Chapter 33 #3
He swears, but I allow myself a little glimmer of hope.
Two days.
Maybe we’ll get to Piper before Coltello does. Maybe there’s still something I can do to save her. I sit up a little straighter in my seat.
“Where are we going?” I ask cautiously. “Back to Astley?”
“Fuck no.” Dad lets out a colorless laugh. “Idaho. We’re going to fucking Idaho. Can you fucking believe it? What the fuck is there even to do in fucking Idaho?”
“I’ve heard it’s scenic,” I mutter.
My lips twist into the tiniest of smirks as I repeat the word Logan had used to describe our road trip to Oregon.
Somehow, I’m feeling a little less desperate.
My weakness may have prevented me from killing Dad, but it’s a good thing after all.
He’s bringing me to where Piper is. Now, I just need to focus on making sure we get there before Coltello somehow.
I tense with resolve, but startle when Josh suddenly speaks.
“Uhm… Mr. Nelson?”
I was so focused on what Dad was saying that I hadn’t noticed him sitting up. He’s staring at Dad in a somewhat unfocused way.
What the hell is he doing? Why has he stopped playing dead now of all times?
I realize Dad didn’t kill him back there because he’s a lazy piece of shit who didn’t feel like dealing with a dead body.
I assume he’s waiting for some minion to handle it, since I refused to.
But he could easily change his mind if Josh made himself too annoying, and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to prevent it.
“Yeah?” grunts Dad in answer to Josh, glancing back at him.
“What did you mean before?”
“Huh?”
Josh clears his throat. “When you said you’d been focused on breaking them up. How exactly did you… do that?”
I frown. What with all of Dad’s revelations, my brain hadn’t even registered those words. Here I’d been so focused on breaking the two of you up…
“Oh, that,” scoffs Dad. “Who do you think gave Tragen the tape? The screengrab?”
I freeze, feeling like the air has been knocked out of my lungs.
The tape. The screengrab. The image that destroyed me. Piper, being raped by my only friends. Only I hadn’t known it was a rape when Tragen cheerfully handed me the print-out.
I remember now that he had mentioned someone giving it to him. But I hadn’t thought twice about it. Tragen had eyes everywhere. If he wanted to know, then he would.
But maybe I got it wrong. Maybe it’s not Tragen who has eyes everywhere.
Maybe it’s Dad.
As my mind works through all of that, I begin to feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. My skin has gone numb, and a thick veil has descended on me. It’s like I’m watching myself from far away, watching myself turn to Dad and ask in a lethally quiet voice, “Who? Who gave Tragen the tape?”
Dad actually does look unsettled now, as he glances first at my eyes, then down at my hands, still clutching the gun. But his own hubris gets the best of him, and he shrugs his shoulders forcefully, as if angry at himself for giving into his fear for even one second.
Maybe he is scared of me, after all.
Who fucking knows? I sure don’t. It doesn’t feel like I know a single thing anymore.
“Me,” he says. “I gave Tragen the tape, Quill. And you know what? You fucking know what, Quill? I did a whole lot more than that.”
I’m further away than ever from my body, floating somewhere high up, looking down at him as he says, “Liam and I had quite the chat. We spoke about how fucked up it was that you were always putting Piper first. And how you were breaking all the soldier rules, and possibly getting him in trouble, too. He’d been freaking out about it, but I kindly reassured him, telling him it was nothing a little rohypnol couldn’t fix.
And then I set up the camera and filmed it all.
Luckily for Liam, his friend Dane isn’t half as stupid as him, and when he realized what was happening, he fixed the whole thing up to protect him.
My tape wasn’t even needed. Not until later, when I realized I could get you to do the dirty work of killing Piper yourself.
I must say I was surprised that with your temper and possessiveness, you didn’t end up shooting her.
When Tragen got smart, and sold his services to the Moretti group, he probably got on his knees thanking the devil you didn’t go through with it.
And I must admit I was thankful too, for once, that I had a weak piece of shit for a son.
Because Coltello later made clear to me that the only one who could kill her was him. ”
I’ve tuned out Dad’s rambling ever since he spoke the words that my brain latched onto.
Nothing a little rohypnol couldn’t fix… Nothing a little rohypnol couldn’t fix… Nothing a little rohypnol couldn’t fix…
It doesn’t seem like I can ever find my way back from that detached place where I’m watching things unfold from afar in slow-motion. Only when Josh blurts out, “Are you fucking serious? You fucking told them to rape her?” do I come crashing down.
The blunt words shatter the fog, and I blink rapidly as Dad swerves to the side of the road, puts the car in park, and shoots a hand out behind him.
“Hey, fuckface, watch it. Or your death is about to get a whole lot uglier than I’d intended. Now get the fuck out.”
He lets go of him for a second, opens the car door, and drags him out. He makes him kneel on the grass in front of him.
“Josh.” I blink faster than ever, my hands fumbling in my lap, the world suddenly turning into pure repetition. “Josh, Josh, Josh.”
My dad takes out a second gun and points it at his face.
I’m twitching desperately, trying to unclick my seatbelt, trying to get out, trying to take my gun with me.
But it’s impossible. My skin is icy and numb.
Any strength I had is melted. I can’t even hold up my head.
It feels like I’m collapsing into a helpless, weak heap.
Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.
Is this what it feels like to permanently lose my mind?
At last, I manage to hook the gun in one hand and stumble out of the car.
I mouth Josh’s name, over and over, and it mingles with Piper’s.
I can’t even stand up straight. I land on my knees right behind my dad, gasping.
I don’t even have the excuse of a migraine to explain the way I’m falling apart right now.
Josh glances at me, and he’s apparently so alarmed by what he sees that he forgets his own impending fate. “It’s okay, man. Everything’s okay. It’s going to be fine.”
“Josh. Josh. Josh,” I sob out the words, unable to do anything else.
“You weak piece of shit,” growls Dad at the sound of my crying. “What have I done to deserve such a weak fucking son? If I could go back in time, I’d keep my sperm out of my wife’s cunt. She was the only good thing that happened to me, and I lost her, because of you.”
Josh’s eyes widen at hearing the casual cruelty, but I’m used to it. I sag onto the ground, helpless to do anything but internalize it.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
“And that filthy slut of yours—”
Those words make me tense. He can’t tell, he’s facing away from me, his gun pointed at Josh’s head, with that smug confidence that tells me he thinks he knows me.
And I guess he does. I guess he knows exactly what I’m capable of. And what I’m not capable of.
“That worthless whore.”
He knows I’m in a prison of his making. But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s breaking its bars with every word he speaks.
“Pure fucking garbage.”
It feels like I’m lifting my arm with the last particle of strength I have. Like every drop of energy I have goes toward pointing the gun at his head.
“If I had one regret, you know what it would be, Quill? Huh?”
Another shudder of effort as I find the trigger with my finger, sweat dripping down my forehead.
“I’d fucking go back and tell Liam to make it hurt.”
He turns around to savor my reaction. He sees the gun pointed at him, and smiles, clearly convinced I’ll never pull the trigger. He’s still smiling a moment later as he careens backward, my shot having blown off the top of his head.
“Holy fucking shit,” stammers Josh. “Holy fucking shit!”