I was barely ten, but the deathly swing of Uncle Mike’s arm revealed he was gone. His skin was mottled like my father’s. Even with my parents saying otherwise, I often wondered why he looked the way he did. He was run over by a tractor not placed into gear, but he was marked and nicked as if he had been in an underground cage fight.
Since I was so young, I never suspected my parents were involved in his accident. Only after seeing the flare dart through my mother’s eyes an hour ago did reality dawn. My parents didn’t witness his accident. They killed him as they most likely did my grandparents.
My grandparents would never admit it, but everyone knew Uncle Mike was their favorite. He helped without being asked, never accepted a dime for his time, and agreed with their decision not to sell their little slice of heaven in the middle of a busy metropolis. His decision had nothing to do with money. Unlike my parents, he had done well for himself. He wasn’t close to wealthy, but he had a humble, happy existence. He was married and expecting his first child in the spring.
Last I heard, Aunt Melissa was residing in Arizona. Her child was born three months after my uncle’s death. I don’t know if my cousin is a boy or a girl. When my uncle was laid to rest, it was as if his little family no longer existed.
After dumping my dress into a suitcase open on the floor, I drag the sleeve of my dressing gown under my nose, removing the mess pooled there. The past hour has flown by in a blur. I’ve been packing and guzzling down vodka like the man I willingly gave my virginity to isn’t in the process of torturing my mother.
Estelle always says blood doesn’t make you family, but still, I expected to feel some sort of grief at the thought I’m about to be an orphan. I feel a little empty and somewhat confused, but I also feel like the purge of my emotions will be good for me.
It’s a sad reality, but by Dimitri wiping my slate clean, I’ll have the chance to move forward without constantly looking over my shoulder. Although I never imagined it being this bad, I’ve always known there was something not quite right with my parents. It wasn’t just the sex and drugs, there was a handful of other things that set alarm bells off in my head. I was just too young to understand what they meant.
I don’t face that same issue now. My father didn’t make me watch because he wanted to embarrass me. He was grooming me to take my mother’s place, preparing to sell me as he had her. That’s why some of his ‘friends’ gawked at me like they did my mother. They knew it was only a matter of time before I’d eventually be offered up as well.
With my stomach a twisted mess of confusion, I pace to the large window in my room to drink in the tranquil setting you wouldn’t expect this close to a major city. The rugged terrain with a skyscraper backdrop has me recalling the time my mother dropped me off to live with my grandparents. For years, I thrived on the fact she cared enough about me not to let my father hurt me.
It was silly of me ever to believe.
While seeking financial aid for school, I discovered my grandparents had a significant mortgage on their estate. They had lived on their little ranch for over a decade before my mother was born, so it should have been paid off years earlier.
I initially blamed bad money management for their poor credit.
Even with my head blurred with alcohol, I’m not so stupid now.
“How fast can Smith look up transactions from closed bank accounts?”
Rocco cranks his neck to face me. He’s been stationed at the corner of my room for the past hour. His unusual quiet has been off-putting, but considering the circumstances, it’s also understandable.
Just as Rocco’s lips move to speak, Smith’s unique timber vibrates my ears. “About as quick as I can make a girl come. Why? What do you need?”
My eyes don’t shoot around my room as they did hours ago, seeking the direction his voice came from. They hone straight in on the tiny camera in the far corner of the elaborate space. The lens appears to be a fault in the distressed wooden frame of a priceless piece of artwork above Dimitri’s desk. Only those in the know are aware it’s a state-of-the-art surveillance instrument. Smith disclosed not only can he see and hear me in every room, so can Dimitri. At the time, the thought intrigued me. Now it makes me worried. I don’t want Dimitri to think I’m seeking excuses for my parents. I’m just trying to occupy my time before I go as crazy as drugs have made my mother.
While pacing closer to Dimitri’s desk, I ask Smith, “My grandparents’ accounts, can you see if there were any irregularities in their transactions?”
“Such as?”
My eyes rocket to Rocco when he answers Smith’s question on my behalf, “She wants to know if her grandparents paid to keep her safe.” As the thump of a keyboard being punished booms out of a hidden speaker above my head, Rocco pushes off the wall he’s had his shoulder propped against the past hour. “Are you sure you want to go down this rabbit warren, Roxie? Knowing the reason for someone’s fuck-ups don’t make them any easier to swallow.”
“I know that. I just…” I’ve got nothing but a heap of tension in my stomach and watering eyes. “What if it wasn’t her fault? What if my father forced her like she said? He had a hold over her like Dimi…”
When my words are gobbled up by the shame raining down on me, Rocco takes up their slack. “Like Dimitri does you?”
I nod, too confused to continue acting like I’m fine. I held a gun to my mother’s head in the room where my father was killed. I almost fired at her. If that isn’t proof I’m already deep down the rabbit hole, nothing will convince you.
After watching me brush away a tear sitting high on my cheek, Rocco locks his murky green eyes with mine. They’re still brimming with cheekiness, but there’s a smart, noble gleam to them as well. “Even with taking out all the shit that happened when you were a kid, knowing what you know now, do you think your parents were or would have been upstanding, moral citizens?”
It should take me longer than two seconds to reach my decision. However, it doesn’t. My parents have always been awful human beings, and that was before I discovered just how polluted their morals have become.
When I shake my head, air whizzes out of Rocco’s nose. “Exactly! Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad your parents couldn’t resist the urge, I kinda like having you around, but if they weren’t born—”
“Fien would still be here.”
Confusion twists in my stomach when Rocco shakes his head. “This isn’t just about Fien, Roxie. It’s about you, and me, and a man who can’t escape the demons of his past no matter how fast he runs.” Acting as if his words don’t have my heart racing a million miles an hour, he bridges the gap between us with two big strides. “No matter how fucked it is, we can’t change the past… but we can stop it happening to someone else.” After gripping my shoulders to lessen my unstable sways, he adds, “Your parents didn’t just hit this scene once in desperation. They were shrouded in it. First, your aunt and uncle, then you and your grandparents before they moved onto Audrey and Fien. They weren’t going to stop until someone stopped them. It sucks that the person has to be Dimitri, but trust me when I say it’s better than it being you.”
Even though I agree with him—I can see me forgiving Dimitri way sooner than I’d ever forgive myself—but I’m more confused than relieved. “What does my aunt have to do with this?”
Rocco curses under his breath before he sinks back to his makeshift station at the side of the room. No words escape his mouth for the next several seconds, but I see the truth in his remorseful gaze. Audrey wasn’t the first pregnant woman my parents took. Even every day, decent Americans know criminals test the waters in their own backyard before playing with the big hitters.
