Your loving father,
Pearson Santi
My head snaps up to be met with Zain’s cold, impassive stare. “This can go one of two ways, songbird. We can burn this place to the ground and everyone in it. We can be together as one…”
My heart sinks. He means Suzanna and Bella.
“Or you can go to the police, tell them everything I’ve done and your father has done. Try to live out your days in solitude while I rot in a psych ward.”
I would be stupid to think he would ever allow the latter. This is another one of his mind games, but what he doesn’t realize is he doesn’t need to do this anymore. I will willingly walk into the darkness with him until my dying breath. He is all I have left, and despite his unorthodox, sick tendencies, I can never let him go.
“Don’t misunderstand me, songbird,” he interrupts my thoughts when words elude me. “I’m not ashamed of our connection, if anything it brings us closer. I am offering you all of me without the humiliation that would undoubtedly come along with it. No onewouldaccept us. No one’s gotta know. As if I give a fuck, but I knowyoudo,” his harrowed voice rasps. I wet my lips and get to my feet. I wobble slightly and catch myself on the bed. My body is still weak from the adrenaline and sex. “Do the innocents have to die?” I peer up at Zain’s tired eyes. His face remains stoic and unbothered, but no less exhausted.
“Yes.”
“You know I choose you, but—”
He cuts me off. “But you’re not capable of such malice and disregard?” he finishes and crosses his arms. A cruel smirk forms over his face. “I am.”
His callous words no longer have the same effect. I expect nothing more than cruelty and sinister intentions from him.
“I choose you.”
He smirks. “Good. Didn’t have a problem taking you by force if you declined.”
I narrow my eyes. “So why pretend to give me a choice!” I throw my hands up.
He slinks forward and grips my chin, forcing my eyes on his. “You like the illusion of freedom, and I love taking it from you,” he taunts.
***
Half an hour later, I change into a comfortable pair of ripped jeans, a T-shirt, and an oversize sweater. Zain doesn’t bother changing out of his bloodstained clothes like a psycho, though he did steal a button-down from Pearson’s wardrobe.
He leads me out of the estate, hand in hand. I slip the letter in Pearson's safe. Somebody will find it. I don’t bother to pack anything. Like him, I want to leave the hollow memories of this place behind me and start anew. His black Lincoln Continental is still parked in the same spot as we descend down the weathered stone steps.
Leaving the harrowed remnants of our sullied memories behind, he drops my hand to dig in his pocket, producing a single match. He zips it across the hood of his car. The dancing flame flickers across his face as he wears that sinister grin.
“We. Are. One,” he repeats to me before flicking it in the bushes.
I watch in the rearview mirror as flames engulf the only home I’ve ever known. It burns brightly along the horizon, and I shed a single tear for the innocent lives lost. Zain is utterly silent next to me. I sink into the seat, and my hand drifts along the cool leather interior to meet his. He allows me to touch him, which is a start. We have a long way to go in our journey together. Zain may not ever open up, but I am determined to show him he is capable of drowning out his demons. The unimaginable trauma he must have endured as a child will stick with him the rest of his life. My only hope is that I can replace those haunted memories with better ones.
Pearson and Amelia failed him the same way they failed me. They should have tried harder to get Zain the help he required. Instead of being the loving caring parents he needed, they discarded him, pawning him off to another family in hopes they could correct the irreparable damage, but by then it was too late. He was alone too long in his own fucked-up thoughts. It continued to fester until he turned into a maniacal, detached shell; a dangerous heir of abomination. All he knows is neglect and hatred and how to wield it like a knife.
I know all too well how busy Pearson was. His love was a double-edged sword. He loved me in his own way but never made time to spend with me. Instead, he thought he could buy my affection, as if that was enough. He was too concerned with raising the perfect daughter. It grew even worse after Amelia died.
My mind begins to wonder about the future as my eyes stay trained out the window, letting my inner thoughts swirl like a churning maelstrom.
“What if someone asks questions. Do you think anyone else knows about…who we really are?” I finally ask, slipping a glance over my shoulder.
Zain’s eyes stay glued on the quiet, dark road ahead. “Don’t know. Gonna talk to Roland,” he says with reluctance. I know how much he hates him. Roland isn’t a bad guy, but Zain’s standpoint is he is too far gone and too fucked-up to let anyone in, including Roland. It’s his defense mechanism. It’s unfortunate Roland had to face the brunt of the problems Pearson caused, but he loves Zain despite it all. Roland Lark isn’t a bad guy.
The car ride is quiet, and I’m dying to uncover more about his childhood. “What happened before Pearson?” I dare ask.
My question takes him off guard, and he goes rigid. He’s silent for a beat. I almost think he won’t answer me at all, but his detached voice cuts through the grating silence. “Pearson and Amelia adopted me when I was two. Don’t remember much before that. What I do remember is sitting at the orphanage and playin’ in the corner while they spoke to the head charge. Guess she said I was abused. Burned with cigarettes.
Locked in closets. Starved.”
He rips his hand away from mine to clutch the steering wheel. It makes me wonder how things would have played out if Pearson was the father he was supposed to be. Zain needed therapy, unconditional love, and healing. Instead he got none of that. If it was anything like my upbringing, they showered him with money and clothes, which were only distractions for him. It explains why he hates frivolous things now despite his wealth. I can imagine what the endless nightssitting alone in his room did to his mental well-being over time.“I’m sorry.”
