“You’re nothing but a sick bastard. You’re just like your father,” she spits out.
I grin. “I’m nothing like my father. My father wanted you. He raped you. He took your innocence. I want nothing from you.”
Her face drops.
“I want nothing but your pain.”
She narrows her eyes, trying to understand what I’m doing, but I see her fear. I see her pain. She’s exposed to me, and I see all of her.
I take out my phone, pulling her number out again, I type in the change to her contact.
“You are nothing,” I say, showing her my phone.
“Take it back,” she sobs.
“No, you are nothing. Nothing but the daughter of a maid—my maid. You should be cleaning this yacht, not living the life of luxury in your penthouse condo.”
“Stop.”
“The only reason you have anything is because of me. Because I let you. I let you leave my house. I paid for your college. I got you into Harvard. Me—not you.”
Her eyes darken, and I see the fierce fire. Let it out Liesel, let it go, stop making me hurt you.
“I ensured your grades were straight A’s by bribing your teachers. Every friend you ever met was me. I paid people to befriend you.”
“Liar.”
“Am I?” I walk toward her, and she tries to hop away, but it only gives me room to circle her like she’s prey.
“Then how come you know I speak the truth? Everything good in your life was because of me, and I didn’t even care about you. I still don’t. You were just a puppet for me to play with.”
“Stop,” she says again, this time her voice is weak, not fierce. We are getting closer.
“You were my father’s greatest fascination, and my biggest pain in the neck. It was fun watching my father play with you though. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” I seethe against her neck.
“I didn’t,” she cries out loudly, so loud I’m sure everyone heard her.
Fuck, I hate myself. I hate myself so much for this.
End this. Now.
“Admit it, you’ve hated me this entire time that I’ve hated you. Since the moment you met me and saw me kill my mother, you hated me. All of your supposed feelings for me were just a trap. Just a way to gain knowledge about me to use later. So you could hurt me later.”
“No,” she whispers, her voice weak as her head drops.
“How does it feel?” I purr over her shoulder.
“What?” she looks up.
“To know that you are nothing.”
I hook my foot under the rope tying her legs together and pull. She collapses to the floor, dropping to her knees before me. If I was my father, I’d make her suck my cock. She is at the right height for it, after all. But I’m not my father. I never will be.
But then why do I feel like I am?
I walk behind her and squeeze my tears down because I feel every drop of Liesel’s pain. And I hate it. I hate myself. I hate my father. I hate all of it.
End this.