They had a chance to have such a life because they lived while I stayed in hell.
I squash the betraying thoughts. They have no place in my new reality, and logically and objectively, they can’t be blamed for what happened.
“Maybe while watching the documentary, you wondered what would have happened if a serial killer like that came and saved you from your uncle. That maybe you’d have a normal life.”
I shake my head, refusing to focus on Dr. Phoenix’s words or see any kind of truth in them.
One of the girls asked me to change shifts with her.
I know they won’t buy my excuse. They won’t push either, though—perks of being considered the baby of the family despite them being younger than me. They all celebrated with me when I got my sort of internship at the library a few days ago, and while my brothers probably think it’s a huge waste of my time, they said nothing and acted all supportive.
I do wonder how long their patience would last.
Plus, working is better than being locked up in the penthouse because even with my classes, I just attend them and rush out without talking to anyone. Everyone is so young there. Which once again makes me feel like a weird outsider.
All right. Have fun, girl. And remember about the family dinner at Aileen’s parents’ house on Saturday.
Ugh, another long-ass dinner. It seems the Scott family loves to throw those, and there is no getting away from them.
I mean, my brother did kidnap their daughter to our island, so we owe them to be on our best behavior and show respect after creating so many problems for them in the first place.
Sure thing. See you there and say hi to Aileen from me.
Resting my head against the car seat, I wonder what would need to happen for me to finally break and let all my emotions out.
One can’t live forever in the prison of their own creation in order to protect those they love, but I will try.
After all, how hard can it be when no one looks beneath the surface anyway?
Him
Walking through the hallway toward the bathroom, I nod at several passing servers who smile at me while the inside of the coffee shop beams with life, annoyingly.
I’ve never found such crowded places entertaining.
Besides, in loud, crowded places, one might never know when the unexpected happens, and while it has a certain beauty, most idiots suck all the fun out of it and end up pissing me off even more.
Patience. Patience. Patience.
One must give awards to the likes of me. Otherwise, they’d be functioning in a rather bloody society if all psychopaths indulged in their vices whenever they pleased.
Reaching the bathroom, I push it open and kick it shut with my foot as the man washes his hands in the sink, checking himself out. “What a stupid bitch,” he mutters at his reflection. “She should be grateful I even paid attention to her.” He chuckles and grabs the paper towel, rubbing the back of his hand over his chin. “If I hadn’t known she was a Wright, I wouldn’t have even looked twice at her.” He stills when he notices me and lifts his chin. “Hey, man.” His eyes widen, and a smile stretches his mouth. “Aren’t you…?”
Whatever he wants to say next turns into an agonized scream when I punch him hard in the stomach and spin him around, slamming his head against the sink, the cracking sound echoing in the space.
The greatest sound in this world is my victims’ endless cries for help, where there will never be one. Only in such a state can they truly understand how they fell into their own trap.
His muffled scream rumbles my palm when I lift him a little and cover his mouth, blood slipping through my fingers, and a thrill rushes through my veins, awakening everything ruthless inside me.
Ah, it would have looked exceptionally good pouring all over my dungeon’s floor. Yet I have neither the time nor the desire to prolong this bullshit.
Besides, I operate on the very strict code that the punishment should fit the crime, and as such, I’ll never go against it.
He might be an asshole who disrespects, fools, and uses women, but he’s not a rapist or a murderer, which means I’ll show him some generosity.
The keyword beingsome.
Spinning him around, I hit him in the face once again, and he stumbles, falling on his back and coughing, spitting blood all around him. “What…what are you doing?” he manages to croak, and whimpers when I kick him hard, rolling to his side and bending his knees. “Why?” Putting the heel of my shoe on his neck, I force him to focus his hazy-from-all-the-pain stare on me. “I’ll sue you,” he warns, as if his threat will have any effect on me.
