Chapter Fifty-Six
Quinn - Six Months Later
Betrayal - Warren Zeiders
Today is one of the final steps in my road to recovery.
Visiting my childhood home and having a conversation with my dad.
There’s been no communication since the day he dropped me at the hospital.
Since then, he’s lost everything. But he has a chance to redeem himself and maybe recreate a life with his only remaining daughter.
He has no idea I was involved in what happened with my mum and Eric; there was no evidence I was a part of it anyway.
I lift my hand to knock on the door and listen for the sounds on the other side of it.
“Who is it?” A muffled voice from the other side of the door asks.
“It’s me. Quinn.”
The door is quickly unlatched, and I’m met with the face of my dad. He looks healthy.
“Pumpkin?”
The sound of my favourite childhood nickname on his tongue has my feet almost giving way, and he runs to catch me.
We collapse in a heap on the doorstep with Bones behind me, watching and waiting for any hint of my father upsetting me.
I cry into the shoulder of my dad. The man who always promised to protect me.
Since that night with Eric, he’s been more hands-on with Lulu and the shop. I think it awoke something inside of him that sees me in every person he saves. Since figuring out we were each other's childhood sweethearts, we’ve learnt more and more about each of our pasts.
It’s been a rough ride of heartbreak, trauma and healing. But I can honestly say for the first time in my life, I feel almost healed. This is the last piece to my fucked-up puzzle.
After a few minutes, my cries have become sniffles, and he pulls away. “I think it’s time for me and you to have a chat, don’t you?” I nod.
“Before I come in, I need to introduce you to someone. This is—”
“Harley, yes, I know who he is.”
“How?”
“Once Eric had died, Keelan came round. He’s kept me up-to-date on things he felt like I should know, but nothing that would betray a boundary of anything you’ve confided in him.”
I got back in touch with Keelan in between my mum and Eric dying. I wanted to see where his loyalties lay in regard to his friends. It turns out, I needn’t have worried, because if I hadn’t done it, he was already planning to.
He’s since come on board at The Trident and is earning his keep helping us put the abusers away. Whether that be in prison or otherwise.
“I figured he may do that. I know I wrote to you after Mum died, but I just haven’t been ready to see you. I had things I had to deal with first. Things that you now need to know about.” He nods glumly.
“I’ve waited for this day for so long. I have no expectations from you. I will listen to what you have to say; the only thing I ask is that, in return, you listen to what I have to say, too.”
“I think that’s a fair trade. Harley must be present, though. I don’t feel comfortable being alone with you yet.”
Shame covers his face, and I feel bad. “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s not you. I’ve just worked really hard to get to where I’m at, and he knows I’ll put myself in situations I’m not comfortable with in order to get answers. If he’s around, he knows I’ll use my safe word when I need to.”
“That makes sense.” He reaches out a hand for Harley to shake and for a second, I’m not sure if it’s going to be welcomed.
He has a preconceived notion of my father.
He believes he was also a victim, but suspicion, where I’m concerned, will always be his go-to reaction.
He lost me once. He’s not prepared to lose me again.
He shakes my dad’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Well, I hope what you’ve heard won’t stop you from giving me a chance to show you the real Kirk. A man my daughter has yet to meet.”
Hope flows through my veins at the prospect of finally having the dad I’ve waited for my whole life.
It’s just a shame my mother and brother had to die in order for us both to be free.
But I suppose that’s the problem with narcissists: it doesn’t matter the distance you put between you and them or the walls you erect to keep you safe, they never let you go.
My dad bustles around the kitchen making us drinks as we find a seat in the living room.
It looks totally different. The inside of the house has been torn to shreds and redecorated like they never lived here before.
“I wanted every trace of both of them gone. So that’s what I did.
Your room is still the same. Though, I would imagine there aren’t many happy memories there for you. ”
I shake my head. “Not really.” I sit there second-guessing every word that pops into my head, unsure of how to bring this up. “So, the question is, how much did you actually know?”
