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They werespitefulwhen they tossed our disappointments in our faces.
They werevindictivewhen they took things away from us when we didn’t showboat in public the way they wanted us to—by being Stepford kids.
They werecattywhen they pushed the only two people who meant anything to us away. Leaving us abandoned—and in a sense, orphaned.
Begrudgingly, I lift up my feet and keep a step directly behind DeMarius, each upward one I climb makes me feel like I’m facing my doom.
My eternal damnation is standing behind closed doors, waiting to drag me back into hell.
Nobody understands the way Marcus McKinnly held us underneath his thumb for years, squashing us just because he could.
People will never understand the way my body quakes when I’m in the same proximity of the man responsible for my birth.
My father isthemonster that lays under my bed, waiting for the right moment to strike. He’sthedark shadow that looms in the corner, waiting to trap me in a nightmare where there’s no illuminating sign showing me how to escape.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been face-to-face with him, and I’m not sure if I’ve grown strong enough to stand up to him. But if he threatens Berkley, all bets are off and the gloves will come off and will be tossed on the ground where I’ll pounce on them. Is it pathetic that I’m more protective over my twin than I am myself? Maybe. And my dad, he knows that Berk is my weakness, one he’ll delightedly use against me if it’ll get him his way.
Spiteful.
Vindictive.
Catty.
It’s time for me to find my own claws so I can scratch his eyes out and make him face the world blind, rendering one of his senses useless. It may not stop him, but it’ll slow him down long enough for me to make my own plan of attack. I’m done being his victim. It’s time he faces the facts, he’s no longer the highest man on the totem pole.
Because his daughter, the one he thinks is a waste of space and is so easily discardable, is fixing to knock him down a peg or two.
I’m fixing to hammer his coffin lid closed and steal all of the oxygen from his lungs. The thing he’s forgotten is that I know his deepest, darkest secrets. A mistake on his part, but an ace in the hole for me. Leaving that black book of his out for me to find will be his biggest downfall, once I figure out how to use it againsthim. I guess it’s a damn good thing that I made photocopies and put them in a safe place to keep them until the time was right.
My biggest question though is why he’s even here? He and my mother disowned us for fuck’s sake. That action alone told me that they didn’t want to be around us whatsoever. The problem with that is the fact that they managed to take away the two most important people in our lives. Something that they’ll both eventually pay for, even if today’s not that day.
I’m starting to wonder if they heard about the trial that Berkley’s going to take part in. He’s been nominated for a trial that’s specifically geared toward those who’re suffering from paralysis. These paralyzed individuals will be hooked up to electronic probes and basically a computer will communicate with his brain, which then will tell his body what it’s supposed to do.
It won’t fix him per se, but it’ll help him stay upright for a limited amount of time. Considering the project is still in the trial phase, the hope is that in time, with test subjects and lots of data for comparison, they’ll have it to where men and women like my brother, will get back a lot of what they’ve lost when it comes to mobility. That right there could be a precursor to my dad thinking he’s on the road of getting his boy, his prodigy back.
Newsflash, this is a temporary solution with no promised outcome. He may one day be able to walk again unassisted, but it doesn’t fix the part of his brain that was injured due to that stupid bitch’s manipulation when it came to my brother at that party.
CHAPTER
FOUR
ARIS
“Aris!We have to get to the gym. Now!” Dad bellows as he pokes his head into my doorway, snapping his fingers at me. “Don’t be a slowpoke, Berlynn’s in trouble.”
“Trouble?” I ask, yanking my keys out of my drawer and shoving them in my pocket as I rush toward the door. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
“The kind that has Marcus McKinnys stamp all over it,” he hisses through a clamped jaw. “The kind that’s fixing to get ugly.”
Holding out my arm, I stop him in his tracks and twist around on my feet and sprint back into my office where I grab the file folder where I’ve been stuffing my research on Marcus and quickly make my way back over to him. “Insurance,” I tell Dad as we pick up the pace and head out of the building that houses our firm.
“You mean blackmail,” Dad teases.
“I would never,” I state, clutching my chest in mock aghast.
“You would. But nevertheless, we have to do this the legal way,” Dad berates, looking at me out of his peripheral.
“There’s always loopholes and ways to skirt around the law, Dad. You know it as well as I do,” I scold, returning his narrow eyed scorn.
