QUINTON
I’ve been home for a few days now, spending every waking minute thinking about confronting my father, who is conveniently away on a business trip. Mom and Scarlet have been trying to get me to talk about why I came home early, but I refuse to tell them. I need to talk to him first. I don’t want him to have time to think of an excuse.
Leaning back in his leather office chair, I stare blankly at the framed picture of Scarlet, Adela, and myself that’s sitting on our father’s mahogany desk. At Corium, it was easier to suppress the memories of her, the grief, and the never-ending anger. But back here, everything reminds me of my dead sister. My father’s betrayal only amplifies my misery, and with Aspen being out of reach, I’m in a constant state of insanity.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back and let it rest in the cushy leather. I imagine being back at Corium, burying my face in Aspen’s sunshine-colored hair, and not in my father’s office surrounded by the scents of expensive whiskey, rich leather, and illegal cigars.
My imaginary bubble bursts when I catch the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the hallway. Blinking my eyes open, I sit up straight and watch the door open. My father enters his office, not the least bit surprised that I’m in here waiting for him. Of course, he knows I’m here, but hopefully, he doesn’t know why yet.
“Quinton, I’m glad to see you home.”
Not for long.
I don’t greet him or make a move to get out of his chair. I simply watch in silence as he comes closer, shrugs off his suit jacket, and neatly hangs it over the chair in front of his desk.
As always, his movements are controlled, almost as if he rehearsed this in preparation. He turns away from me and heads toward the wet bar next to the oversized bay window overlooking my mom’s rose garden.
“Fancy a drink?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
I shake my head. Unscrewing the bottle, he pours himself a healthy amount of whiskey before setting the bottle down and bringing the glass to his lips. He downs the entire contents like a shot, and I briefly wonder if he expects what’s coming.
“Go ahead, Quinton. Ask me what you came here to ask.”
“I didn’t come here for an answer. I already know the truth. I came here because I want to hear you say it.”
“Why? It won’t change anything.”
“You owe it to me, that’s why. Now tell me.”
“Yes, I killed her.” I already knew this, but somehow, hearing it from his mouth drives the knife deeper, a knife that’s coated with the pain of betrayal that burns through me. “Are you happy now?”
“Happy might be an odd reaction for getting confirmation that my dad killed my mom.” I try my best to keep my voice even, to hide the rage lingering right beneath my skin.
“Don’t call Tia your mom. Ella is your mom.Tianever deserved that title.” The way he says her name with such disdain only fuels my anger, and I basically spit the next words at him.
“What would you want me to call her? Birth giver, life creator, or genetic mother?”
“You call her nothing!” he yells, catching me off guard. Why is he so furious? I’m the one who has been wronged. “She was nothing to you.”
“Because you made sure of it! You did everything in your power to make her disappear.”
“I did that to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what? Someone who would love me? What did she do to piss you off? Not listen to every one of your fucking rules?”
“My rules are in place to protect you. Everything I fucking do is to protect you, and Tia didn’t love you.” Part of me expected him to say something like that, but still, I’m not prepared for the words. They hit me like a sucker punch to the kidneys, knocking the air right out of my lungs. “She didn’t love you, but that wasn’t your fault.” His voice softens at the last part, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.
“How would you know if she loved me? Did you even give her a chance, or did you take me from her right after she gave birth?”
“Quinton, knowing what happened will only hurt you more. Just let it go.”
“Tell me!” I pound my fists against the heavy wooden desk hard enough to make it quake.
My father sighs deeply before taking a few steps toward the desk and taking the seat across from me.
“She didn’t take care of you the way she was supposed to. She had a lot of issues, but her drug habit was her biggest one. You were born addicted to meth. I didn’t even know about you until the hospital called me, saying Tia listed me as the father. When I got to the hospital, she was already gone. She just left you there.”
“And, of course, you had to hunt her down and kill her.”