“She was accepted.” By me.
He kept going as if I hadn’t spoken, “—and the police have arrested you as the suspect. With your history, with everything you have done or has happened to you, it’s all being brought up. The media has already painted you as a spoiled rich bully. That’s what you are to them, and your attitude of fuck off is what they salivate over. You have dark hair. Grace had beautiful blond hair. Good and evil. That’s what the nation understands, and the media is handing it to them on a silver platter.”
“I need my family—”
“I am your family!”
“No, you’re not. You’re not. I don’t ever remember a time when you were. Bryce and Corrigan are my family, and I want them here.”
“They can’t come here—”
All the crap he’d been dishing at me fell on deaf ears. I wasn’t dumb. I knew how I was being painted, but he wasn’t going to win this one. This time, I leaned forward and hit the desk with my finger. This time I was the one who yelled at him, “THEN GET THEM HERE! You do it. You figure it out because if you don’t, I’m finding a way out of here, and I’ll hitchhike all the way back to the city, no matter what car picks me up.”
I swept out of there.
My blood was pumping; the old Sheldon was tearing at me from inside. The old me would’ve trashed the house, then got obliterated and had sex. That wasn’t me anymore, but damn, gritting my teeth, I wanted to do some damage. My fingers curled into my palms, and I sunk my nails into my skin. I pushed them farther in and stood there, trying to calm myself down.
“Oh my god,” Beth gasped from behind me and then hurried around me. She disappeared down the hallway, but returned a moment later with towels. “Sheldon,” her tone turned cautious, “you are bleeding all over the floor. I need to look at your hands.”
I needed my family. Lifting haunted eyes to her, I said, “You’re not my family.”
“I know.” Her hand clenched tighter around the towels. “Can I look at your hands?”
I clipped my head to the side. “A lot of bad shit has happened to me.”
“I know.”
She was speaking so softly to me, like a timid mouse, but for some reason I needed her to understand. I said, “I’m not crazy. I’m not horrible. I’m not a murderer. I can be a bitch, that’s it. People have always wanted to take me down, and I don’t let them. That’s what I’ve done. That’s my mistake, standing up for myself.” An inner voice laughed in my ear. ‘Yeah, right. You’ve done your own damage.’ I muttered, half to myself and half to Beth, “I need to find out who killed Grace. I can’t stay here; I’m trapped.”
As I was speaking, I was half aware of Beth kneeling at my feet. My hands were touched, then peeled back, and she pressed something into them. Pain sliced through, but I was barely mindful of it. It couldn’t cut through the other pain that was already in me. Nothing could quiet the need to avenge what had happened to me.
I was led to a room. Water was turned on, and I felt Beth starting to clean my hands. I let her, and I told her at the same time, “I need my family.”
She stopped and glanced up. “Your mother?”
“My family.” I gave her a hard look. “You heard me in there. You know who I mean. I need them, not some guy who hasn’t been around for years.”
Turning off the water, she held my hands over the sink to let them dry. “Your father may not agree with me sharing this with you, but he’s been away for a reason. He’s had his own troubles over the years and staying away was for your safety, Sheldon, but trust me when I tell you that he never stopped thinking about you.”
“He never cared before.” The memory of when he came home one night flashed back to me. I told him someone had broken into the house, and he only wanted to talk to Bryce, to catch up and see how he was doing. It’d been a slap to my face, but that was the reality. Neil checked out long ago. Now he was demanding to be let back in? A snort came from me. Beth paused hearing it, and I pulled my hands away from her.
The storm had quieted inside me, a tiny bit, but I knew it would come back. I wasn’t going to take this sitting back in a fortress. I knew that much.
Picking up some of the bandages she had laid out by the sink, I started to dress my own wounds. Beth moved back. I felt her gaze, watching me, and just kept doing it. I didn’t stop until both of my hands had ointment applied to them and were wrapped up. When I was done, I glanced at her again.
There was a different look in her eyes. I didn’t know it, and I didn’t care to guess, but I murmured, “Please bring my family here.”
With that said, I went to my room and a standoff commenced next.
A day went by. Nothing. They wanted me to meet with my lawyers so I refused. The longer he held back what I wanted, the longer I’d do the same to my father. My father would knock on my door with demands. I needed to be updated about my case. There were things going on, and I needed to know, but I refused everything. I didn’t want to lash out like the old Sheldon. I’d been through too much crap to know better. I was more mature, dammit, but instead, I had to fight back in a different manner. I went the Gandhi route.
A second day went by. Still nothing, so I stopped going to meals with Neil and Beth. The few times I had sat with them had been tense anyway. It wasn’t any great loss to me. The third day. Again, nothing. This time I just stopped talking to them. Again, no great loss. This was more beneficial to me. The fourth day. Same thing, so I stopped going anywhere within the fortress. I remained in my room.
This kept up for a week.
If this would last another week, I’d stop eating. I didn’t want to do that, but I would. I wanted Bryce and Corrigan there, at least them. Denton would be a cherry on top at this point, but Neil remained steadfast. So after a second week of my silent protesting, I took the trays of food inside, but placed them back outside my room each night. No food was eaten.
Four more days went by.