Chapter 18 Kit
KIT
If Mum or Lucien feel the tension that’s made itself at home at our dinner table, they don’t let on.
Mum picks at her Greek salad as usual, plucking out the feta, the olives, and even the tomatoes until she might as well have dished up a plate of cucumber.
Meanwhile, Lucien relishes his meal, smashing the crumbly cheese with his crispy roll in a self-satisfied manner.
Putting your only child out on the street must be hungry work.
My food sits untouched, the punch of red onions making my stomach churn. At least I have a glass of wine to keep me company.
Fuck, I can’t stand this. How can we all sit here like there isn’t a gaping hole right beside us?
Does mum know what’s happened? Does Lucien even care?
My head is flitting between bouts of terror that I’m next on the chopping block and complete indignation on Damian’s behalf.
My knee jumps uncontrollably under the table, sending undulating ripples through my wine until I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Where’s Damian?” I ask, aiming for casual but somehow falling short and shouting the question across the table.
I watch as Lucien calmly tears another strip from his bread roll and sends a spray of crumbs into his salad. “The time has come for Damian to find his own way in the world. He moved out this afternoon before you both arrived home.”
Lucien breaks the news like one might comment on the weather.
Factual, light, and completely devoid of emotion.
Who is this guy? Where is the father who worked hard to give Damian and me everything we could ever need, who would stop at nothing to make sure we were not only happy, but thriving?
There have been times over the past four years that I’ve slipped up and called him Dad, because that’s who he’s been to me.
He treated me no differently than his own son, and that makes this cold, detached version of Lucien even more terrifying.
Mum startles at the news, and part of me sags in relief. She might not be the most intuitive mother, but at least she wasn’t a part of this. “Has something happened, darling?” she asks, wiping her lips needlessly with her napkin. “I thought the boys were going to stay here until they graduated.”
“No, nothing’s happened, Leah,” Lucien coos, reaching over to pat Mum’s hand.
Before today, I might have found the act nauseating, but tonight I wonder if the gesture is genuine, or a ruse to distract Mum from what’s happening right under her nose.
“I just thought it was time for Damian to make something of himself before finishing university. He can’t rely on me forever, and this will give him a taste of the real world before he needs to start making his mark. ”
Mum nods thoughtfully as if this all makes sense, as if I’m not sitting here at the exact same fucking age as my stepbrother.
“And what about me?” I hate how my hands shake in my lap, but I have to know. I have to understand why Damian has been cast out, and I haven’t.
“What about you, Kit?” Lucien asks softly, as if speaking to a timid child.
“Well, Damian and I are in the same year at the same university,” I remind him carefully. “Do I have to go out to find my way, too?”
“Oh, what a great idea,” Mum agrees while reaching for her wineglass. “Kit should learn some independence, too. He’s been so sheltered here with us. The boys should be spreading their wings and making their mistakes while they can, not stuck here with their parents.”
Mum bats her lashes at her husband, positively glowing at the prospect of an empty nest.
“No,” Lucien snaps, narrowing his eyes at my mother.
“Kit will stay here with us until he finishes his course, as we agreed. Some young people need a gentle push in the right direction, like Damian. He’d have let the grass grow under his feet if given the chance.
Whereas others need guidance and nurturing to bloom into who they’re meant to be. That’s our Kit.
“He’s too precious and his talents too special to be squashed by the pressures of real life just yet. No, Kit will be here with us, Leah, so we can keep him untouched by the world a little longer.”
Thoroughly put out, Mum downs the contents of her glass and slams it on the table. Lucien pretends not to notice and turns back to his fancy salad.
My unease grows, not only at the callous reason behind Damian’s banishment, but also why I’m allowed to stay.
Lucien called me precious, special, someone untouched by the harsh reality of life outside these privileged walls.
And that’s how he’s always treated me, right?
Spoilt me rotten, often at the expense of his own son.
And that feels… off. I don’t know how I’m only just seeing it.
It’s like Damian’s heartbreak has snapped the rose-tinted glasses I’ve been wearing for so long.
Now, it’s the thought of staying here without him that has me frightened.
I’d give up every home comfort, every private dance class or elaborate pole just to exist next to him.
I vow to myself that as soon as Damian finds a place, I’ll move in with him, parental approval be damned.
“I think I’m going to turn in,” I announce with a forced smile on my face. “I’ve got a bit of a headache coming.”
“Not again, Kit. Do you want me to bring you some pills?” Mum asks, her tone a strange mix of begrudging concern. Maybe I’ll take her shopping this weekend, an apology of sorts for stepping on her toes.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be back to normal after a hot shower and an early night.” I lean down to kiss Mum’s cheek and extend a half-hearted wave to my stepfather. “Night, everyone.”
I take the stairs as quickly as I dare while pretending to suffer a migraine.
It feels like I’m walking through treacle, my steps laboured and effortful, leading to a destination that’s lost its shine now there’s no chance of Damian bursting in to tell me a joke or to bully me into playing with him.
Even my pole looks dull under my warm spotlights tonight.
I collapse on my bed, my head spinning as it tries to catch up with what’s happened.
How the hell can things have changed so fast?
Last night, I was giving myself to my boyfriend for the first time, and now, I’m further away from him than I’ve been in years.
I mull over my options, debating how long I need to wait before I can follow Damian, and how much of my room I can feasibly take with me.
Because I can’t stay here. Even with Lucien’s insistence, tonight I feel like a stranger in the place I’ve come to call home. The house feels empty, cold, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, petrified by the terse silence resonating through the empty shell.
But it’s not just the loss of Damian that’s putting me on edge. It’s the artificial homeliness, the frigid pretence that his absence has revealed. Has our family always existed in this manufactured bubble, or has something changed?
Whatever the answer, tonight my eyes are wide open, and I don’t like what I’m seeing.
Unease seeps into my bones as I look around my perfect room, touching every beloved trinket and treasured photo until my attention falls to the solid door that separates me from my family.
Lucien and I coated it with white chalk paint last year, and ruined my carpet so badly that we had to pick out a new one.
For the first time since moving into the Hansel household, I find something that I desperately need but don’t have. The realisation has bile rising in my throat. How have I never noticed it before? How could I have been so blind?
Because my room is missing something that everyone else in the house has…
My door is the only one without a lock.