No matter how many times or how many ways I tried to say it, it tasted wrong. Because it didn’tfeelright. My heart was peeling apart like an onion, piece by rotten piece until all that was left were tears.
You don’t get to decide who you are to me.
Of all the words she threw at me like grenades, those hit hardest. I hated that she was right. I didn’t get to decide how she felt about me, but I could push her away if it meant keeping her alive. Keeping all of them alive.
The hour drive home transported me into another world- one of pain, guilt, shame and sin that latched onto my soul and drained any good from the boy buried within. Parked in the driveway, I smoothed my palm over the worn leather cover of my journal, begging it to infuse me with some semblance of strength.
The only light in the house flickered from the TV. There was a time when the sight of diffused light flashing through dark rooms meant I needed to go around back or face his fists. A time when desperate pleas and furious roars forced my dinner up my throat and into the toilet. Even with all those ghosts, mom refused to move. She wanted the penance.
I slammed the car door, the sound booming off the sleepy neighborhood street. No one materialized behind the shrubbery. No guns pointed in my face. No blacked-out vans with armed guards. Maybe they were waiting inside. I stalked through the front door, flicking on the lights in the kitchen. Still no ambush.
What game were they playing?
A glance at the bottle of bourbon above the fridge and it barreled towards my outstretched hand. I ripped it open, dumping liquid fire down my throat.
“No welcome party I see,” I announced to the slumped figure on the couch.
“I told you to stay away,” Mom said, void of life.
Another gulp of whiskey. “And I told you I’d come home.”
I wandered past the cluttered counter, snatching up a familiar heading on a letter addressed to mom.
Jane Wallis,
Clarice Wallis has informed us that specimen Oliver Wallis will be delivered to us in accordance with the agreement made by the deceased Grant Wallis. The wire transfer in the amount of 3.4 million can still be processed, split between Clarice and yourself once we have the specimen in custody. Oliver demonstrates that he is the most useful of the attempted biological weapons created from our trial. Hiding his potential from us was a disappointment but can be rectified if he is returned to us willingly. A new informant also mentioned he has made attachments to the other failed weapons. If he does not comply, we will eliminate them all. We look forward to his cooperation.
Sincerely,
Blackthorn of Merit Institute
My eyes stung with a surge of power bubbling beneath. It shredded to curling scraps.
“Ollie-”
“Don’t,” I warned, bourbon burning my lips while stoking the flames of hell that thrived within me. “Where is she waiting to deliver me?”
Mom sat up straighter. “No, you can’t-”
“I can do whatever the fuck I have to,” I snarled. “This is my mess.”
“It’s mine,” she howled, lurching from the couch, crystal blue eyes bloodshot and watery. She was too thin since I saw her last. “I’m the one who didn’t protect my son from these monsters.”
Wrong. So very wrong.
“Your sonisthe monster.”
She sucked in a breath, “Stop it.”
I poured another long pull of bourbon straight on my tongue.
“Funny how they can’t manage to steal me back themselves. At least, they understand I can’t be contained against my will, but I’ll remind them anyway what kind of weapon they created. A deadly one.”
“They’re powerful people, Oliver,please,don’t do this,” Mom begged.
Her tears- I hated her tears.
“Where is Clarice?” I asked, refusing to call that vapid creature my grandmother. Mom’s choking sobs didn’t slow. “I’m going to ask one more time before I find out the hard way. Where. Is. Clarice?”
