Chapter Three #2
I unlatch the door and push it open, stumble down the steps, and fall back to my knees with a yelp as the gravel tears into my skin.
I ignore it. I don’t want it to stop me from getting away from here.
I walk for what feels like miles before I collapse.
My body shivers, soaked to the skin from the deluge of rain trying to drown me.
I lie there wondering why I’m even trying.
Wouldn’t it be easier to give up now? To just rest my eyes and let go.
No more pain, no more sadness, or anger.
Just freedom and peace. I lie there in the dirt as oblivion threatens to pull me under.
When the wind stirs my hair, for a moment I swear I feel fingertips stroking the side of my face, willing me to keep going.
I crack my eyes open. There is nobody there, but even so, I can feel a presence.
It’s enough to knock some sense into me.
I don’t want to go out like this, cold and alone in the dirt.
I won’t give people the satisfaction of saying I got what I deserved.
Somehow, through the pain, I get to my feet and stumble like some reanimated creature.
When I can’t stand anymore, I crawl, shredding the skin on my palms and knees until they’re slick with blood.
If it weren’t for the rain, I’d be leaving a clear trail behind me.
The sun is beginning to breach the tree line as I reach home, bathing the place in an ethereal glow as the rain finally tapers off.
I don’t think about the monster ahead of me, too focused on the one I’m running from.
As I press my bloody hand to the wrought iron gate, a sense of warning blasts through me.
Though I know I should listen, my fear overrides everything else.
It’s a testament to my sheer force of will that I make it inside.
I won’t make it upstairs—the staircase might as well be another five miles long.
Instead, I collapse in the hallway, my back sliding down the wall as I bring my knees to my chest. I drift between awake and oblivion until I realize I’m not alone.
Fear runs up my spine as the house shrieks a warning. I lift my head and find my father crouched in front of me, a manic gleam in his eye as he takes me in. “Run into some troubles, did we?” he mocks.
I don’t have the energy to respond. Perhaps if I’m lucky, he’ll beat me to death, and this will all be over.
“I thought I would have more time. But when you didn’t come home, I knew you were whoring around. You always did like to fuck with my plans. No worries, you don’t get to take the throne without learning how to bide your time.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and I don’t care. I turn my head, so fucking done with this life, but he grips my jaw, hard enough to leave bruises.
“So weak. Just like your mother. Why the devil blessed you, I’ll never know. But I’ve found a way around that.”
He pulls his hand back, thumping my head against the wall, making my vision blur once more.
At the sound of footsteps, I look behind him. I’m not surprised to see Dale approach. He takes me in, and his eyes widen at the state of me, a reaction I’m sure surprises us both. He quickly masks it. “It’s time. You sure about this?”
“Don’t question me now, boy. Have I ever led you astray before?”
Dale doesn’t answer. His eyes flick from my dad to me, and for a brief moment, I taste something different in the air. Guilt.
My father grabs my arm and twists it, showing Dale my birthmark. For some reason, it looks like it’s streaked with black. “An unmoored witch is a dangerous entity. You think she’ll spare you when she comes into her own?”
Dale’s face hardens at these words, and any chance I had at swaying him to my side is lost.
A witch. I can’t say I’m surprised, and yet I am. Even though all the signs were there. I don’t understand any of it, but somehow it feels right.
I turn back to my father, anger and hatred bubbling up inside me. “I’d rather be a witch than a pathetic excuse of a man like you.”
He backhands me, making my head bounce off the wall. I should have expected it, but whatever drugs are coursing through my body have slowed my reactions.
Dale steps closer. “Be careful, or it will be impossible to sell the story. It’s gonna be hard enough as it is, given the state of her.”
“Ye of little faith,” my father hisses before he takes a gun from the back of his jeans and presses it to my temple.
The house vibrates with urgency.
“Do it,” I hiss. “I dare you.”
“If I thought it would help, I would. But I know you’re linked to this place, and I’m not finished with it yet. On the contrary, I’m only just beginning.”
He swings the gun and hits me on the temple with it.
I slump to the ground, my hands pressed to the wood as the house tries to tether me to it.
I don’t know what to do other than feed it my regrets and sorrow before pushing my love into it, for this place and the land, regardless of the man who taints it.
I whisper my apologies before I hear a gunshot.
I jump, waiting for the pain, but unconsciousness pulls me under. When I feel a gun placed in my hands, I have the vague notion they’re going to make it look like a suicide. A finger presses against mine, pulling the trigger.
The last thing I remember is Dale’s panicked voice. “9-1-1? I’d like to report a murder. My boss is dead, and I just watched his daughter kill him.”