Page 128 of Taint My Soul

So I’ll do the things he’s done.

If I kill… If I hurt someone, if I destroy something, then maybe, just maybe, the guilt of what he had done would die. And he will have something to hold over me for the rest of my fucking life.

Everything feels so overwhelming that my thoughts venture into places I have tried not to think about.

I get off the couch and trudge into the kitchen. A hollow feeling cements in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

There it sits. A utility lighter. Sharp black extended neck glistening under the glow of the amber light.

Just a flicker of the yellow flame kissing my skin. That’s all I need. Just one bite of the heat on my skin makes me feel better. I need an emotion I can control, not this clusterfuck of thoughts storming through my head.

I move toward the object and pick it up, hands shaking as tears gather in my eyes. They don’t fall. My grip tightens. Hard. Visceral. Hands trembling as I bring the lighter to my wrist, over my veins.

I don’t press the ignition guard. With the weapon this close, I can’t bring myself to do it. I’d tried at Genesis when I couldn’t hold it all in, but Bernard was there to stop me.

I place the lighter into my pocket and turn on my heels, returning to the living room.

That’s when I hear a loud, sharp grunt. When I rush toward the window to look outside, my eyes first spot Bernard. He’s lying still on the field, close to his car.

Something else catches my attention, I see him. He appears from the shadows, a dark hoodie hanging over his face.

He smirks and barrels toward the house. Boots thunder outside. Fear paralyzes me on the spot. I’m too lost to the dread slipping into my veins that I’m rooted to the spot. Sharp breaths jolt out of my lungs, and I force myself to move toward the door. Just as he’s about to kick it in, I slam my shoulder against the sturdy wood. He doesn’t retaliate. At least that’s what I think.

But the next second, he comes at the door with his full weight, kicking it open. The door almost coming off its hinges moves me across the floor. I crawl to my feet and back up as the door creaks open, a foreboding chill snaking down my spine.

He steps through the entrance, gun in hand. Fear prickles my skin, raw and insistent. I remain on the floor while he towers over me. “Haven’t you done enough?”

My heart sinks. My belly tightens. A shaky breath tears out of my lungs.

I’m powerless again.

He takes a step closer. “What do you think happened to me when you disappeared for a week?” He unzips his hoodie and tosses it onto the floor. Fresh blade marks linger on his calloused skin. Several gashes from Vincent’s blade and lethal anger.

Why did he have to wait until now to do this? Why didn’t he just kill me at the wedding reception?

“You really think I’ll let you go scot-free.” He roars at me. “I get hurt. You get hurt!” He points the gun at me and takes off the safety. The gesture sends a jolt through me.

He smiles sinisterly.

“You dragged me into this. I escaped.” I choke out. “I escaped.” I reiterate, even though I never really escaped him. Physically, I might have fought my way out of that cage. But David Layton had crippled my mind my whole life. He’d taken everything from me.

He laughs.

“Your parents dragged you into this.”

“You killed them!” I roar as anger twists a dagger into my heart. My eyes flare in raw shock, and I surge up to my feet. “I’m nothing like him. I’m nothing like him.” I whisper to myself. “You took my parents away from me.” My voice roughens, becoming unrecognizable, almost monstrous. “Vincent is gone, and you could have left all this behind, but you came here to hurt me!” I stab my finger into my chest. He stands there staring at me as if I don’t exist, as if my words mean nothing. “I have turned down every good thing in my life because of you…” I stutter, my expression hardening with jarring anger. “You…” I bark, hands shaking as anger slithers around my skin. “You fucking ruined my life…” I point at him with a shaking hand. My voice comes out small where I expect it to come out furious.

Right there and then. His resolve breaks.

“Shut up!” he rages, voice cracking like thunder. “Shut up!” He moves toward me in the snap of a finger, and he suddenly halts, turning away from me. “I gave you a life. You should be grateful. I took you in. I took care of you, and you don’t fucking know how good you’ve had it.” He lifts the gun and slams it playfully against his temple.

The realization dawns on me. No matter what I say, he’s never going to see the damage he’s done. Even if I played every single horrifying moment of my life like a movie, he wouldn’t believe me because he’s the good guy. The saint. The man who hasn’t wronged anyone his whole life.

He’s too close now. Too distracted.

I barrel toward him and take him down to the floor. A grunt escapes his lips when his back collides against the floor. The gun slides out of his hand, and he slams his fist into my jaw, knocking me over.

The gun’s closer to him now.