11. Elijah
ELIJAH
“ Y ou’ll have to come home eventually, your mom will miss you.
” I’m not beneath using Rain to get this little fucker back here.
My kid hasn’t lived with us for years, and his mother thought it would be best if we built him his own place within the family compound.
As his home was being built, Blaise moved into a rental in town and never left.
None of us liked him outside of these walls, but the kid's skull is as thick as this bat, and I knew he wasn’t going to listen.
Calling his phone again, it goes straight to voicemail.
“I’ll fucking cut you off. You’ll have no money and no house outside our walls.
You will have to move back here, you remember, right?
It’s the house you refuse to fucking live in because you are an ungrateful shit.
” Throwing the phone, it bounces off the couch and I can feel my body filling with anger.
Since the one time with Rain, many years ago, my kid has been the only one capable of bringing me to the brink of a complete rage-induced blackout.
“What now?” Rain, who is very annoyed, asks. The tension within our family makes her feel things other than happiness, and that’s what gets to me the most. But once Blaise and I get going, we don’t stop, pushing each other’s buttons to the maximum in order to watch the other explode.
“He knew that diseased cunt was cheating on our kid. He would watch her. He fucking recorded it and left the VHS for Sid to find,” I seethe in disgust. If you can’t trust your family, who can you trust? Then again, our family history isn’t one to reference in this instant.
We killed my cousin, then my uncle. And this was all after I made my mom burn herself alive, and we fucked over Rain’s birth father’s dead body… Because we killed him too.
Rain’s hands cover her face, she can’t speak but her head shakes.
Walking up to my beautiful girl, I bring my lips close to her ear, and whisper, “I’m fixing it.” And this time, she doesn’t stop me.
Whether or not I do what I am implying, that is still up in the air, but to not plead with me to stop makes me feel like this could be a test. It’s too good to be true.
My eyes shift, though I don’t question it, and instead, I slowly step backward, reaching for my baseball bat, which is leaning against the island, and leave .
Once outside, I howl into the sky, “Daddy is coming to play!”
Before I am able to get into the Range, I see my dad standing at the edge of his driveway, looking over at me.
“If you kill him, it may be the one thing you regret, son.” Dad is always full of wisdom and shit, but I work on impulse and instinct.
I nod, letting him know I heard but will not listen.
Because my kid is going to regret the day he was ever born.
Pulling up to the rental, it’s a townhouse just off Main Street.
It’s an average-looking three-story narrow townhouse.
I called Thomas on the drive over, and he’s now standing on the sidewalk in a pair of shorts, slide-on sandals, and a black tee holding his machete.
He knows better than to meet me without it.
Getting out of the Range, Thomas nervously questions, “Boss. What are we doing here?”
“Ah, Tommy boy! What a beautiful day to be alive, isn’t it?” I say sarcastically. And I hope to fuck he doesn’t answer.
His eyes widen nervously, a brow arches, and he takes one step backward. I watch him closely then laugh into the sky. Motherfucker thinks I’m going to kill him.
Fuck yes, I still got it.
Walking closer to him, I narrow my eyes, rub my tongue against my sharp, exposed fangs, and then tilt my head. I stop just as our toes meet, my bat spinning. It’s like I’m ready to hit a home fucking run. I then whisper, “My son. Not you, dumbass.”
With a trembling breath, a sigh of relief washes over my protégé.
“This is as good of an idea as your dead body mushroom growing business, boss.” Thomas sarcastically loves to rub that one in my face.
No one wanted to eat my mushrooms that I grew off dead bodies at the farm.
However, I did. I ate mushrooms for weeks until I couldn’t stand them anymore.
Then Dad fucking insisted on the body farm being removed once summer was in full bloom.
Apparently flesh rotting from defrosting was not something he wanted to look at every day while in his office.
By the time I finally got around to removing our new pals, Brad’s eyes had begun to melt out of his droopy face.
I kept the eyes, and I hide them in Greta’s room when I get bored and wait for her to notice them and freak the fuck out.
The worst time was when I glued them to her bathroom mirror, at her eye level.
Rain cut me off from the sweet well that is her pussy for three days. I nearly died.
