a bit warily, because she’s back after three months at home.
One of her kidneys was removed earlier this week, and she should stay here for another month until we’re sure she’s in good enough shape to go back to her retirement home.
“I had better days, Lana, I’m not going to lie. Like my Ron used to say, ‘Life’s a game of cards, Millie, you can’t choose the hand, but you sure as hell can play it right’.”
I chuckle softly. “Wise man you had.”
“Oh, wise and handsome,” she winks at me, “if you get what I’m saying.” We both giggle, and I shake my head in admiration at the love she still carries for her late husband.
“It must have been special to find the love of your life.” My voice sounds sadder than I expected.
“It was. And to be honest, I’m convinced I’ll get to see him soon.
Up there or in another life. Soulmates never part, never,” she says with confidence, and I hate that I’ll never get to experience something as strong as unconditional love.
She’s so lucky, even if she lost him now.
She experienced it. Total, raw, unconditional love.
It’s hardly something I could say myself.
“What about you, sweetheart? Any gentleman calling your heart?” I shrug, thinking about Carter’s hand lacing with mine, the promise of him swaying in my heart on the rough seas of my past.
“Oh, there’s one,” she mutters. “Has he been courting you?”
“Courting me?” I lift a brow because I haven’t heard that term in ages, before I shake my head. “It’s new. I…I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell.” I feel myself blushing.
“Um, do you want a piece of my mind, young lady?” she offers with seriousness.
“There’s two types of men on this earth.
The one who uses you; that’s the one to avoid like the plague, trust me, I had my fair share of them.
And then, there are the ones that see you for who you are, not just what they can get from you.
The ones who stick around when things get rough, and believe me, they will.
The ones who don’t run at the first sign of trouble.
Those are the men worth giving a chance, even if it’s scary.
” She pauses, her eyes softening. “If this fella treats you right, you hold onto that, Lana. Don’t let fear make you miss out on something good.
Life’s too short for that, trust me, I’ve lived long enough to know. ”
Those are the men worth giving a chance. Her words sink deep into the place in my heart I keep empty, ready for someone, even if it’s still small and towers over what I’ve been through. Could Carter be this man? Could I leave my past behind and give him a chance?
“Thank you for your wisdom, Millie. Truly, I appreciate it.” She lifts her delicate hand and gently cups my face, her gold wedding ring sliding slightly on her slender finger.
“My dear, good things are coming for you, I can feel it,” she says, her voice smooth and rich, like fine silk. “Now, let’s tend to this pesky bandage, shall we? It has been positively tormenting me all night. I could barely sip my tea this morning without scratching myself like a street cat”.
I chuckle and nod. “Let’s change it,” I say before we start chatting about the new love interest of her favorite TV drama.
“Good things are coming for you.”
I hope so.
I really do.