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“Are you happy now, Tori?” he roared.
He moved into the room, ripped a framed photo from his wall, and slammed it into the wall across from him.
I jerked at his reaction, covering my mouth to hold in the anguish I felt for him.
“What? Why would any of this make me happy?” I cried.
“You’ve always painted me the villain. Are you glad he did those things to me?” he asked, pointing at the photos sprinkled around me. “Are you glad he destroyed me?”
He fell back, leaning against his bedroom door as if his knees were weak. Seeing such a powerful individual fall apart right before me was heartbreaking.
“I’m a monster, right?” He smacked himself in the chest. “I took your life away from you. Does it make you feel better knowing mine was stolen long before yours?”
I moved before I thought better of it, climbing from the floor and rushing to him. He held his palms out to keep me away.
“No,” he muttered. “Don’t.”
My eyes burned from crying so hard. I never cried in front of people, and I certainly never envisioned myself doing so in front of Koah Saint, but once the tears began to pour down my cheeks, I couldn’t stop them.
The images of the young boys and the things my father did to them were branded on my brain and burned into my memories, replacing every good thing I remembered about my father.
“I’m so sorry, Koah. So sorry.” I bawled.
Everything made sense. I knew my dad hadn’t killed Joker’s father because I was with him when the murder occurred. Koah and Joker had framed my dad for murder, and I couldn’t find it in myself to be upset about it anymore. I understood. They did what they had to do to make him stop—to save other young boys from the same fate.
My anger toward Koah and Joker dissolved as a new emotion stepped forward. Shame. The blood of a sick man ran through my veins. My father, who had always been my hero, was now a monster I knew would haunt my dreams for the rest of my days. He was a perverted dragon that Koah and Joker had slain the best way they knew how.
I felt the pain in Koah’s eyes in my chest, pressing against my heart and making it hard to beat. I reached out to touch him, but he shook his head, stopping me. Of course, he wouldn’t want my hands on his flesh. I was the daughter of the man who had taken his innocence, and pulling out those photos reminded him of that.
What did he see when he looked at me?
I knew I had my father’s eyes and the same high cheekbones. Was it an insult to Koah to even show my face?
It was strange. I had spent the past ten years of my life despising him and the past few months trying to stay away from him. But at that moment, all I wanted to do was hold him. I wanted to soothe all the broken pieces of him and give him back the parts of his soul my father had stolen.
When I reached out to touch him again, he allowed it. My cold fingers tingled against his heated skin for a heartbeat before he shoved my hand away and moved away from the door.
“Leave,” he said, his voice deep and coarse. “Go, and don’t ever come into this house. I never want to see your fucking face again.”
“Koah,” I choked his name.
“I’m serious, Tori. Stay the fuck away from me.”
My heart shattered, but I nodded, understanding his reasoning. I slipped around him and exited his room. I moved toward the front door as quickly as possible, ducking and weaving around people who had no idea my world was burning to ash. After pushing through the door into the cool night air, I collapsed to the wet grass.
Things had shifted. Koah was no longer the evil bastard who destroyed my life. He was the saint, and I was the daughter of the devil who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.
15
Saint
Toriknew.
She had seen the secret that haunted my life. Her eyes had touched the photos of the sins carried out against my young flesh that her father had committed. Knowing she had seen me at my lowest point—abused and degraded—sent a shock of rage through me.
How dare she enter my space, dig through my things, and release my demons? Their darkness swam around the walls. The shadows threatened to suffocate me as I stood with my back against my bedroom door.
The pictures on the floor stared back at me, taunting me with their memories and ebony torture. From where I stood, a particular image stood out. It was me, and the expression on my young face reminded me exactly why Joker and I had put Lorne Walsh behind bars. It reminded me why I lied and destroyed lives to save my own.
