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6 weeks ago
Fed up with my questions, Mother snaps, "Tate, please!"
"Eat your food, Son."
My teeth are due to turn to dust within the next few dinners I have with my parents.I moved out last year, so why the fuck am I still letting them demand things of me?The way my father calls me son is demeaning, but I honestly just hate the reminder that he’s related to me.
Mother's face is twisted in a sneer as she watches the kitchen staff fill her next glass of wine. Spearing a piece of steak with my fork, I prepare myself to defend the poor people doomed to work in this god-forsaken house.
Smothering my satisfaction at how absolutely mouth-watering dinner is, I savor the perfection that is our chef's skills. I refuse to give my parents any power over me, even if it is just a bite of their food. I'll tell Ben later how fucking magnificent dinner was, even if the company at the emptyfamilytable makes me nauseous.
Ignoring the scotch beside my plate, I take a sip of my water. Nobody should ever be inebriated around these people. The only sounds to be heard between the three of us are my mother's scoffs and the clanking of silverware.
"Do you have a woman yet?"
I open my mouth to snap at his invasive question but am interrupted by a commotion and yelling coming from the hall leading to the entryway.
"IS SHE HERE?!"
I don't recognize the voice, nor do I have any context, but my stomach bottoms out when I thrust my chair back to stand.
Mother and Father each stand with furrowed brows. Mother hardly gets a word out before an absolutely terrifying man storms into the formal dining room. His hair is buzzed with neatly trimmed facial hair. What has me moving one foot forward and bending my knees into a defensive stance is the way his wide shoulders and buff chest heave with each enraged breath he takes.
"WHERE IS SHE, ARTHUR?!" Spittle flies out of his mouth and onto the disgustingly clean floors.
"Mason, what are you doing here?" I thought my dad disliked me, but whoever our guest is, has him tipping his nose up in disgust.
The slam of the huge man’s fist on the table draws a shrill screech from Mother. "Cut the shit, Arthur! Where is your fucking daughter?"
"The fuck did you just say?" My lip curls at the mention of my sister.How the hell does this asshole know her, and how did she ever get caught up with the likes of him?
"Tate, not now." My piece of shit sperm donor doesn't even look fazed at the outburst or the fact that his wife looks terrified. "Rylee is not my problem, nor is she welcome here. Get out of my house, Mason. You are not welcome either."
This is the closest I've gotten to getting answers about why my sister disappeared. One day, years ago, my most favorite human in the world disappeared. Since then, they have leached all the happiness out of this house. Her name was never to be spoken, nor was she mentioned at any events. My best friend ceased to exist, no matter how many times I demanded answers. There was a time when I thought she might have died, and nobody wanted to upset me, but it just didn't feel right. The rage and immediate dismissal of my sibling gave them away. They did something to Rylee.
That's why I'm here every damn Friday for dinner. These people haven't been my family since I was twelve. They do have information, though. I just haven't found the right way to peel it from their gold-digging, self-centered minds.
This asshole, Mason, knows something. From the way violence and threats flash through his eyes, I don't think I will like what he has to say.
"That bitch took my brainwashed daughter!"
"Excuse me?!" My fists clench as I start bouncing on my toes, really wanting to throw hands. "KID?"
Dad's hand slamming down on the table rattles the dishes. "Shut the fuck up, Tate!"
I almost smirk at the thought of how Zach would react if he heard him speaking to me like that. Every training I've drilled into my body flashes through my mind, ready to put both of these wretched men on their fucking asses.
"What does it matter, Mason? Honestly, you should have kicked Rylee to the curb when she was pregnant."
I have no words. Literally none. Every atom in my body is screaming at me to kill them for the way they are talking about my big sister and,apparently,my fucking niece!
Mason's face turns an epic shade of purple. It's probably the equivalent of how he wants my father to look as he strangles him to death. Blood coats my tongue as I hold myself back and wishing like fuck the guys were here as backup. I can't kill both of them when I can tell I’m clearly outnumbered.
My hands weren't meant for bloody flesh; they were meant for the cold metal grip of a firearm.
"It's only a matter of time before I find what's mine anyway," Mason growls. Before I can confront him or even let out a stuttering breath, he’s storming down the hallway and out the front door.
Mother's fearful, wide eyes around her fake cheekbones don't stir any form of pity in me. Dad is glaring at the doorway, and all I want is to bury him in a shallow grave.
