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Greyson
With every step I take, I’m aware that I’m contradicting my own advice—to not give these people this reaction; to not let them have the satisfaction of seeing me upset, of confirming my role as black sheep of the family, a role I've occupied my whole life for daring to not show reverence to a man who has not treated me as human since the day I was born.
What I hadn’t factored in was seeing her little face drop every time my so-called parents launched a new arrow at her, every time Sandra smirked in response to one of Indigo’s earnest answers, every time her wide eyes met my father’s lascivious glare.
It seems being permanently disappointed by my parents is a chronic compulsion of mine, one I facilitate by not giving up all hope as Gideon and Kennedy tell me to, as the one therapist I saw a few years ago told me to.
I of all people should know what they’re capable of, especially him. And yet for reasons I don’t understand, I hold out this hope that maybe one day he will understand the pain he has caused me, understand what he took from me, and that one day, he will grant me some frail vestige of approval without requiring me to embrace the side of me that resembles him.
The monster.
The man who has informed me my entire life that I am also one, that I allowed it to happen, that I wanted it.
I still can’t let go of the hope that one day he will say or do something to soothe the endless black ache which casts a cloud of soot over the world, with the exception of one very vibrant girl, a girl I can’t help feeling that I’m pulling into this domain of shadows.
The thought of Indigo’s face as she absorbed blow after blow, snide comment after snide comment, the unrelenting invasive questions and my father’s predatory eyes tunneling into her—especially when I know of his tastes for wide-eyed young things like her—propels my feet forwards as I make it through the gate, the image of Gabriella walking into that room like a thousand-watt charge bursting through me.
I will not spend another night pacing in solitary torment and resentment at one of the fucked-up things I've endured at their hands. I will not subject Indigo to my rancor and irritation at myself for not daring to confront him once again—a state I've found myself in after multiple beatings as a child when I used to dare tell him that I knew what he’d done.
Ours is a silence simmering in secrets.
And I think he knows that one day, I won’t be able to hold them in anymore…
As I make it to the front door, I prepare to ring the bell, but try the handle anyway, finding the door still unlocked. I open it, entering to the chatter of voices. I slam it shut behind me to alert them to my presence, plunging the house into momentary silence.
As I walk into the dining room, my father gets to his feet, as does my brother who flanks him.
“Back so soon, brother?” says Tyrion. “No Indie? We were hoping to get to know her better.”
“Why?” I ask, coming to stand ten feet before my father, squaring my body at his tall, stocky frame, his arms and neck snaked with thick veins that I’ve spent years imagining biting through. “Why is she here?”
“You don’t talk about me in the third person!” exclaims Gabriella, getting to her feet.
My eyes slide to her as she takes a step towards me. “You have the nerve to ask whyI’mhere! Why was thatwhorehere?! You do realize we’re engaged to be married, right?!”
“Still just as delusional,” I snarl. “We are not engaged. For one, I don’t recall asking you nor giving you that ring you wear. In fact, all I remember saying to you this year is that I can barely stomach being around you.” She takes another step forwards, her face reddening with anger. “And asking you to help your father see reason as regards this farce.”
“You son of a bitch,” she sneers breathlessly. “Who the hell else is gonna take you on? Does she even know how fucked-up you are? Does she know what you’re hiding inside you? Or your proclivities? Or let me guess… You don’t subjectherto the stuff you did me.”
“I don’t remember you complaining at the time, Gabriella. On the contrary.”
“Yeah, well, doessheget to see themonster?” My glare drifts to my father as she speaks, his dark eyes flaring as he absorbs words that I know will nourish him, for all he’s ever wanted for me is to be like him. “Or are you breakingherin gently?”
“You don’t speak about that woman,” I growl. “Ever.”
Gabriella’s long black hair falls out from behind her ears, concealing the sides of her heavily made-up brown eyes, the same exact shape as Vitaly, her father’s.
I glance at my sister, still sitting down, her lips twisted into a ravenous smile as she enjoys the after-dinner venom.
“I’ll speak about whoever the fuck I want,” Gabriella barks. “Especially about thewhoreruining my engagement!”
Is everyone around here insane?
Or is it me who’s losing my fucking mind?
“I have made it clear to you in more ways than I can count that we aredone.”
“And I told you that I’m not disobeying my father! Unlike you, I actually give a shit about family. About loyalty.”