“My son has been a very bad boy for a very long time. And I’ve had about enough of his shit.”
“Wow. I know you two have had your differences, but he’s your blood.”
Now he understands how serious I am.
“Exactly. And he betrayed his blood. It’s time he learns the consequences of his actions. ”
Walking past Thomas and up the paved path, I lift my boot-clad foot and kick in the door. “Daddy’s here!” I shout into the townhouse.
I wait for a response, or any commotion, but silence greets me. I nod my head, and Thomas moves in front of me. “If you see him, capture and restrain,” I instruct.
Rushing up the stairs, two at a time, I dent the drywall with my bat the entire way up.
“You can’t hide from me, motherfucker,” I taunt, hoping to coax him out. But it doesn’t seem to work. Pussy.
I check the bedrooms, closets, and bathrooms, then head to the third level. Opening the attic latch, stairs slide down and I crawl up them. Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I examine the hot dry space full of insulation and dust. No Blaise.
Letting out a monstrous roar, I wonder, where is he?
“He isn’t here,” Thomas so obviously points out, shouting from the main level.
Shouting back down, I give further instructions, “Destroy the place. Everything. He fucked with my kid and your next Diablo.” I pause, could someone be hiding him from me?
“If we find out someone is aiding him, burn them down and destroy everything they love. And bring me him alive. He’s mine!”
“Understood,” Thomas responds between the loud crashing of dishes falling to the floor. I start with the attic stairs, completely tearing them off their hinges, then throwing them through the wall. Next, I storm into his bedroom. His bed is the first thing to catch my eye.
Jumping on top of it, I whip my dick out and piss on it.
A large yellow wet spot begins to form, thus destroying his sheets, mattress, and box spring.
Once done, I shake off and tuck myself back in.
Adding a couple holes in the drywall with my bat, I push his dresser over before heading downstairs to Thomas, who I catch mid-slash to a pillow with his machete.
“Well done, Tommy boy!” He’s never been one to disappoint me, and consistent reassurance, helps keep it that way. He smiles, finishing slashing the pillow before turning to face me with the biggest grin on his face.
“Thank you.”
Confused, I question, “For what?”
“This. Letting out my stresses or frustration on this house. It feels so fucking good.”
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I squeeze it. “Everything I do, I do it for you.”
Thomas’s eyes well with tears and I am now incredibly uncomfortable. Emotions are Rain's department, not mine. Reaching for my phone, I call her immediately and put it on speaker. I hear her pick up, but I'm able to interject before she says anything.
“He’s going to cry.”
Rain laughs. “Thomas. You okay, buddy?”
He sniffles, whipping his nose. “Elijah said… Ev erything he does is for me. And it’s about the nicest thing I have ever heard him say to me.”
I burst out laughing as Rain mumbles, “You motherfucker.” She knows exactly what I’ve done.
“Thomas, he heard this song playing one day and uses that line on people. He did it to Sid first, then me. We all slowly caught on. It’s his go-to phrase if he wants to fuck with you and make you feel good.
Remember… Elijah is an asshole. That will never change.
” She speaks to him the entire time like he is in first grade, making this even more funny to me.
Rain then begins to reassure him with some concern.
“In his own way, he cares about you, but you know he would never get deep, right, Thomas?”
His face is red, fist clenched, and his machete falls to his feet.
Thomas is going to clock me.
Relaxing my face, I wait for the impact but instead he gets me right in the balls. A loud yelp escapes me as I fall to the ground. The phone beats me down and my bat rolls alongside of me. Rain is howling on the other end and through squinted eyes, I see Thomas smirking.
Through gritted teeth and stinging balls, I rasp, “I’m killing you next.” Even though I am wildly impressed with the balls on this guy for following through with what he just did to me.
“No, you're not. He is your only friend,” Rain retorts through the phone, then she adds quickly before hanging up, “Thomas, you better get out of there before he can stand. Bye, boys. ”
He takes her advice, snatching his machete then leaving me in a state of pathetic misery. They did me a favor, as it’s only giving me more time to plot my traitor of a kid’s death. Slow, painful, and full of cries and screams.
Blaise is not a Sinclair. The name no longer wants him, and neither do we.