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I ran through the parking lot and found a non-descript white car to steal. I didn’t know how to drive, but I figured it couldn’t be that hard. After breaking the window and getting in, I fiddled with the wires until I got the car up and running. Then I drove off in search of my parents.
I found them at our home. I could see them through the huge glass windows on the front of the house, having dinner, smiling at each other. I don’t think I ever saw my parents look so happy.
Storming up to the house, I pounded on the door. My father answered.
“Viktor?” he whispered, his eyes widening.
“Hey, Dad. Can I come in?” I knew I was a sight to behold. Dripping wet, bloody knuckles, breathing heavily.
“Who is it?” Mom asked, coming into view. She froze when she saw me. “Viktor.”
“Can I come in?”
My parents shared a look before Dad nodded and opened the door. I left dirty footprints on their nice hardwood floors. “It’s been a while since I saw you guys. Why did you never come to see me?”
“Oh, Viktor.” Mom pointed at the couch. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“No. Are you guys not happy to see me?”
“It’s not that …”
“Right. Why did you guys drop me off at that place? I’m your son. How could you treat me like that?”
“Viktor, just sit down,” Mom said, trying again. “Let’s talk this out.”
Dad wasn’t even facing me. He was on the phone with someone else. It took me a moment to realize he was calling the hospital. I stalked over to him and grabbed the phone, smashing it onto the ground. He jerked away from me.
“I’m not going back to that place.”
Dad straightened. “You can’t stay here.”
“You’re my parents. Where am I supposed to go?” My hands clenched at my sides. That wasn’t how I imagined the reunion. I thought my parents would be at least somewhat happy to see me. But it was clear that my parents had dropped me off at that mental institution because they didn’t want anything to do with me.
And that thought crushed me.
Dad ripped the door back open. “Just leave, son.”
Anger like nothing I’d ever felt before coursed through me. I ran past them and into the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife I could find. My parents called out, following me. They froze when they saw what I held.
“You’re not going to hurt me and get away with it,” I growled.
Then I walked toward them with the knife.
* * *
I’m notsure why memories of my parents keep coming back to me. I haven’t thought about them in years. Blame it on Gemma, I guess. She misses her family, so it’s making me think of mine.
Lying next to Gemma in bed, staring down at her peaceful face, I can’t help but admit to myself that I can’t let this girl go. It would break me in two.
I’m not a man who gets scared, but the thought of losing Gemma terrifies me.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with that information.
CHAPTER15
Gemma
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” I practically drag Viktor toward the Ferris wheel.
