Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
AUDRY
K illing your father is not an easy thing to do.
It doesn't matter how cruel or sadistic he is, you still remember even the smallest kind of gesture, well just the fact that he gave you a home when you thought you would never have one. The shot that was meant to go into his brain, went into his wrist instead.
In another life I might have been impressed at the accuracy of the shot except he wasn't that far away from me, and he was literally willing me to take the shot. That was another reason for my reluctance. I was done being a pawn in in this man's games. If he wanted to die, he could find a way to do it himself.
Even after I shot him, the expression on his face did not change. He neither looked shocked nor pained. Maybe he was really a Cyborg. That would be comforting. “It's a pity you didn't kill me,” he said to me calmly, “it would have been so poetic. A story to be told for the ages. You would have established yourself as the one to watch.”
Suddenly I was very, very tired. Just done with him still trying to manipulate me. I couldn't even look at Marco. I was too ashamed that he had to witness that. Also, I was embarrassed at what I had done to him in the name of winning a bet. I should never have allowed myself to be pitted against my brother. I had had an awful feeling about it at the time, I hadn't wanted to do it. But then I had thought about being a disappointment to James - how he would look at me - that smile that said, ‘I forgive you, but you have really let me down’. I hated that look, did everything I could to avoid it. And now I knew it was all just part of his games. He trained me to be like this.
What a stupid fool I was.
I felt tears pricking my eyes and quickly blinked them away. The last thing I wanted to do was cry over James Martin. Crying over any man was bad enough, but it definitely was not going to cry over the man who bought me, manipulated me for his own ends, then pointed me like a missile back to my own family just to see what I would do.
I mean who does that?
I dropped the gun on the table. Marco picked it up and placed it back into his holster. He then put his hand on my shoulder and led me out of the room. I went willingly just wanting to be elsewhere - somewhere I didn't have to think about my stepfather or what he had done to me.
Somewhere I could break.
My body was beat to hell and my mind felt like the consistency of oatmeal porridge - just mush. I could barely hold my head up, my spirit was so low. I had no idea how I would get back up from this one.
I could feel my father's eyes on me as we walked past him. He had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped up his wrist. I turned to look at him one last time and saw that he was walking away in the other direction.
It was very poetic really, just how he liked it.
Now that I saw it, it was difficult to unsee. It was as if he was in a play with all of us but he was the only one who had the script. I had no doubt he was not done with me. James Martin does not give up until he gets what he wants.
But he wasn't the only one who could write a play.
As we stepped past the numerous bodies, Marco’s men doing a sweep to make sure they got everybody, I let myself dissociate a little. So it was a bit of a surprise when we stepped out the door and I saw that night had fallen.
“How long was I abducted for?” I asked softly.
Marco's voice rumbled; I could barely hear the words he was saying. But maybe that was because I wasn't totally present. What I did hear was that it was the same day, and it was a relief to me. I wondered vaguely if I had brain damage and if that could be the reason why I had lost track of time. Yegorov had hit me a lot, may his soul burn in hell.
Marco led me to his car, nudging me gently into the passenger seat, and strapping me into my seat belt before getting in the driver's seat.
He paused to have a conversation with someone who was outside the car - I didn't bother to listen or note who he was talking to. It was none of my business, and I preferred to just lean back and close my eyes, running away from the memory of all the physical and mental blows I had taken. It took all my concentration just to do that.
As the car began to move, I opened my eyes watching the scenery pass by. I didn’t recognize the area. I was just as lost as I felt inside. All my life I had been fed a narrative of who I was, and who I wasn't .
Now I wasn't sure any of it was the truth, which left me with a huge gaping hole where my identity used to be. What was a girl to do?
I felt warmth against my fingers and looked down to see that Marco had covered my hand with his. Tears pricked my eyes again and I almost started bawling like a baby. I blinked back the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat, though I did hold on very tightly to Marco’s fingers, my only comfort in the dark.
He didn't have to say anything. I just knew that he would be there for me.
But I was thirty-one years old, and if life had taught me anything, it was to rely only on myself. So, while it was comforting to have him by my side, I knew I would have to build myself back up, brick by brick, alone.