Maybe I should just be a businesswoman. Start my own auto shop once I learn how to handle cars. Oh, and I haven’t had the chance to go to the junkyard yet. ‘Course, I have to buy some paint and rollers or brushes or whatever it is that you use for cars. Wait, he said for me to paint more bikes. Well, I can practice painting both cars and bikes. How about that? And then I can get really good at it. Detailing bikes can cost thousands of dollars. It’s a highly detail process. You don’t just slap on some paint to it and call it a day.
But it’s been one fucking hell of a day as it is. I’m not in the mood to paint, and I know that if I’m able to convince Max to let me paint some, that I’ll have to paint when I have to, whether I’m in the mood or not. For now, though, I still have the luxury of deciding what I want for myself.
That freedom won’t last much longer. Once I reach college, I have to do whatever my advisor says, whatever my teacher says. I’ll have to earn the grades and earn a spot in law school, and that won’t be easy. As much as I can, I want to be able to do things legally.
Speaking of, should I legally change my name? That’ll leave a paper trail, won’t it? Fuck. How can I get out from my father’s shadow? Is that even possible?
Mom. I left her behind. I abandoned her body for my father to do whatever he wanted with it. How could I have done that?
But what choice had I had? If Father knew I had been in his room, would he have killed me too? What has been going through his head ever since I left? Ever since he became a killer? I'm sure he hasn't been brought in to face justice for his actions. Maybe he lied and said that someone broke in. Maybe he pinned it on a maid. Who knows? But I'm willing to bet he doesn't feel any guilt for what he did.
Did he ever love my mom? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s why he didn’t have her come around to the bar or to the upper floor where he held his meetings for the Thunder Crows. He had me come around for the first time when I was ten. Not that I did much more than learn a few of the guys’ names. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I started to come over once a month. By the time I was fifteen, I was there every week. It was shortly before I turned seventeen that he had me sleep with that other president’s son.
I wouldn’t say I hated myself or my father for his role in forcing me to sleep with a guy I didn’t love. After all, I didn’t love Austin, but I slept with him. I’m just glad that I lost my virginity to the guy I chose. And actually, I do love Austin, just as a friend. What the hell is he up to anyhow? Him and Katie. God, I miss them both so much.
But no, I didn’t hate my father for that. I didn’t even hate myself for giving in and not telling him no. It wasn’t until later that I realize just how manipulative that my father is that I hadn’t hated him for it. Any sane daughter would’ve.
But he had been grooming me. He wanted me to take over.
Now? Who knows who the fuck will take over for him. I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’s a fucking jackass, and I know he’s going to rot in hell one day. Someday, he’s going to piss off the wrong person, and he’s going to realize that there’s a fish who is bigger than he is, and he’s going to be the one to end up belly up.
I just wish I could be around to see it, but so be it. He’ll get what’s his. Sure, I wish I could be the one to do him in, but I won’t be. I’ll never see him again. It’s safer for me that way.
Maybe it’s safer for him too.
Not that I think I have it in me to actually kill him or anyone else. I might have a bit of a temper, but to be a killer? That’s a whole side of evil and darkness that I don’t have in me.
Or at least I hope I don’t have in me.
I mean, being a murderer isn’t heredity.
It’s not.
It can’t be.
But Katie… I miss her. She always helps to ground me. Fuck. There has to be a way I can contact her that won't get back to my father.
But would it be worth it?
No way in hell. I can’t risk my father finding me, no matter what.
So I’m all alone, all on my own.
So fucking be it.
The purr of a motorcycle sounds, and I glance over my shoulder to see Brett there. He’s gunning for me, a reckless grin on his face, and if it weren’t for him heading straight for me, I might admire the way his long legs straddle his iron beast, but no, he’s not turning away. He’s going to hit right into me.
I wait for him to pull away, trying to call his bluff, but he doesn’t turn, and when he’s almost on top of me, I dive to the side and fall awkwardly on my shoulder. Blinding pain shoots through me, and I can’t use my left arm to brace myself to sit up. I have to roll over to my other side and use my right hand to sit up.
My left arm hangs awkwardly. I fucking popped out my shoulder.
Gritting my teeth, I force my legs to straight and stand.
Brett, of course, halted right near me. “You distracted me,” he says with a smirk.
I stalk right up to him, hoping I’m not grimacing or showing any sign of pain even though every single step sends stabbing echoes of pain throughout my arm. My teeth grit, and I stab his chest with a finger from my right hand.
“You better leave me the hell alone, or else I’m gonna sick my father on you.”
“Oh, boy.” Brett laughs. “Your daddy. He doesn’t scare me, darling.”
“You don’t understand,” I say darkly. “I’m the daughter of a killer, and my father won’t hesitate to kill again.” I tap a finger to my chin. “Or else, maybe killing runs in my blood…”