Kaya nods. “I was nine. And somewhere along the line, I stopped feeling altogether. I stayed silent through all the beatings, and when I’d get locked up, chained to the fucking wall, I’d just shut off. Like a machine — the very same my father wanted. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he realized what happened. He was so fucking proud of himself.”
A bitter tone laces her tongue, and she continues staring at me.
“When I turned eighteen, I came to the States too to receive an education. My brother took over the part of the business in New York, and I was living with him. He immediately noticed something off. Still, I refused to tell him about what used to happen at home while he was gone. Until one day, he forced me to see a doctor. After tests and tests and being probed by needles and injections, after having spoken to at least a dozen different doctors, they gave a clear diagnosis.”
“A diagnosis?”
“Antisocial personality disorder and borderline personality disorder, a condition known as comorbidity.”
Realization dawns on me, and suddenly, everything makes sense. She has an actual reason for being as cold, as distant, and as emotionless as she is. From a happy, lively child, she was forced to become someone with no regard for right or wrong.
“You’re a sociopath?”
“I hate that term.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t pity me. I hate that even more.”
“I wasn’t—”
She cuts me off with a glare, and I clamp my mouth shut.
“Anyway, after I received an official diagnosis, I was a fucking mess. I was in and out of rehab for drugs and alcohol, and all I did was leave bodies behind. If anyone so much as looked at me the wrong way, they were dead.”
“Doyou regret it?”
“Not at all,” she says, sitting up. “I can’t feel regret. I’d never bother myself with such useless emotion. But that’s not why I’m telling you all of this.”
“Then why are you telling me all of this?”
“I found comfort in drugs, just like you. Until I shifted all the anger toward the person who’s directly responsible for all of it.”
“Your father,” I finish the sentence, and she nods.
“I killed him recently, too. It was such a liberating moment, Blair. I’ll never get back the youth, the innocence he stole from me, but at least I know that he died by the monster he made. Which is why I believe you need the same.”
“I’ll kill Simmons when the time comes.”
“I know you will,” she nods. “But I’m not talking about him here. Who’s the reason all of this even started in the first place?”
“My biological father.”
“Start there.”
“I would, but I have no idea where he is.”
“I do.”
TWENTY-SIX
The darkness of the narrow hallway is suffocating. Kaya’s walking in front of me until we reach a metal door. Everyone else is either busy training or sent on some missions, since Aria wanted to make sure everything continues to flow smoothly without Arlo, Hudson, and Noelle present.
Kaya pushes the door open, then starts walking down the flight of stairs. The only light comes from the small lamps on the walls that are scattered around. The sound of her heels clicking echoes around us, and I follow suit, trying to keep up.
“How long has he been in here?”
“A while,” Kaya mutters. “Though, Arlo wasprobably waiting for the right opportunity to tell you. Given the recent events, I don’t blame him for forgetting.”
