Page 3 of Vicious Titan

3

Elliot

Brutal. That’s the only way to describe the night. The hot water pelting my shoulders doesn’t help to ease any of the tension. The hours had passed by excruciatingly slow, but the only thing worse were the few minutes I’d drifted off, reliving my never-ending nightmare. Will it ever stop? I’d thought confronting my mother would relieve some of the torment gripping my mind, but I think it’s only made it worse.

Reaching for the faucet, I shut off the hot water. Standing rigid under the cold stream, my fists ball up as I press them against the hard stone of the shower wall, memories of Victoria’s warm body filling my mind. Why can’t I just get her out of my head? The only good thing about dwelling on her is getting a few minutes of peace from hating my mother. As far as I’m concerned, they both can go to hell.

Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower. Unhurriedly, I dry my icy skin, and dress in the assigned uniform for Golden Olympus Academy. It’s the fucking last place I want to be today, but the show must go on. I’ve pretended to be happy since everything happened with my mom. This should be a cakewalk.

By the time I head downstairs, I feel like I have a good grip on myself. At least enough to make it through the day, anyway. I’ll worry about tomorrow later. All my hard work is shot to shit when I see my dad sitting at the kitchen table, reading a damn newspaper of all things.

He notices me standing across the room, so he places the paper on the table, lifts his coffee to his mouth, then sets it down slowly.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still unsure if maybe I’m dreaming, or more likely having another nightmare.

“Good morning to you too, Elliot.”

“Yeah. Great fucking morning.” Grabbing a mug, I pour myself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, I look to the man I rarely see in my presence. He’s not here by chance. He’s here for a reason; he’d be out the door already otherwise.

“You ready for school?”

“Just tell me what you need to say.”

He leans back in the chair, his hands rubbing down the neatly pressed material of his slacks. “I got a call from the treatment facility yesterday.”

Yep. There’s the reason. He always has to have a reason to be here. He’s never here as a choice, only out of necessity. “Okay.”

“Do you want to tell me your side of the story?”

“Nope.”

“Well, then I have to believe what I’m told.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you believe.” I gulp down the scalding liquid, drop the mug on the counter, and head out of the kitchen.

“Elliot, she made it clear she didn’t want you there, so why did you go?” His blunt, uncaring words stop me in my tracks.

I don’t need a reminder that my mother doesn’t want to see me. And I sure as hell don’t need a reminder that going there had been a terrible decision. He wants to see me suffer.

Turning to face him, I plaster on a smile. “Just for shits and giggles. It’s not like I had anything else to do, so I figured why not.”

“Is that why you brought along your girlfriend?”

The morning’s cold shower pales in comparison to the icy daggers his words slice through my chest as I’m unable to keep my fake smile intact. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Really? I was told you were accompanied by a redhead who I can only assume is Richard Hastings’s daughter. You wouldn’t bring just anyone to witness our family’s humiliation, so I’m sure she has to mean something to you.”

“The only humiliation in this family is how fucked up we truly are on the inside while keeping up outward appearances. It’s sickening how long we’ve pretended to be a happy family. And as far as Victoria is concerned, she’s already had a behind-the-scenes look at the shitshow and possesses firsthand knowledge of the humiliation. She’s nothing but my best friend’s pain-in-the-ass little sister, and she sure as hell doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me.” Anymore. She shouldn’t. She can’t.

My fists clench as I glare at him, the person I hate most in the world, even more than Victoria, even more than my mother. He’s studying me as I try to calm myself, but it’s pointless as my chest rises and falls in short, sharp bursts. I’ve failed miserably at acting like I’m not bothered by any of this, especially by him. Of course, that was all shot to hell as soon as Victoria was mentioned, what a freakin’ shocker. Will I ever have control over myself when she is involved?

“Victoria’s been visiting Olivia often—almost every week like clockwork. Were you aware? Or was that little spat in the parking lot when you found out?”

“Have you known all along that Victoria was visiting Mom? When did you find out and how the hell do you know what’s going on when you’ve haven’t been around?”

He shifts, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been in contact with your mother’s doctors. Despite what you might think, I do care about her well-being … and yours. That’s why I’m here. You can talk to me about all of it.”

His words are nothing but BS. What a load of crap … like I’d ever believe he’d give a damn about anyone but himself. But what bothers me more than anything is he’s known Victoria has been visiting my mom the entire time while I’ve been fucking clueless.

“What did your mother say?” he asks hesitantly, a look of concern on his face that makes me sick.

“Go ask her yourself since you’re so concerned about her well-being.”

Turning, I walk out of the kitchen and hurry into the garage. I yank my car door open, drop into the driver’s seat and speed out as soon as the bay door provides enough clearance for my escape. I need to get away. Away from my father. Away from the memories of my mother. Away from this place that houses nothing but misery and despair.

The ride to school is over way too fast as I swing into a parking space, coming to an abrupt stop. My fingers clutch the door handle, squeezing but not pulling it open. I need to get a grip on myself before I head to class because my dad is still fully in charge of my emotions.

Unfortunately, I’m unable to rein in my thoughts before spotting Victoria exiting her car. She’s as aware of my presence as I am of hers. Emerald eyes locked with mine, she stands frozen next to her car. Finally, she breaks the unspoken communication, looking away before walking towards the building—in the opposite direction of where I’m parked. Why did part of me hope she would head my way and say something—anything—in an attempt to slice through the tension between us. It’s highly unlikely any words can fix this. Damn it. There’s no reason it should bother me, but it does. And maddeningly, the vexing feeling roots deeper when she disappears out of view without a glance back in my direction. She won’t be getting off the hook that easy. Not a chance in hell since she’s driven me even deeper into a tortuous nightmare.

I throw the car door open, step out, slam it behind me, then plaster my go-to bogus smile on my face. Pretending nothing gets to me is my specialty. I got this. Shoving the building door open, I slap Zeus on the ass as I pass by. Rubbing the statue of the school mascot is supposed to be good luck, and I need all the luck I can get so my personal Medusa doesn’t turn me to stone. Those damn emerald eyes already make me do plenty of shit I normally wouldn’t do. And I’m reminded of their persuasion when I spot her at the end of the hallway. Flashing a quick glance my way, she heads around the corner. Everything about her lures me in, tempting me to follow. Why do I want to see the pain in her eyes or feel the emotions tearing her to shreds or hear the agony in her voice because something that felt so right was ripped out of her grasp? Or is that just me? Maybe turning to stone would be the easy way out.