Chapter Thirty-Four
Caius
“I t’s fake,” I say to Dad, voice cold. “Well, at least her part in it is.”
He frowns, studying me intently. “Don’t be naive, Son. You saw it with your own two eyes.”
Yes, I saw the picture he painted for me to see, but I also saw through it.
It’s as if he forgets I’ve been immersed in his twisted world as his favored protege.
“And there’s the issue with her and Doc Junior,” Gideon adds. “Theo wasn’t the only one she was sleeping with.”
The mention of that twat has my eye twitching. It’s nearly impossible to rein in my anger. They’re expertly pushing my buttons and I’m foolishly letting it affect me.
She’s not sleeping with Theo or Doc Junior.
She’s mine.
You can’t fake the adoration she has for me when I’m deep inside her, our eyes locked and souls tangling.
So stop letting them rile you up, dumbass.
“My daughter is troubled,” Gideon explains sadly. “Her mother had mental problems and it’s clear she inherited them from her. It’s in your best interest to distance yourself from the girl. We’ll get her the help she needs. You can go back to your normal life. I’m sorry she’s caused such mayhem.”
I drain the rest of my glass and set it down on the table beside me hard enough I’m surprised I don’t break it. All eyes are on me as I rise to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Dad asks with a frown. “We’ve only just begun to discuss this.”
“I’m sick of this,” I spit out. “The lies. The bullshit. I’m going to see her.”
I’ll find my brother and force him to take me to her.
They have words of protest for me, but I’m no longer interested in indulging them in conversation. I storm out of the living room, passing Eva on the way.
“Find her,” she mouths, bottom lip trembling.
I give her a curt nod. I’m not going to find Romy to satisfy Eva. I’m going to find her because she’s mine and safe with me. If I have her with me, maybe I can think a little more clearly. Everything feels so murky all of a sudden.
The door closes behind me with a soft click. My feet feel heavy. Is it the shoes I changed into? Maybe I drank a little too much without a thing in my stomach to absorb its effects.
I slam a shoulder into the hallway wall and grunt in surprise. Okay, so yeah, I’m definitely inebriated. Stupid. I’d been so pissed, I didn’t control myself, drinking everything that was offered to me.
Offered.
Fuck.
A wave of dizziness washes over me. I stumble across the hallway, crashing into the other wall this time.
I have to get out of here.
The elevator feels like it’s a thousand feet away rather than twenty or so. With sluggish steps, I try to make my way over to it without falling face first to the floor.
Voices echo from behind me.
Shouts of concern? Commands to stop?
I reach the elevators and clumsily mash at the button to call it up. Darkness creeps in my vision. This time when the world spins around me, I miss the wall, landing hard on my knees instead. My chest is tight and feels like it might explode.
Am I having a heart attack?
No, I’ve been drugged.
Fuck.
The last thing I remember before everything going dark is the burn of the carpet tearing at the flesh on my check when I go down with a hard thump.
“I’ll take care of Calista.”
I hate him. I hate him so much. I want to leave and never come back. But what about her? I have to come back for her.
My sister—
The girl staring at me now is not a little girl at all but a grown woman who wears hickeys on her neck. That’s not how this happened. Everything’s all messed up. My brain is mixing up my memories, combining them into something wrong.
Wake up!
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I open my eyes, glad to be out of the twisted dream. I’m not in my bed, though, at the hotel or at home.
At home, I don’t have an oxygen line strapped to my head.
A desperate need to rip it away from my nose consumes me, but my body is completely numb. I can’t move. It’s like I’m so relaxed, my limbs don’t work.
Just my mind.
And it’s going a hundred miles per hour.
I start to panic, which makes my heart race. It takes considerable effort to calm the hell down.
What happened?
Where am I?
I was drugged.
And now I’m in the hospital, unable to move or speak.
My eyes feel heavy and it takes great focus to make them scan the room I’m in. It’s your typical hospital room, so there’s nothing to report.
I need my phone.
I need Romy.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
“You’re not in trouble,” the woman says. “You just haven’t properly dealt with the grief from losing your parents. That’s why you have all that anger inside of you. We’re going to make it all better, hon.”
The social worker who’s been assigned to me speaks as though she cares, but I know I’m a headache for her. Each time she gets me placed in a home that has room for me, she ends up having to pick me back up because I lose my temper in regrettable ways.
It was just a flinch, but I’d seen it.
The foster dad, Rick, was used to asserting dominance over everyone, including his wife. She’d been quick to want to feed me something to make me feel welcome. Her eagerness pissed Rick off. All he’d done was step in her direction, body tensed and full of anger, but she’d flinched in response.
I’d seen his type before.
