“I hate him more.”
“I hate him too.”
“But you love him, right?” Matt sounded small. A lot like the little boy he had once been. The little boy who was never been given the entirety of his father’s attention or affection.
Not like me.
Lucky, lucky, Daddy’s girl.
“Yes, I love him.” I sounded defensive. I hadn’t meant to be.
Defensive. Offensive. Bitter. Proud.
“I don’t. I just hate him.”
“Then hate him.” He didn’t need my permission to feel how he did.
“Why don’t you? How can you not? After everything he did?” Matt sounded confused. Bewildered. His emotions a tangled mess mirroring mine. The same but so different.
“I don’t know. I just can’t.” I tried to speak louder but couldn’t.
The truth was easier in whispers.
“He always loved you best. If he was able to love anything, it was you.” Matt spoke as though it were a curse. It was. My curse. My beautiful cursed blessing.
I didn’t say anything. There was no need. No one would ever understand the relationship I had with my wonderful, horrible father.
The Nautical Killer.
“You feel it, don’t you? The parts of him that live inside us?” Matt asked hatefully.
“Not inside you, Matt. Never.”
“Yes, inside me too.”
“No, Matt. Not you. That kind of darkness will never belong to you.”
“If it’s not inside me, it’s not inside you either. You’re not him. You never will be. I don’t care how much he loved you. I don’t care that we are here because of him. Nature versus nurture, right? And Mom wasn’t a monster.” He was trying to convince himself. Was he succeeding?
“Mom was a monster,” I countered.
The worst kind of monster.
Matt didn’t argue. How could he possibly defend the woman that had killed herself and abandoned her children? Taken the coward’s way out? She was able to sleep while we tossed and turned.
She had left us to bear the brunt of this alone because of her inability to see the ugly truth in the man she married.
She was just as evil, just as wicked, as the killer that had shared her bed.
I hated them both.
But only one still owned pieces of my inconceivable love.
“Do you ever think about going to see him?” Matt asked, and that was one answer I could answer easily and without hesitation.
“No. Never.”
It had been three days since Elian had left my house. After he had told me the things I already knew.
About his sister.
About Amelia.
She is where it all began for him.
She was the reason for his mask.
She would be the reason for breaking it.
I needed to talk to him. He was avoiding me. I wasn’t entirely sure where he was. I had a moment of fear that he had left. Without saying a word.
I had seen the look in his eyes when I told him the truth about who I was. The truth I hadn’t planned on him ever finding out.
I was stupid.
Leaving the folder in the drawer like that. But Elian wasn’t something I had been able to plan.
He slid into my life and made himself comfortable. He had turned things on their head and I was trying to find my footing.
Topsy turvy, dizzy and sick. I couldn’t see ahead but the behind me was clear.
I’m so sorry, baby, baby girl. My Layna. Pick up the pieces and carry them home.
Words like ice picks. They hurt. They burned.
Make it right, Layna. Make it better.
What could I do?
I went by the custom shop thinking I could at least find him there.
I walked in, and Margie looked up from her perch behind the counter.
Margie, Margie, Margie, your hate will get you nowhere.
“Get out,” she snarled. As if her words could make me fear her. As if her threat carried any sort of weight.
“I’m looking for Elian.” I walked towards the back of the shop where the door to the studio was.
“He’s not here,” Margie said. So much venom. So much animosity.
I frowned.