46. Forty-six Freya
Forty-six: Freya
I awoke with a gasp, my body coated in sweat and my eyes teary. My heart was pounding, causing my ribs to ache, and I glanced at my bedside clock to see that it was almost six in the morning.
Yet another nightmare. This time, I was being dragged into the depths of hell by Satan himself, his raspy laugh echoing around me and bouncing off the tongues of flames that surrounded us.
You belong here, he’d said.
This is where murderers go.
You’re going to suffer for all eternity for what you’ve done.
There was no way I was going to get back to sleep, so I pushed myself out of bed and hopped into the shower. I was visiting my father in prison today. I needed answers. I knew nothing he would say would satisfy me, but I wanted to hear why he’d got involved with such a career in the first place. Gaining clarification was going to help with my healing—something I’d discussed with my therapist.
I stole another glance at the sheer amount of roses I had piled in the corner of my room. They made me smile. Although, my mother had almost suffered a heart attack when she came home to find them—I had stashed the majority of them—and I told her they were from Kaleb’s organisation as an apology for getting mixed up in things. She believed me, but scowled and commented about it being a little excessive. She wasn’t wrong, but that was one thing I loved about Kaleb. He always surprised me.
I straightened my spine as I strolled into the prison entrance, checking in and receiving a quick body search. The prison officer spent a little too long fiddling with my bra, and I resisted the urge to tell her that there was no way for me to shove anything in there when it was already filled with my tits.
My dad was waiting for me along with other prisoners, and my stomach contorted at the sight of him in his grey joggers and white T-shirt. The attire didn’t suit him, used to seeing him in suits and designer shirts.
I nodded as a greeting, immediately picking up on his dark under-eyes and pale skin. It was clear he was having a rough time adjusting, having always enjoyed the lavish things in life—and this was far from it.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” he told me, and I clasped my hands together as I slid onto the chair opposite him, gulping. I wanted to rip at my cuticles, but I’d been trying my best to stop abusing them for the past few days.
I shrugged. “I need answers.”
My father hummed, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t intend for you to be dragged into all this. I did my best to keep it private.”
I nodded. It didn’t matter, though, because he hadn’t tried hard enough. “Why would you want that life, Dad? Why not choose a normal career?”
His eyes darkened, and for a second, I feared him. He’d always had a bit of a temper, and I supposed it was why he fit into the criminal world so well. “Do you know how much money I was making, Freya? A lot. More than some crappy business job would have got me.”
I scowled. “But yet we were in debt? A debt you were hiding from us. How does that make sense?”
“I didn’t say I was great at saving money. I admit, I became cocky, and I spent a lot of it. I also invested it, but that backfired, and I lost most of my earnings. Then I fucked Will off by losing our stock, and I couldn’t afford to pay my way out of it.”
“You were selfish,” I stated, leaning back in my chair, trying to remain as calm as possible. The surrounding prisoners could smell fear, and I was concerned that they'd pounce if they were to get a whiff. “You put both Mom and I in danger, and we almost lost everything because of you.”
I had to admit, though, if my father hadn’t been such a fuckup, I never would have met Kaleb—the only positive thing to come out of it.
“I don’t regret the money I made us,” my father said nonchalantly. His demeanour was a vast difference from the panicky man he’d been when Will had a gun to my head, but adrenaline changed people in wonderful ways. This was who my father really was. Cold. Detached. And selfish. “I provided you and your mother with a good home, and we were able to take expensive vacations when you were younger.”
“How was that all worth it? You lost all the money, you and Mom got divorced, I almost ended up being killed, and now you’re in prison.”
“We have different morals, Freya. You value the life of others, and I’m not so bothered. I’m happy that you’re content with having such a normal life. It means you won’t end up in the same situation I’m in.”
Was my father admitting to being part of the murders? He hadn't been charged with them. There wasn't enough evidence, but deep down, I felt like I knew the truth. A chill ran down my spine.
Like father, like daughter.
Taking a deep breath, I grimaced. This wasn’t helping at all. If anything, it was making me angrier because I knew there was no saving him—this was who he was.
“I need to go,” I said, rising from the chair. “When you learn to actually feel remorse for everything you’ve done, including fucking up other people’s lives besides just your own, take a break from rotting in your cell and give me a call.”
Not that I’d answer.
My father’s eyes flickered with irritation as he watched me leave the prison.
He hadn’t been a good person for most of my life. He’d done nothing but cause me pain and dejection, and ?I was much better off without him.
Ty gazed at me over his coffee cup, his eyes bleak and his face solemn. I hadn’t seen him since the incident, and I didn’t know how to feel. I was sitting opposite my friend, and I’d killed his uncle—right in front of him.
“Well shit,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair and chuckling in disbelief. “This is completely fucked.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Yeah, I know.”
“Freya, I swear. I had no idea what Will was going to do. I didn’t know he was some psychotic drug lord. He was always a little strange, but I thought that was just because he needed some medication or something.” Guilt pooled in his baby-blue eyes.
“Ty, you know I don’t blame you. I’m pretty sure he was going to kill you, too. I’m sorry for—“
“If you apologise again, I’m going to throw hot steaming coffee in your face.” He smiled, shaking his head at me. “How are you doing, though? Like seriously?”
It was a question everyone had been asking me lately, but I played it down every time. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.