“Not much. After I got the news of your mum, I ended up in the hospital with a suspected heart attack. It turned out that for the majority of our marriage she had been drugging me. A little bit here and a little bit there had contributed to an addiction of sorts, and when she died, the side effects of the withdrawals of the medications caused me to have a heart attack.”
I’m not shocked. “The irony.”
He looks at me, puzzled. “She spent the entirety of my life shoving meds down my throat and telling me I had all of these problems. Then after my accident, when I did have a problem, she withheld the medication and left me to suffer. Dosing me up on hallucinogens instead.” His expression changes to one of horror.
“Did you know about your son, his best friend and my best friend raping me?”
“No, I didn't until after he died. Keelan told me. But, please don’t call him my son.”
“But that’s what he was.”
My dad shakes his head. “Actually, no, he wasn’t.
When you were younger, your mother had an affair with one of the previous neighbours.
She found out she was pregnant and passed it off as mine.
It wasn’t until after he was born and I tried to get involved in his care that she threw in my face that he wasn’t my child. ”
“Well, that makes a lot of sense, I suppose. It was always them two versus everyone else. It didn’t matter what either of us did; we were never going to be good enough to be accepted into their circle.
” My mind is empty. I have no thoughts. I expected everything he has said so far.
Maybe not Eric not being his son, but I suppose when you compare him and my mother, and me and my father, in hindsight, it’s kind of obvious.
“You said about what they did to you. Do you know when it happened?”
I shake my head. “I don’t remember details of the attacks other than what I saw on footage that Keelan showed me.
Once Eric figured out he had told me, they tried to kill me by throwing me in front of that car and trying to stage an attempted suicide.
When I survived, my amnesia was a pro for them and a way to easily control me. ”
“Where are Dane and Millie?”
“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies,” I say.
“I won’t ask the questions. But if you do ever want to tell me, please believe me when I say I wish I had been the one to deal with your mother and brother.
Once the haze had lifted and I began to see the truth, the rage bubbled inside of me until I was heading down a path of destruction that would have ended in me not being here for this conversation. ”
“I’m glad that you are. I’m still hurt. And there will be some residual anger for a while until we have talked things through more, but I believe you’re capable of redeeming yourself. I’d really like to see if we can have the relationship I always dreamed of.”
“I’d do anything to have my pumpkin back in my life.” Tears flood down his cheeks as sobs rack his chest. “I’m so sorry, Pumpkin. I wish I’d seen it sooner.”
I reach for his hands. “There is no point living with regrets. All regrets will do is depress you and keep you in a state of perpetual hell.” He nods.
“I’ve made a life. I have some amazing people in it, and together we’re doing amazing things for survivors of abuse. I’d never have done any of that if you hadn’t dropped me off at that place and never looked back.”
“I tried to come back for you. Once we were home, I overheard them talking about the kind of place it really was. She put me in bed for days, and by the time I was well enough, you had disappeared. But I have something for you.”
He walks over to the unit in the corner of the living room and pulls out a manila envelope.
“This is for you.” He hands it over to me, and I open it, pouring the contents onto the coffee table.
The first piece of paper is documentation to sever the power of attorney agreement, putting me back in charge of any decisions regarding my health and wellbeing.
The second piece of paper is a cheque for ￡250,000. “What’s this money from?”
“It’s not from her life insurance, don’t worry.
I gave most of that to a charity that helps abuse survivors flee their homes.
When you were younger, I opened a secret account for you.
Every month I added money in, and the interest just kept adding up.
Every year I would transfer it into a different account and build it up more and more.
I know you said you’ve made a life for yourself, but at least put this in an account to continue to build for your future children. ”
“That’s presumptuous of you.” My fertility has become a sensitive subject.
After witnessing my periods and how they wiped me out, Bones forced me to the doctors, and I was diagnosed with insulin-resistant PCOS.
I’m bouncing around different specialists looking for answers with no idea what’s going to happen next.
But at least I have an explanation, I suppose.
Just a shame it took over a decade. The unknown of whether I’ll be able to carry a baby or have a family is terrifying and something I’ve struggled with.
Bones, as always, has taken it in his stride and loved me no matter what.