Dino
Viola.
Who the fuck hurt you?
Because I’m going to gut them when I find out and make them eat their own entrails….
What’s wrong with you Kardinal?
Why are you making promises you can’t keep?
I step out of the shower and dry myself off, glancing at my phone screen as it flashes with a new notification. I throw some clothes on before picking it up. It’s a message from my fucking brother, of all people.
I don’t read it straight away knowing any message from the twisted bastard will give me anxiety. I don’t do well with anxiety. It tends to make me do things I’ll regret, and I have way too many of those to contend with right now.
Namely, Viola.
Not that I regret meeting her, but since she’s turned up, everything’s gone to the fucking dogs. It’s not lost on me how much she’s affected my life already. I’m jumping through fucking hoops every day to please her. And for what? To prove I’m someone she can trust? The worst part is, I don’t even trust myself around her. I don’t care if she’s older.What kind of sick fuck would I be if I took advantage of her, knowing she’s been a victim of abuse just like the rest of us?
She didn’t have to say it outright. I could see it in her eyes that night at the boathouse. Someone hurt her. Someone fucking close to her hurt her. Maybe that’s why she does what she does? Because she can’t want to do those things to the perverts she targets.
Can she?
I sure as hell don’t.
Downstairs, Jude walks in just as I enter the kitchen. He’s alone, which is a first.
“Beer?” I ask him as I head to the fridge.
“Sure,” he says, throwing his keys on the counter.
I take out two bottles of some foreign import and uncap them. I pass one to Jude, unable to help noticing both his knuckles are as red raw as a slab of meat.
“Oh just some prick,” he says, as he sees me eyeing his hands. “Thought I was hitting on his girlfriend.”
“Were you?”
“Of course,” he snorts, taking a swig of his beer.
I chuckle with him and take a drink, just as my phone vibrates again. I can’t keep ignoring my brother so I check my messages, gut-wrenching when I see his fucking update.
“You look like I fucked your mother,” Judes says, taking another mouthful of his beer.
“Worse,” I say. “Kristian’s back in London.”
Jude’s brows raise. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought he couldn’t come back? Isn’t there a warrant out for his bloody arrest?”
I shrug. “No fucking idea. But I need to go. Family meeting.”
“Fuck em. You’ve got your money. Tell them to go screw themselves.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “I wish I fucking could, mate. I wish I could.”
I smokea cigarette before getting on my bike. The air is damp and smells like rain as I take the slick roads dangerously fast. Refreshing…after the evening I’ve had.
As if calling a favor with the family to haul a body wrapped in plastic sheeting to my uncle’s crematorium wasn’t enough to deal with, I had to go back and scrub the classroom with bleach from the gymnasium store cupboard. It was swimming pool bleach, strong enough that the effect was the same, and untraceable. But using it made my fucking eyes tear up.
When I first looked inside the storage cupboard, the callous way she stuffed Mr. Hans into it almost made me gag, and I’ve seen some shocking sights. ‘Handsy’ they call him. Because he was all about the sly fucking grope with the students of Royal Deacon when no one was looking. I was planning on teaching the fuck a lesson after he tried it on with me.