Oh yeah, Will haunts me in my sleep, and I can’t get the fact that I killed someone out of my head to where I stay awake all night or throw myself so deep into work that I can’t stop for days at a time, but other than that, I’m great, thanks.
“I’m seeing a therapist, and it’s slowly helping. I know it’s her job, but I can’t help but feel awkward opening up about everything to her. I think I’m afraid she’ll judge me.”
“There’s nothing you can say that’ll surprise a therapist. They’ve heard it all, so don’t feel you need to hide from them.”
“Maybe ice hockey isn’t your calling, Ty.”
He chuckled. “I think I was a psychiatrist in my past life.”
The sun was setting, and my thoughts were becoming just as dark as the sky outside. I wanted to head home and distract myself with some stupid rom-com movie and a pint of ice cream, so I excused myself and began the drive home.
My eyes were drawn to the road leading towards Kaleb’s house, and I passed it slowly. We hadn’t spoken too much over the past few days besides a few texts. He’d been working long shifts bodyguarding Madison, and I'd been distracted creating myself a portfolio of projects I'd helped complete at work.
My mother was out tonight, so I had the house to myself, and I buried myself in my bed and wrapped myself up in the covers as I attempted to focus on my laptop screen. But the movie sounded like gibberish. Nausea wavered through my stomach, and I released my grip on my ice cream tub and set it aside.
Murderer.
Killer.
Murderer.
Killer.
“Get the fuck out of my head,” I spat with gritted teeth, slamming my laptop shut as Will’s face flashed in my line of vision. I clamped my eyes shut, shaking my head and cursing.
My heart hammered, and I bit down harshly on my bottom lip until the taste of iron filled my mouth. It sent me right back into that basement, blood trickling down my chin as one of Will’s butlers struck me, my wrists painfully bound behind my back.
The pain.
The heartache.
The way my world had shattered in the space of a few hours.
I released a desperate sob, reaching for my phone and dialling the number of the only person I knew could overpower Will’s venomous abuse.
“Freya?” Kaleb muttered through the line.
My breathing was shaky.
“Freya? What’s happened?”
“Can you come over?” I asked, my voice wavering and my teeth chattering.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I heard shuffling and then the purr of a car engine before I hung up the phone, my tingling hands unable to support the device's light weight any longer.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. This wasn’t like me. I was usually so calm and easygoing, and I was furious with myself that I had allowed Will to change me. He was haunting me from hell, and I guaranteed he was loving every fucking second of it.
Murderer.
Killer.
Murderer.
Killer.
Murderer.
Kill-
I jumped as my bedroom door was pushed open, and Kaleb appeared in the doorway, a frown taking over his beautiful face. How long had I been sitting in bed shielding myself from Will’s cruel words?
“How did you get in here?”
“I know how to pick locks, Freya,” Kaleb said, shrugging, making his way over to me slowly, perching himself on the edge of my bed. “What’s going on, baby?”
Tears fell from my weary eyes, and I placed my hands on either side of my head. “He won’t leave me alone.”
Kaleb’s brows creased as he reached for me, wrapping his large hands around my wrists and prying them from my head. “Who?”
“Will. He’s in my head. I’m going fucking crazy.”
He shushed me, pulling my sobbing form into his arms and rocking us back and forth slowly. He stroked my hair, saying nothing. But he didn’t have to. His presence alone was calming enough, the smell of his cologne wafting up my nostrils. I buried my face in his neck with clenched fists.
“You’re not going crazy, my little artist,” he told me, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.
“I am. I’m a murderer.” Snot dripped from my nose. “I shot him in the face. He couldn’t have survived that, Kaleb. He tells me every night. I can’t sleep. He’s always there in my head, laughing at me because he’s going to see me down in hell.”
Kaleb shook his head. “You’re not going to hell, Freya. I can promise you that.” He looked pained, running his tongue along the front of his teeth before nodding towards my laptop. “What were you watching?”
I followed his gaze, sniffling. “Um, just some stupid romance film.”
“Great, let’s watch it together.” He manoeuvred us so that he sat with his head against my bed frame; my body curled into his with my head on his chest. The steady beating of his heart soothed me, and I clutched onto the hem of his black T-shirt tightly and attempted to steady my breathing.
Will’s murderous threats all but disappeared as I snuggled into Kaleb’s side. One of his hands circled me while the other rested behind his head, the position causing his T-shirt sleeve to roll up, exposing a part of his shoulder.
Colourful ink captured my attention, and I cocked my head. The space on his skin hadn’t been tattooed months ago, and the new artwork intrigued me. But, when I caught sight of a bird’s blue wing spread out—feathers sticking up as wind swirled around the creature—I narrowed my eyes.
“What is that?” I mumbled, nodding towards his shoulder, and Kaleb clicked his tongue, revealing the entire tattoo.
The tattoo of my drawing.
My eyes turned to saucers, and I leaned over him to slide my fingers over the ink. “When did you—“
“I took the sketch out of your pad a while ago.”
“And then you got it tattooed?” I questioned, shock rocketing through my body.
Kaleb had a permanent reminder of me on his body.
“It’s my favourite piece.”
My lips parted as I studied it, gazing up at him with knitted brows. “More than the cobras?”
He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “More than the cobras.”