Chapter 16 A Killer Confession
sixteen
a killer confession
Hitch
Having left Fallon and War in the woods behind the town hall commons, I rushed to find Brady, who needed help with Julian.
It wasn't the first time I'd been called to Brady's aid; he was often unsure of himself.
I'd never pictured him as a father figure.
He never seemed the type to want kids, so when I learned about Nina's murder and Julian's existence, I was, to say the least, stunned.
I'd always thought neither Fallon nor her brother would be parents.
Fallon was always too consumed by whatever she set her mind to, and Brady just seemed to enjoy his single life too much.
During the time Julian was born, Fallon and I weren't on speaking terms, due to a rift caused by a falling out that had almost cost me the one thing I truly wanted—Fallon.
At that point, she was working for Foley, and after what I'd done to her, I avoided her at all costs.
Before then, I'd heard whispers about Fallon and Foley, but I knew she'd never willingly be with someone so.
.. vile, so I dismissed them. So, I was entirely surprised when I heard it from Foley himself.
What I didn't know was the truth... and it would take years for me to figure it out.
The day Fallon let me back into her life, I could tell what I'd heard was true, but she never confirmed it.
I didn't need her to. I knew just from the look on her face whenever I mentioned his name.
I wanted her to tell me on her own terms, but I was growing fucking impatient.
After helping Brady calm Julian down from a horrific night terror, we sat in the living room in front of the fire, sharing a bottle of peppermint schnapps.
He had a vacant look in his eyes every time I looked at him, and I could tell he was carrying a heavy burden.
Brady was just like his sister, full of secrets and always tight-lipped.
It was like pulling fucking teeth trying to get either one to open up.
It was as if they worked for the CIA or something.
I fucking hated it, but having grown up with them, I was used to it.
I didn't like it, but I'd learned to live with it.
"What happened between you and Fallon?" Brady asked out of the blue, and I knew exactly what he was referring to.
But, of course, I played dumb. "What do you mean?" I asked, feigning confusion and trying to buy time.
"You know damn well what I fucking mean, Hitch," Brady spat, his eyes narrowed, his brows pinching together in anger.
It was time to come clean about what I'd done, and I wasn't thrilled. My stomach churned, knowing I was about to say those words, and to her brother of all people. I'd never felt so low, but I knew the moment would come eventually.
"Listen, Brady, it's complicated," I said, taking the coward's way out, unable to meet his eyes as I took another swig from the half-empty bottle.
"Don't give me that 'it's complicated' bullshit!" He screamed, spit flying from the corners of his mouth as he clenched his teeth. "You fucking hurt her, I know it! She has never been the same!"
I sat frozen, guilt stealing my voice, making it impossible to speak. I shook my head and then hung it in defeat, knowing it was time to confess what I'd done to Fallon all those years ago.
"Relax, Brady. Relax," I muttered, taking another sip, wanting to be as drunk as possible to get through my confession. "I'll tell you," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper as I took another swig.
Silence fell over the room, the crackling flames of the fireplace taunting me.
I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes, reliving the moment I'd ruined things between Fallon and me.
My heart raced as I tried to force the words out, but they wouldn't come.
Panic rose until Fallon's image flashed behind my closed eyelids, somehow making it easier to speak.
"It was back when she was in school, I think graduating," I began, still whispering. "We were at a party, and we were both drunk, like, really drunk... not that I'm trying to use that as an excuse," I paused, opening one eye and looking at Brady.
"Sure as hell sounded like you were," he snapped, snatching the bottle from my hand.
"Anyway," I coughed as I pulled out a joint. "I don't know if you knew how much I fucking wanted your sister," I admitted for the first time, and it felt strangely freeing.
"I knew. You always denied it, but I knew. I could tell by the way you looked at her." Brady gave me a stern look, a smile hiding beneath his scowl.
"Yeah, well, I was obsessed with her, not gonna lie. And that night, she had just broken up with that dick boyfriend of hers, and I just wanted to be there for her. We talked alone in one of the spare bedrooms for hours, and..." I paused, knowing what was coming next.
