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This all works for me, because it means I’ll have completed my last trial without a hitch. Walking home, I feel lighter with each step, instead of guilt. This man hurt so many kids, and now we’re all finally free.
JONAS
Bastian left earlier, insistent that he needed to take the walk alone. I stayed in our rooms, staring at the photo of my father.
He was a better person when my mom was alive. She was so full of life, always singing or baking. Mom was big into church functions, helped with charities, and was fun to be around. She literally lit up a room.
It kills me that all of my memories are destroyed because Dad’s debt collectors shot up my home. Everything was ruined, not even a single photo remains.
Blowing out a breath, I stand, pulling on leather gloves. I plan to beat my father to death, and release all of the rage that sits in my heart. Every time I go into the ring, I think of his guilt-ridden eyes whenever he looks at photos of my mother, or someone who mentioned her.
I always wondered if he had something to do with her murder. It would explain why he started drinking more, and couldn’t stand to be around us. We look so much like her, after all.
It’s getting cooler, and I throw on a black hoodie over my T-shirt. He is supposed to be home right now, so it’s time to get moving. God only knows what kind of trouble he might get into once he really gets into his drinks, and I don’t need someone else killing him because he picked a fight.
This is my kill.
Leaving the room, I sneak off Holy Cross Academy property, going over the bridge into town in record time. Slowing my walk, I hum to myself, reminding myself that I am doing this for my sister and me. The Society will protect us, I’ll become a member, and no one will be able to touch us.
All I’ve ever wanted is to be safe and belong.
My father’s car is the only one parked at the Michaelson residence, not that it has been a family home for a while. My sister spent more time with her friends than at home over the last school year, because she didn’t feel comfortable.
Walking up the drive, I circle around the house to my old room. There’s a screen that has never fit correctly, and I’m counting on my father to have never fixed it. He was much too busy drinking and getting involved in unsavory activities to worry about the house.
Pushing up the window, I wince at the slight creak as it goes up. I never bothered locking this window, and just as I thought, my father never checked.
Hoisting myself into the room, I listen for movement. Continuing through the house, I stop as I see a streak of blood. What…
Did he cut himself?
Looking around, I walk into the living room and see Ash waiting for me with his arms braced over his knees. Raising his head, I see relief and remorse in the same glance.
Forcing myself to look down, there lies the bloodied body of my father. Ash looks miraculously free of blood, but there’s a bag at his feet.
“There’s already blood on my soul, Jonas. I didn’t see any reason for you to have any on yours,” Ash says gently.
He’s worried I’ll be mad, but I’m not. I’m… relieved. I didn’t want to do this, but it’s what I was supposed to do.
“Ash, what about The Society? They wanted me to do this… they’ll know, Ash. They always know everything,” I rasp, worried.
“Look, I’m sorry. You’re just such a gentle soul, even when you go feral in the ring. I didn’t think you should have to hear what your father said when I came for him, either.” Ash sighs. “You’d have lost control the way I did.”
Sitting on the couch across from him, I frown.
“What did he say?” I whisper.
I’ve had my worries about the kind of man my father had become, which is why I was glad my sister stayed with friends.
“When he saw me come in, he was drinking,” Ash says, gesturing toward the fallen bottle. Now that he mentions it, I can smell the rum as it soaks into the carpet, along with the blood.
Swallowing hard, I nod, ignoring everything else. I need to know.
“What else?” I ask.
“I pulled out the knife, and he asked if I was here for you. He said he was ready to see Jasmine, so he could beg her for forgiveness,” Ash murmurs, playing with the handle of the knife. “Your dad told me he was offered a new job a year before your mother died, and the money was really good. He didn’t tell The Society, because his new employers wanted him to use their contacts with their shipping companies. The job was helping them move the bodies of kids and women.”
Blinking hard, I shake my head. “Dad was helping those monsters sell women and children?!” I roar. I remember the men my father is indebted to, and the things they told my sister. They wanted to hurt her, too. “Holy shit. How did that involve my mother?”
