“She’s gone, boy,” his father sneered. “And she’s not coming back.”
“I know.”
“And yet you pretend otherwise.” He scoffed. “Staring at that chair won’t bring her back. Nor will crying like some pup denied his mother’s milk.”
“I was not crying.”
“You best not be,” his father growled. “I won’t have a son of mine reduced to tears like a woman. Now, I asked you once to find Mr. Skelter – he has told me already how you have been neglecting your studies. Do not make me ask you again.”
Sebastian felt the anger brewing inside him. He was fourteen, no longer a boy, not quite a man, struggling daily now to be what his father wanted of him – what he expected. And where he knew it to be unwise to argue with his father, to say anything other than complete obedience, he simply could not help himself. Not with how he was feeling…
“You act as if you do not care,” Sebastian snarled, still watching the empty chair.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Sebastian spun about and fixed his glare on his father. “Six months… that is how long it has been since…” He sniffed back the tears. “And not once – not a single time! You do not care about her.”
His father’s dispassionate scowl turned rueful. “I would watch what you say to me, boy.”
“You never loved her,” Sebastian cried. “You only loved yourself! And now that she is dead. You… you… you don’t care at all –”
His father’s hand struck out and slapped him hard. Pain erupted across his face, and Sebastian dropped to his knees as the world turned.
“I loved your mother.” His father stood over him, his breathing heavy. “That I do not cry or weep or mourn for her as you do… it changes nothing!” he hissed. “A weakness that I will not satisfy.”
“I don’t believe you!”
“And I don’t care,” he snarled down at his son. “What I do care for is that you get your ass downstairs at once! And if I haveto tell you again…” His body was shaking. “My belt will be the next thing you feel.”
Sebastian glared at his father as he held the side of his face. “I hate you.”
His father laughed coldly. “You say the words as if I do not already know it.” With that, his father reached for his belt and started to undo it. “But just in case…”
Sebastian’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed.
He was covered in a cold sweat that soaked through the bedding; his night shirt sticking to his body as he breathed heavily. It was still night, he knew himself to have been dreaming, but he looked about the room as if expecting his father to be standing there with his belt at the ready.
Even after all this time, the man still terrifies me. Worse than that, he still ruins my life in ways that I am certain even he could not have predicted.
To calm himself down, Sebastian focused his thoughts on his mother. She had died when he was fourteen, and even to this day, he missed her more than words could ever explain. Growing up, his father had been a cold, strict figure who was more monster than man in Sebastian’s eyes. But his mother… she had been the fire that kept back the cool winter winds, there to protect him and to show him what it was like to be loved.
His parents’ relationship had been a strange one, but as Sebastian grew older, he was forced to admit that love had somehow been found between them. Two more different souls did not exist, and still they had cared for each other. It was a most peculiar relationship.
His mother’s death had changed everything.
Sebastian’s father had become even worse after his mother had died. He had become crueler. More strict. More malevolent and uncaring. He had taken his sorrow out on Sebastian, using his own son as a whipping boy to beat away the pain that he must have felt at losing the woman he loved.
The effect this had on Sebastian should have been obvious – he did not like to admit it, for that would be to admit that his father’s reach extended beyond the grave. But it was undeniable how being exposed to the torture that was a broken heart had shaped him irrevocably.
How could anyone want such a thing? Why would they take the risk, knowing where it might lead? Better to close one’s heart off, never letting in such feelings as love… even happiness. Better for me. Better for those I know and care for.
Still shaking from his nightmare, Sebastian rose from the bed and started pacing the room as he tried to curb his ragged breathing. And as was to be expected, his mind next went to Margot and what had occurred earlier in the garden.
Sebastian had never wanted to fall in love. Seeing how it had affected his father, he figured it was best to avoid such things. Hence, the rakish behavior, the whoring, the philandering that became synonymous with his name. He was protecting himself. He was saving himself from the pain. But also…a part of me always believed I was doing it not just for myself, but for anyone who might dare to get too close to me.
Was that not the point? He believed truly that he was saving Margot as much as he was himself. Or perhaps that was just a lie told to justify his actions. So he could look past the hurt he caused in her because, in the long run, it was for the best.
Only now, he wondered if that made as much sense as he had assumed that it did. How was this helping her? He pictured their fight earlier, the pain in her voice, the anger in her eyes, the suffering inherent in her very being. That was not how this was supposed to happen.
