Page 133 of Make You Mine

“S-so you killed him out of anger?”

His shoulders sag.

“You don’t understand, Little Demon. Devon was…perfect. He was the good son. The one my father liked most. The one he favored. He never laid a hand on him. And he had to go and take away the only good thing I had going, right before I could do something about it?”

I find myself speechless. My stomach is in knots, conflicted with his actions and the helplessness he must have felt. I want to sympathize with him, but at the same time, what he did is unforgivable.

“We never talked about it, because my father made me promise not to say anything. Repressing was his way of dealing with things. Ignoring. No grieving, no shit. We shouldn’t ever show weakness. He didn’t want to scare you and your mother off, our chance at a new life. So, I kept it in and tried to pretend it never happened. I got pretty good at it. Concealing my feelings.” He pauses, then lets out a short laugh.

It’s a nervous tick, I’m sure.

“So yeah, Madelyn, when I was fifteen, I set my house on fire with my brother inside and pretended it was an accident. And my father covered up my lie. You experienced the good version of this family, but the truth is our history is much darker than the surface you scraped.”

That brings one question to mind, one that I’m afraid to ask.

“What about your mother? You told me she died.”

“You remember that.” He scans me, looking for what I think is any trace of terror.

“I remember everything you’ve ever said, Kayden.”

The good and the bad. No matter how many years have passed.

“Wanna take a guess at how she died?” He scoffs. “My father killed her, the bastard. He did that in one of his fits of rage when Devon and I were kids. Are you surprised I turned out to be a monster?”

“That’s…” I hesitate, my chest hurts for him despite the terrible actions he’s confessing. “That’s horrible. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t. My father is an exceptional actor. He’s so good, he fooled you and your mother into forming a family, covered up my mother’s murder, and then my brother’s. Money can buy a lot of things, and silence is one of them. With money, you can get away with anything.”

Tears well in my eyes.

Kayden has had to deal with a lot more than I thought. His bullying isn’t less because of that. The harm he caused me through the years isn’t diminished because of his experiences.

Yet, I want to protect him and hold him tight. Hug him and be there for him. It’s clear no one ever has. I want to be that person.

“Did he ever—?” I try to force the words out. “Did he ever…hurt you?”

He laughs. “You have no idea what this man did to me. While you got the family-friendly version of my father during Friday dinners, I got the demon inside. He used his belt on me more times than I can count throughout my childhood.” His breath quickens. “It was always me, the one defying him. The one who tried to do everything he wanted but wasn’t good enough. And do you remember what he did? After the incident we had in college? He sent me to the military. Thanks for that, sis.”

He frowns and takes a moment to continue.

“And when I ran away—because fuck everything— and after never even looking for me, he just called me one day out of nowhere, nonchalantly, to say he was taking me out of his will. Even if he died, he wouldn’t leave me a penny.” There’s venom in his voice, fire in his eyes.

“I had to live on the streets for a while after I ditched the military, but I was happier, Maddy. You know why?”

He isn’t really asking me, but still allows a second for me to respond.

“Because I knew there wouldn’t be another day of his beatings. I was fucking free. So, maybe, in a sense, I need to thank you for that, too. It might have felt like a punch to the gut at the time, because I thought you were pushing me away, beating me at my own game, but in the end, you did me a favor. But yeah, the fucker beat the shit out of me for years.”

I let out a deep exhale.

I had no idea about any of this. The abuse of Kayden’s father, though, in retrospect, makes sense. All the bruises he disguised as self-inflicted. The make-up I caught him using.

Was I that naive to believe him when I was doing the same? Hiding bruises that he gave me? The bruises he left me with weren’t intentional, though. He didn’t hit me. He never laid a hand on me.

“Do you think my mother—does she know?” My jaw tightens. “Do you think he hit her, too?”

“Oh, yes, she definitely knew.”