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“You’re damaged goods. We’re lucky Grant seems remotely interested in you,” she said.
“What does Grant have to do with this?”
“You’re going to marry Grant,” John declared.
My face must have shown what I was thinking because my mother then said, “I want to be clear, if you don’t marry Grant, consider yourself homeless, because you will be kicked out of this house faster than you can say no.”
“You will not ruin this family’s reputation anymore. You will marry a respectable man,” John said.
“Grant is not a respectable man,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Quiet!” John shouted, and I shut my mouth.
“You only have one choice—marry him or leave.”
“If you do not marry Grant, the money that was saved for you will no longer be yours. Since you already want to sell your body, you can sell it for money,” he gritted out. “Or we can send you to a mental institution so far away and you will never see your demented brother ever again,” he continued.
Maybe I should slit their throat. It’s what Fin wanted.
I wanted to see him; I wanted to see him so badly.
“Well?” John asked, with one leg crossed over the other as he placed his hand on the Bible to the right of him.
I could feel Fin’s presence looming over me, although he was two hundred miles away, his piercing gaze cutting through my very being. I was bound to him, interconnected in a way that defied logic. He promised to find me, no matter how long it took. So I silently vowed to endure the harsh reality of life without him, but I knew that my heart and soul belonged with him, and I would wait for his return with unwavering determination. My one true love, my only hope for salvation in this cruel existence.
Chapter9
Fin
“Mr. Sullivan, can you tell me why you are here today?” one of the panelists in front of me asked.
I didn’t look up to see whose voice it was; my brain couldn’t register the question, nor did I care. I only wanted my hands wrapped around Dr. Harkness’s throat again.
Just a few minutes ago, I felt her pulse quicken under my touch and it felt so fucking good in that moment to watch her struggle below me. Mascara streaks had run down her cheeks from her tear-filled eyes. She begged and begged, but my grip only tightened.
She did this. She took my Barbie away from me and she deserved to die.
“Please… please don’t kill me,” Dr. Harkness had begged.
“Shut up.”
“You… are… better… than this.”
“Shut up.”
“You don’t want to kill me,” Dr. Harkness had whimpered. I’d begun to see the whites of her eyes as they rolled back.
I’d leaned down, until my mouth was by her ear. “I really do. Nothing gets in the way of what is mine.”
Right when she was almost about to take her last breath, more aides had come in and pulled me off her. I fought back, kicking and shouting a variety of curses that would make anyone shudder, but there were too many of them. They’d dragged me away from the person who fucked me over, who was always fucking me over.
And now I was here, in front of the people who’d determine if I would ever see outside of Murdoch Home again.
“Please communicate with us, Mr. Sullivan. We would like to work with you in letting you go, but you need to cooperate with us.”
Fuck him. Fuck this place. Fuck—wait, what did he say?
I lifted my head and shifted my attention between the five people sitting in front of me at a long table. They all appeared professional, dressed in suits of monochromatic shades. The panelists stared at me blankly, not an ounce of fear etched on their faces. If anything, they looked impatient. They were waiting for me to say something that would move the meeting along.
