Obsessed(48)

“Because it reminds me to be human,” he argued, his voice cracking. “To cherish you and your sister –”

“Don’t call her that anymore! She’s not my sister.”

“I’m not trying to upset you, Aston.”

“Then let me have her!” Angry tears fell from my eyes. “I want her. We want each other! We waited years for this moment. I tried so hard to push her away, but I couldn’t. Either she leaves with me, or I stay with her.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at me, his eyes red and pained. He honestly didn’t want me with her. I couldn’t believe it. I felt unworthy, rejected, pushed aside. I knew those things weren’t entirely true, but in that moment, I was raw with pain and determined to see things in a way that mirrored my insecurities.

I shook my head and slid down the wall. Who was he to tell me no? He didn’t understand us. No, a voice whispered in my head, he understands you perfectly, and he’s right.

I was too angry to speak to him, and he continued to linger next to me, determined not to leave me alone. It felt like an hour had passed in that position. I watched people come and go, wishing I’d still been part of that foster system. I could have met Elise on a different path in life. Imagine how simple things would have been then?

I was drowning in my fucking misery when I heard a commotion. I raised my head and stared on as a man slammed the door shut to a car in the parking lot and began screaming at his wife. He pointed to the backseat, mouthing off at a little boy who was crying.

I stood up, and Dad was watching the scene unfold too.

“He spills fucking ketchup in my car, the little thieving shit!” the man screeched.

The woman was terrified of him, but she continued holding her ground, protecting her boy from this man. This man who was shaking the same way my real father did before he cut us all up.

“Get out of the way!” he told her.

When she wouldn’t, he grabbed something from under his shirt and I tensed when I saw the gun. I took a step forward when Dad grabbed me by the arm. “Don’t,” he told me sternly. “I don’t have my protective gear here, Aston. I’m off-duty. We cannot intervene when he is armed like that. Let me call the department.”

“He’s going to hurt the kid,” I hissed.

“He won’t, I promise.” Dad pulled out the phone from his pocket and made the call. I stood by and stared on as the man shoved the woman behind and reached for the door.

Images flashed before my eyes.

My real father chasing my mother around the house.

Her screams.

Her pleas.

The way my sisters sobbed for mercy. How quiet I was as I stood back and watched helplessly. Why had I been so quiet? Why didn’t I move? Why didn’t I do something?

You’ve always been weak. Always been a coward.

I snapped and, without knowing it, I rushed to the man with the gun. I heard Dad yell at me to stop, but I didn’t listen. Adrenaline and anger fuelled me, as well as images of green eyes and rage and blood.

I lost it.





16.



Elise

The day he went fishing with Dad was a beautiful one. The sun was bright, the heat not as heavy as it had been in recent weeks. Mom was tackling on overtime at the police station, and I was pacing the floors of our house, hands clasped, and my stomach swirling with knots. This was it. We were doing it. We were going to come out on the other side together, no matter what.

I went to the bathroom that many times. The anxiety was unbearable.

I tried to read a book. Then I flicked through the channels on the television. Then I tried to busy myself by cooking.

Nothing worked. I couldn’t focus when all I could think about was Aston and Dad and whether he had told him by now. I knew it was unlikely, though. Aston said he’d let him know after they’d fished. He wanted it face to face at a table. He already had a restaurant in mind.

I clock-watched and paced. Clock-watched and paced. When I heard the front door open, I nearly threw up as I hesitantly moved to the hallway. My nerves died down when I saw Mom coming through the door, exhausted eyes twinkling when they met mine. “Hey, darling,” she said, setting her purse down on the entrance table. “How are we today?”

I just nodded. “Good.”

She must have sensed my mood was off. She paused and looked me over. I was still in my pj shorts and tank top. My hair hadn’t been combed. I hadn’t a lick of make-up on my face, and I was pretty sure I was paler than usual.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, concerned.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

She ignored my sarcasm. “The boys are still out?”