19 | Mike
Mike
I WALK INTO THE BASEMENT, leaving Nate in the same spot on the floor beside the door.
I am grateful for the fact that he isn’t following me down here.
This is something I need to do alone. I take a chair and sit in front of the woman.
My mother. I remove her gag so she can speak.
She doesn’t make a sound when I reach for her or when it’s out of her mouth. She doesn’t move to avoid my touch.
I have so many questions for her, but I doubt any will be answered.
One thing I know for sure is that she is not going to walk out of this basement alive.
But this kill is mine alone. Liam might want her alive, which I expect to be an issue.
However, this is not a situation that concerns only him, and I went through hell because she chose to give me away.
She is as responsible as any of them. I am not letting her leave this house breathing.
Liam can fight me; I don’t give a damn. She is going to pay.
And honestly, his life wasn’t much better.
Even with his damn morality on the line, I am sure he would want some type of revenge—or at least a reason.
“Hello, Mary,” I say, my voice cold, but polite because I need her to answer my questions.
I am not fool enough to test her willingness to answer by showing any type of threat, but I am not going to show any signs of empathy either, because I don’t have any in me.
Even if I did, this woman doesn’t deserve it.
“Are you Mike?” she asks with hesitation, and I nod.
“Where is Amelia? Where is George?” she asks with a tremor in her voice.
She continues talking as if she has the right—as if she controls the situation.
This woman is delusional. She is the one being held in a basement, yet she speaks as if she has any right to address me.
“They will explain everything. Please, let them explain. You wouldn’t believe anything I say if they don’t. ”
I chuckle. “They are both dead. I killed them both!”
Because both Amelia, my late mother, and George, Liam’s shit of a father, have rotted underground for years now. I made sure of it. I made sure they took everything they deserved, and this woman will too.
Her eyes grow dark and tears fill them, but she shakes her head like she is coming to terms with her own fate.
“I will tell you my story if you want to hear it. I know I am probably not walking out of here alive, and I am fully prepared for this. I knew you would come knocking on my door someday. Maybe not in this way, but I always knew I would have to tell you the truth. Might as well, if it’s the last thing I do,” she tells me.
“How do you know you aren’t stepping away with your life?” I question, out of curiosity.
“You kidnapped me in the middle of the night, threw me into a maze, and told me to run for my life. I am not a fool, Mike. I know the only reason I am still breathing is because I recognized Liam. I don’t know how I know, but I have a feeling this wasn’t on purpose.
You didn’t kidnap me because I’m your biological mother; fate brought you to my front door.
But I do know this wasn’t your first attempt at that weird game of hunt you forced me to participate in.
I could tell from the way you all talked that night.
” She shakes her head in disappointment.
“Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe what you have become is on me and my choices,” she mumbles, as if she is trying to win sympathy points. She won’t.
“You are correct. This wasn’t our first game, and you were just another victim—until you weren’t.”
I cut her free from the restraints and help her to the couch we have down here.
I give her a bottle of water and a blanket.
She receives this as an act of kindness.
I am doing it to make sure she keeps talking.
Not every act of kindness is honest; sometimes, like this one, it’s a well-designed manipulation tactic to make you cooperate.
“Amelia was my older sister, our older brother’s favorite, and our parents’ pride and joy.
She was the good student, the polite one, and I was always the failure.
Even though we had a two-year age difference, we could have been twins.
We looked like it, too.” She speaks to me, her eyes focused on the stairs the entire time.
It is clear to me that this is not her first rodeo; she has been in situations like this before.
She is checking her surroundings with the caution of a woman who knows how to survive.
She won’t survive this time, though. She watches her back, even though she doesn’t expect to live. Smart woman—that’s where Liam gets it.
I stay silent, forcing myself to focus on her words. It’s important to know her story from her own mouth. We need to know the truth, because Liam will need something to ease the regret of her death, even if her blood stains my hands alone.
“She was good to everyone but me, my sister, and I was the invisible child no one cared about. Not that this should be an excuse—it isn’t one.
But my parents never cared, and my brother always took her side, which made it easy for me to land with the wrong crowd.
The misfits of our school. The people everyone avoided were the people I chose to call family, almost. Friends I thought wanted the best for me.
This couldn’t be further from the truth, though...
While my brother was the star of the football team and my sister was the popular cheerleader everyone envied, I was always the disappointment.
The black dot in their perfect family portrait. ”
Her words sting—not because I feel pity for her, because I don't. Not because it hurts me that she suffered, because it doesn't. They sting because I know this all too well. I know it from both sides. Liam, Nate, and I were the people she is describing, but that wasn’t always the case.
We worked to get to the top, and when we got there, we made them pay with blood and tears.
She continues telling me her story. “I was sixteen when I started dating my drug dealer. I was into every type of drug I could get my hands on and spent my time partying. I was already the bad child; there was no need for me to pretend I was better than that. When I found out I was pregnant, I went to Amelia. I asked her to help me. She told my brother, and later my parents. They all collectively decided it was best for my brother, who was already engaged, to take the baby after I gave birth.”
She stops for a moment before continuing.
“I didn’t try to fight them as hard as I should have.
I didn’t try to do anything when the ultrasound showed twins, and they declared that the other baby would be raised by my sister, who was already on her way to college and set to live a good life.
I thought I was giving you a better life, if I’m being honest. I thought they knew better than I did what was best for you. ”
I notice a tear falling on her cheek, and I try to keep my distance. I don’t need to get attached to this woman. She is as good as dead, no matter how sad her story is.
“When I gave birth to you, I tried to change their minds. They took you away, not even letting me hold you for a second, despite my pleas. I wished to just see you for one minute, but I was denied. My stitches weren’t even healed when they shipped me away to private school right after I gave birth, and I spent every day from that moment getting my act together.
I graduated from school with good grades, went to college, and then later to university.
By the time I was done, I had met my ex-husband, and I was ready to finally meet you.
My parents were dead, and my siblings refused to return my calls. ”
When she finally finishes her story, I can tell she is done.
She has nothing more to say. She closes her eyes, her head falling back against the couch cushion as she drifts off to sleep.
She looks exhausted, as if she were using the last bit of energy in her body to give me all the information that seemed important to her.
But that didn’t answer many of the things I needed to know.
And I don’t think I will ever get those answers.