I felt sick again and sat up with my eyes wide open, hanging my head in shame.
I could feel Brady's eyes on me. I could already tell he knew what I was about to say.
Knowing him, he just needed to hear the truth from me to confirm what he already knew.
I knew it wouldn't be easy, telling Brady I'd taken advantage of his sister, but it needed to be said.
It needed to be out in the open so we could all begin to heal.
"Hitch," Brady warned, his voice deep, threatening, and low—very low.
"Brady, I'm sorry, man." I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through the panic.
"Fucking say it, Hitch. Tell me what you did," Brady demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"I took advantage of her being drunk," I finally admitted aloud, but I knew he wanted to hear it all.
So I continued, digging my nails into the skin of my palms. "I fucked her, Brady, and I didn't—at the time—give two fucks how drunk she was, or how many times she asked me to stop.
I wanted her. I fucking loved her and I'd been waiting for that moment for a long time.
I was selfish and evil, but my drunken ass didn't care.
" I held my breath as the last words slipped from my mouth.
As I turned my head to look at Brady, his fist connected with my jaw, jerking my head back and making my eyes water instantly. He was on top of me before I knew it, and I laid there and took each punch because I knew I deserved them.
"You fucking raped her, Hitch!" he screamed, his fists pummeling into my face. “Fucking say it!”
I felt like I was going to puke. That word alone made my stomach turn, but deep down, I knew that's exactly what I'd done. It didn't matter how I tried to describe it; I had raped Fallon, plain and simple. And now I was finally facing the consequences.
“I raped her, Brady,” I whispered, so fucking ashamed of myself.
But I didn't try to defend myself or my actions.
I let Brady unleash all his rage on me, the blows landing with a sickening thud.
The taste of blood filled my mouth, mixing with the peppermint schnapps.
Each punch was a reminder of the pain I'd inflicted on Fallon, the agony I'd caused. I deserved every single fucking one.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Brady pulled back, his chest heaving, his knuckles swollen and bloody, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and sorrow. He scrambled off me, his breaths ragged. He looked at me with a raw, primal hatred that mirrored my own self-loathing.
"Get out," he spat, his voice hoarse, "Get the fuck out of my house."
I didn't argue. I pushed myself up, my body aching, my face a mess. I didn't try to wipe the blood from my lip. I just nodded, got to my feet, and stumbled towards the door.
As I reached the threshold, I turned back to look at Brady. He was sitting on the floor, his back against me, staring into the flames in the fireplace. His face was a mask of grief, a reflection of the damage I had done; he looked defeated.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words barely audible.
I knew the apology was worthless, but I had to say it.
He didn't respond. He didn't even look at me.
I turned my back on him and the past and put my hand on the doorknob, fully prepared to walk out of his house and never see him or Fallon again.
But what he said next stopped me, and I froze with my forehead pressed against the door while I tried to focus on my breathing.
"Foley raped her, Hitch," Brady whispered, his voice filled with pain.
Rage burned within me, turning my insides to a fucking inferno.
I tried so hard to keep my composure, but I knew at any moment there was a high percentage that I was going to fucking explode.
I turned back around to see Brady looking at me, tears running down his face as he grasped the alcohol bottle like it was his anchor—something to keep him grounded in the storm that was about to hit us hard.
We looked at each other square in the eyes, and I knew in my gut that he wasn't done spilling secrets.
I re-entered the living room and sat beside him on the floor, the fire warming my back.
I snatched the bottle out of his hand and chugged it, not worrying about the burn or the overload taste of peppermint.
Brady reached up to the end table and pulled down a picture frame, staring at a Christmas picture of him, Julian, and Fallon.
I leaned in and looked over his shoulder, studying the image as hard as he was, trying to figure out what he was looking so intently at.
I followed Brady's eyes and noticed he was staring at his sister, which made me feel guilty all over again, but I stared too—hard—and suddenly noticed something I hadn't realized before.