“There’s beer in the refrigerator and whiskey in the liquor cabinet. Make yourselves at home,” Bones says, pointing to the extensive selection of hard liquors.
Killian walks over to the bar and grabs three glasses before filling them with two fingers of whiskey each.
We sit down and Kill hands us our drinks, but my attention is on Bones. He drags his fingers over his jaw and I can tell something is on his mind.
When he catches my gaze on him he chuckles uncomfortably.
“I want to ask about your childhood, when Frank had you kidnapped, but I don’t want to be intrusive or disrespectful.”
I glance at Carter and he nods his permission.
“Go ahead.”
He leans forward with his drink in his hands.
“You were three when Carter was taken?”
It’s not a time any of us like to discuss, but Killian answers so Carter doesn’t have to.
“We were.”
Bones shakes his head in disgust.
“Atlas is three, and I can’t imagine losing him. Lia is four, and I think she’d lose her mind with grief if someone took her brother. How did you survive a loss so traumatic?”
I’ve thought about this very question so many times and still don’t know how we got through it. How does anyone get through a shitty time? You just do.
“We didn’t have a choice, but it wasn’t easy. I cried constantly, and Kill didn’t get to be a child. By the time we were five, he was taking care of me. Our mother was broken when Carter was taken, and she never fully recovered.” I say in response.
“She has passed?” Psycho asks, and I nod as Carter blurts out, “Yes, he butchered her from head to fucking toe.”
His voice is firm, but I can still hear the pain behind his words.
Reaper is quiet, observing the conversation, but he is well aware of what Frank was capable of.
“I’m sorry. The more I find out about him, the more convinced I am he didn’t suffer enough.” Bones says and I nod in agreement.
That’s something we all agree on. None of us are angry with Bella for killing him. If she hadn’t she would’ve died but fuck we wanted that opportunity. The day we found our mother with blood pouring from her body, we were desperate for revenge. He was going to die for everything he did to us, but by the time we found his location, he was dead. Frank dying re-traumatized Carter all over again, and us too, if I’m honest with myself. Inever thought of it as trauma but merely surviving. Now I’m not so sure. There are things that stay in my mind, never too far from torturing me.
Standing over Carter's hospital bed.
Mom sobbing, her black make-up streaking her face.
Carter crying inconsolably from a simple touch.
And me praying an unanswered prayer for my brother to come back to us.
“Trauma isn’t solely owned by the person who was physically hurt. Carter had it worse than we did, but we had to deal with it too. We got through it because Frank didn’t give us a choice before taking everything from us. Evil people rarely do, which is why we are all here.”
Bones clears his throat, his eyes thoughtful as if he has more questions.
“Carter has expert aim, Killian is a fighter, but what about you?”
I chuckle as it suddenly seems I’m here for a job interview I’m really not sure I want.
“I can get you from zero to a hundred sixty in the blink of an eye. It’s not much of a job-related skill, but it’s really fucking fun. Oh, and I could fillet you in under five minutes. Theoretically, of course.”
Psycho leans forward with his knife in his hand, dragging it over his jaw with obvious interest.
