Page 2 of Lilies from Hell

“Mom!” he screamed. His gaze fell on the knife I was still holding without even realizing it and my red-stained clothes. “What have you done to her!?” He threw himself on the floor to embrace our mother’s corpse. “Why did you do this? You’re evil. Very evil,” he stammered between sobs, staining his pajamas with fresh blood.

Why? I didn’t know myself, but I think I would have done it a thousand times over. Was I evil for that? Maybe, but I didn’t care. She didn’t deserve to live. She was that word my father loved to use all the time with other girls… a bitch.

Three years later, in Toronto.

Age 13

I hated the new school my father had enrolled me in. I hated getting up early, and I hated being around other people.

“I’ll wait for you here at 3:30 p.m., not a minute more, not a minute less, understood?” he muttered beside me before putting a lit cigar to his lips.

I nodded, devoid of any emotion. I was already more than used to his harsh tone and brusque manner. For him, we would always be in a training camp, regardless of the place or situation.

I walked toward what would be my classroom for the new school year. I paid little attention to the students who were milling around with the obvious intention of avoiding getting in my way. Once in the classroom, I sat down at one table next to the large windows. I was grateful that no one sat next to me when the students filled the classroom. Perhaps it had more to do with the girl who died last year than with the apathy I conveyed.

The class was more boring than usual. The shaded scribbles in my notebook turned into words that reflected what I really wanted to be doing instead of sitting in a stupid chair listening to nonsense. Things that included the girl who was sitting a couple of tables to my left and kept looking at me.

At break time, I didn’t hesitate for a second to go down to the cafeteria. I could say that the only good thing about that place was the food, if it hadn’t been because today they had what I liked least. Pizza. I ended up just taking an apple and a glass of orange juice, then looked for an empty table.

I walked over to it and sat down, dropping the tray abruptly. First, I took a bite of the apple, watching the others make noise and socialize with each other. Far from bothering me, not having friends was something I enjoyed more than I would admit. People disgusted me. Even I often disgusted myself.

I was about to drink my juice when a distant noise caught my attention. A group of kids at a table were laughing uncontrollably. In the middle of them was a redhead moving almost under the table, until she lifted her head from under the table and placed a metal pink bottle with ribbons on it. For a few moments, I watched as her cheeks turned slightly red and her lips moved, saying something to her friends with an angry look.

Throughout the entire break, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. There was something about her that really caught my attention. Maybe it was her hair color. It was something I had only seen in movies.

I finished the apple and threw the leftovers in the trash, completely forgetting about the juice and the tray. Then I quietly left the place. My curiosity became overwhelming. Some of her friends were with her. They were an obstacle to distinguishing her hair among the crowd despise its unusual color. I gritted my teeth in frustration as I tried to dodge the other students on the stairs until I stopped near classroom number 126.

Those were the fourth-grade classrooms. The girl was three grades below me.

“Your father is waiting for you outside,” whispered Anna, the nanny who took care of us, in that affectionate tone she always used. Sometimes I didn’t like it.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied, staring at the meat next to the rice.

“Are you sick?” I shook my head, not entirely sure of it. I wasn’t sick, but I hadn’t been feeling well for the last few days. “My brother isn’t coming?”

I didn’t really care, but I didn’t want to go through this alone.

“No. He’s tired,” Anna replied, avoiding the real reason he wasn’t coming.

I already knew why. It wasn’t hard to guess from the screams coming from his room every night. I nodded and left the kitchen.

My father’s eyes rested on me with a dangerous gleam as soon as I opened the back door of the truck and sat down in the back. Two burly men were sitting next to me, one on my left and one on my right.

“Today I want to introduce you to someone. As my heir.” My stomach twisted even more with a bad feeling that I ignored.

A house, much smaller than mine, was the first thing I saw when I got out. I entered the main room with the others behind me. My eyes darted around the room, searching for whatever was making my stomach twist so uncomfortably.

Hearing someone else's footsteps on the stairs, my eyes fell on a man.

“You finally show up!” he said, shaking my father’s hand before giving him a brotherly hug.

“This is my son, Alekei,” my father replied, patting me on the back.

The man’s eyes rested on mine, waiting for me to say something, until he gave up on receiving a warm greeting from me and spoke.

“Nice to meet you, Alekei.”

“Stay here, we’re going to talk about grown-up things.” The gentle tone of my father was more than a little feigned. He then ruffled my black hair. I clenched my teeth, resisting the urge to bite his hand off. He always did things like that when we were in public.