An abuser.
Rather than waiting to be caught off guard by it, I went on the offense. It was a sucker punch to his kidney, but when I began wailing on his face with both fists, he got to see it up close and personal.
Now I’m going to the crazy home.
All the people here walking around are insane. You can see it in their dead eyes and hear it in their incoherent mumbles.
I wonder how long I’ll be here until they, too, kick me out.
Voices rouse me and I blink my eyes open. Dad stands at the end of my bed, arms crossed over his chest, staring intently at me. I’ve seen the worried look in his eyes before. He’s concerned for my well-being despite being in on what got me here in the first place.
I pin him with an accusatory stare. You did this to me. I’m here because of you.
Gently, he pats my foot over the blanket. “Gave us quite a scare there, Son. I thought I was going to lose two children in the same month.” Grief makes his eyes water, but he quickly blinks it away. “They say you’re not going to die. Looks like we’re finally out of the woods.”
There aren’t any windows or clocks, so I have no idea what time it is. I’m unable to orient myself so that I’m on an even mental playing field as my father.
I hear a chair creak. Then someone steps over to my bed. Theo watches me with a guilt-stricken expression. I’m reminded of the pictures of him kissing and touching Romy. My heart gallops in my chest. If I had the energy, I’d climb out of this bed and knock my fist through his teeth.
The machine makes a soft, rapid beeping sound. Seconds later, a nurse hurries into the room.
“Oops,” she says, flashing me a wide grin. “Looks like I let this stuff wear off. That won’t do.”
She uncaps a syringe and then depresses it into the IV line. I groan, trying to make my lips and tongue work, but nothing comes out. Warm darkness floods back in.
I wake slowly but am able to piece together that I’m still in the hospital. The overhead lights have been turned off and the only light source is coming from a small light behind my bed.
My family isn’t here, which is a good thing. I need to stay calm long enough to figure out how to get out of here. That won’t happen if I alert the nurse like last time.
I take stock of how I’m feeling.
Body still feels as though it’s boneless and I have no power to move it. I’m able to turn my head a little to the right and then to the left. That’s something. Next I try to focus on moving my hands. My fingers twitch but don’t obey my brain’s command.
While I wait to gain function in my body, I try to think about my sister. What does she look like now? Is she living a good life or tangled up with a monster?
I try to imagine what she looks like but come up blank.
Her face is a black hole in my memory.
For some reason, Emma’s face pops in my head. And not the live version of her. The blue, lifeless form that was not coming back from the dead no matter how much CPR was given.
She was so cold.
I barely knew the girl, but she was family.
I’d failed to protect her from Gareth and then she was dead.
My chest aches at the loss.
With her death, I’d been slightly relieved. I didn’t have definitive proof of what I’d thought Gareth was doing to her. It was more of a gut feeling. It was strange to be pleased that she’d never have to deal with him again.
Gareth was furious.
At himself. At me. At Dad. At Theo.
It was everyone’s fault for not keeping an eye on her.
He’d tried to erase the footage of chasing her down the hallway in nothing but his boxers. I watched it over and over, analyzing ever detail. The terror on Emma’s face. The sick, desperate obsession of my brother. A monster chasing his prey.
And then he actually thought he could just adopt another kid like the last one didn’t die because of him and his sickness.
But I saw that glimpse of him. I knew. Deep down, I knew.
I still couldn’t save Kaitlyn.
Despair claws at my chest. I want to curl up in this bed and sleep forever. Maybe then I won’t have to think about all the terrible shit in my life that gets off on haunting me.
Think of something better…
Immediately, my mind goes to her. Romy. Her sweet, plump lips. The cute way she laughs. How soft her hair feels between my fingers. I wasn’t supposed to get wrapped up in that girl, but I did. Now I don’t know how to untangle myself. It’s impossible.
I want to see her.
If I can get out of this bed, I can find her.
Get. Up.
My body remains sprawled out, my fingers barely twitching in response.
Where have they put her? What are they doing to her?
Pain claws at my chest. I fucking miss her. I wish I woke up with her ass pressed against my cock, sleeping soundly, safe in my arms.
Someone softly knocks on the door and then enters. It’s the same nurse as before. She darts her gaze over my body and chuckles.
“Someone’s been having a nice dream,” she says, playfully patting my shoulder. “Behave. You’re supposed to be relaxing, hon.”
It’s then I realize I’m hard.
Just thinking about Romy sends my cock into a frenzy.
“Don’t worry,” the nurse assures me. “I’m going to help you get back to those good dreams.”
No.
I manage to slur out a word of protest. It falls on deaf ears. Seconds later, heat rushes into my vein, and blissful darkness chases reality away.