AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Haven't you ever asked yourself why?" He rubbed his temples, his breath coming in even heavier. "I'm scared of you, Parker. We're all scared of you. Of what you've become."
I picked myself up from the chair, advancing on the man until his back was pressed firmly against the wall as I snarled in his face, "I am what you fucking made me, Dad."
"Don't blame this on me." He leaned back, coughing. "Don't blame any of this on me."
"What then?" I laughed. "The fact that I didn't have a mother? That Kade always got the attention? That I want to fuck June's brains out? Blame whoever and whatever you want, Dad. It's not going to change the facts."
"What facts?"
"That I'm finally stronger than you." I peeled back the sleeve of his shirt, smirking when I saw the bruises. "See? Stronger. Better. Meaner."
He started coughing again, trying to catch his breath, and I groaned. I left him doubled over by the wall, pulling open a drawer in his desk.
"Which drawer?"
"Third," he wheezed.
I pulled out his medicine. Dad was a heavy man, and he'd been on several medications for the past few years. I looked down at what was in my hands. An asthma inhaler, and two bottles of pills. One combination of the pills would relieve his pain. The other would kill him.
I shook some pills out into my palm, poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table, and brought them over to him.
He swallowed the pills with long, thirsty gulps of the water. Sprayed the inhaler in his mouth. Waited for the instant relief the drugs usually gave him. But this time, it didn't come.
"You've done a lot of bad things to me," I told him pensively. "You've fucked with my head, and Kade's, and June's, and Rachel's. Probably Mom's too when she was still around. And you always called me the monster. I think you should take a long, hard look in the mirror first. See who the real monster is."
"What the hell are you...?" He started wheezing again, struggling to catch his breath. I grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him to the horizontal mirror on the wall. Another coughing fit took over, and I clapped him on the back as we stared at our reflections.
"You made me who I am," I told him. "The bad apple. But then again, Dad, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Remember?"
His eyes were turning red, and I knew my plan was working. He covered his mouth to cough, and when he pulled his hand back, there were spots of blood on the palm of his hand.
"This is all your fault," I went on softly. "Maybe in your next life, you'll make better choices. But it's too late now."
He braced himself against the mirror, smearing blood drops all over the glass.
"Take a deep breath now, if you can." I smiled gently, patting him on the back. "It might be your last."
He started choking then, and I watched with a smile playing on my lips, counting to ten in my head. Then I started screaming for help. But by the time Rachel, Kade and June raced into the office, it was already too late. He collapsed in front of them, hitting the floor hard. It was too late—we all knew it before the ambulance even arrived.
He was gone.June never does ask about the painting again, which is a little odd. I thought she'd want to see herself, see how I've painted her. And it would give me a certain dark satisfaction to see the look of horror on her face when she sees how I imagined her. A helpless puppet on strings controlled by her Master—me.
But I never get the chance to show her, and she doesn't bring it up again. The next few days, she retreats into her shell more and more. She pushes me away, and every time I ask her about it, she denies the fact. But I knew something was up. I can feel our connection being severed, like a dull knife cutting into the fraying rope that holds us together. I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to lose my little sis ever again.
That day, as I come home early from the office, the face of my father on the family portrait in the hall mocks me. Rage boils in my veins, threatening to spill over. I need to hurt someone. It has been a long time since I've done that, and the desire flows through my body, reminding me I am still the monster Dad accused me of being two years ago.
When June comes home hours later, she finds me sprawled on the couch, playing video games. I can tell she's pissed off already, seeing what I'm doing, probably disapproving because I haven't spent enough time at the company today. I don't give a shit, though. The company pretty much runs itself now, and I see no point in wasting my days at the office when I can have other people do the work, and I can just reap the benefits.
