Savage Rage, page 23
In most cases when things like this happen, the culprit is usually someone you know and trust.
Who else but Christina?
David planted seeds of doubt this morning and I can’t ignore them.
Besides, Christina’s cryptic texts aren’t helping her case either.
I’m inclined to doubt her, but I know Noah doesn’t want to hear that.
She’s his mother after all.
“You’re right about that,” Noah says quietly. “I just need to make sure first, is all. Miscommunication sucks and I won’t let it get in our way. I won’t let us jump the gun just because we’ve failed to fucking talk to each other, do you understand me?”
I listen to the steady, sure beat of his heart.
I play with the rings on his fingers and breathe him in.
“Yes,” I mumble.
“I’ll get you your answers,” he says, kissing the crown of my head. “I swear.”
I don’t want to push him, so I drop the rest of my suspicions, vowing to confront the bull by its horns, by myself if I have to.
I suddenly feel dizzy for a second.
“You okay?” Noah rushes, his gaze narrowed on me.
My automatic reaction to that question has always been to say yes. That I’m great. That I’m super fine, but after the rollercoaster of pain, rage, and a = mindless state of madness, I’m just too raw to lie.
“No,” I whisper. “And I don’t think I’m going to be okay for a while.”
I can feel the depression coming.
It’s as if my subconscious is slowly slipping into a dark, muddy place.
“That’s all right,” he whispers back. “I’ve got you. Always.”
I look up at him. This man…
“You’ve earned points to take a breath, but your mind’s telling you that you’re to blame for everything and that’s not true so fucking breathe, Kimmy. Cry if you feel the urge. I’m here now.”
“Are you?” I croak. “Are you really here or you’re setting me up for heartbreak? Because if you are, Noah, I won’t be able to survive it.”
They say the truth hurts.
But I say it hurts even more when you’re looking into the eyes of man who is as unpredictable as Noah is.
“The only think I’m setting you up for is a life with me, baby,” he murmurs, the dark notes in his voice pretty clear. “And just so you know, I’ve always been right behind you. Even when I hated you, you have to know, I’ve been right here, watching you.”
As he says those words, I can’t help but remember the unexpected shit that happened during the time he and I were, you know, trying to ice each other out.
There was the time we almost got our water and power cut because of unpaid bills… they called and apologized profusely for making a mistake.
Then there’s the time Casey fell and fractured her ankle; the medical bills were also covered anonymously.
He’s always been watching, hasn’t he?
“You’re allowed to stare at my handsome face anytime, baby, but I hardly think now’s the time to be in lust with me.” I scoff. He smirks. “Now come on, let’s go. Our girls are waiting.”
Our girls.
For the thousandth time since I met this man, I think I die and come alive just a little bit more.
But isn’t that the point of falling in love with someone?
To be a little bit better than we were before them? A little more alive? A little more conscious of the world and everyone living in it?
Because if it’s not making you see yourself more, understand yourself more, is it really love?
24
Noah
Well, fuck this shit.
I glance at the huge antique clock on the wall of the den where I’ve been sitting for the past few minutes? Hours?
03:35.
Soon, it will be daybreak, but I feel so fucking restless and antsy, I can hardly relax.
I grab another bottle of Jack Daniels from the table beside me where I stashed five bottles earlier right after the girls finally went to sleep.
Hours ago, I watched Kimberly be reunited with her little sisters in a show full of tears, broken sentences of comfort and clinging to each other until their skin turned red.
I saw the genuine, pure love and admiration Lolo and Casey have for their big sister.
It was hard to miss the relief in Kimberly’s tear-filled eyes as she hugged both of them for a pretty long time while the rest of us idiots watched on.
The three of them, along with Ivy and Spider are the only human beings I know with a strong sibling connection.
Astraea and George, well, they should be part of that short list, but currently, they hold the worst ranking in sibling relations—and they used to have the best one. They’re twins after all.
With how everything went down between them, they’re the worst example in the damn book.
So, seeing Kimberly, Lolo and Casey huddled together like that, on the damn carpeted floor of King’s mansion, was a sight for sore, jaded eyes.
Emmett turned away first—which was fucking surprising seeing as he potentially has a sister nobody wants to acknowledge—including him. Hell, the girl was right there tonight, at the far edge of the room, looking like an imposter.
I should feel sorry for her but after the words George and I exchanged earlier, I don’t give a fuck.
King was moved, I could tell. He’s never experienced the joy and curse of having a sibling.
As for George, well, I don’t fucking care about that asshole.
But for me, watching my three girls crying like that, fear still present in their eyes, it was too much for me.
I had a brother I thought the world off, once. And now he’s dead.
“Your mother pulled the trigger.”
I wince, shaking my head, choosing to focus on my girls instead.
What broke my damn heart is how Lolo and Casey were hesitant to greet Kimberly at first.
They chose to hide behind Emmett and King, watching their sister warily.
Laura in particular is so much like Kimberly that she held back for a full three minutes, studying Kimberly with shrewd, hesitant eyes that studied her from head to toe.
Then when Kimberly took two steps toward her, dressed now in a comfy black tracksuit after our shower in my bathroom, she whispered Kimberly’s name with a tiny, shaky voice that revealed the fear she must’ve felt throughout the day when that bitch Brittney took her and Casey.
“I knew it wasn’t you,” Lolo cried, clinging to Kimberly.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I did what you always tell me. I kept Casey safe.”
“I know you did,” Kimmy cried, hugging her tight. “I’m so proud of you. Both of you.”
That exchange alone was enough to spark back the flames of anger in me.
I had to leave the damn room, going straight out of King’s mansion while pretending to take Chubby for a walk around the estates.
The boys weren’t fooled though. They could see I could barely hang on.
Spider passed me Chubby’s personalized Fendi leash and off we went.
I was concerned that I might ruin the mood with the realization that was breaking through to the core of my fucking cursed being.
How could I stand there and pretend like my family and I didn’t have a part in bringing trauma to this precious little family?
If it wasn’t for me, my fucking parents and all this fucking drama, would Kimberly and her sisters live in peace?
I hated seeing the pale looks on their faces.
I hate that all three of them have had to train themselves to be fearful of everything, to always be guarded and alert as if the world will explode right in front of their eyes if they relax.
That’s no fucking way to live.
Life is difficult already without being used as a pawn in someone else’s game—worse still, using fucking children.
And it’s all because of me.
I unscrew the cap and take a huge gulp of my trusty friend.
At this point in my life, I’m always in a constant state of buzz or drunk, but it’s been a while since I’ve actually blacked out.
I think tonight, shit, this morning, I’m well on my way to dead town if I keep this up.
This fucking mansion, it holds horrors upon horrors. And now years later, things haven’t changed much.
“You were sold to me.”
Those four fucking words keep replaying in my head like a curse cassette, haunting me, playing in slow motion, making me revisit every-fucking-thing David said today—or yesterday, whatever.
No matter what happens, I won’t let that asshole have his way.
All the overtly loud nuisances about my mother’s guilty actions and seedy deeds—it rings in my head like an alarm.
I know Kimberly thinks my mother took Lolo and Casey.
At this point, I’d believe it too but fuck! My mother would never do that, would she?
My father is a liar, sure, but even now with my whiskey brain, I’m failing to piece together what the fuck his end goal is in blaming everything on my mother.
Is it the company? Yeah, we all know he wants his piece back, but that’s not how the Montreal dynasty works, and he knows it.
He left everything behind.
A day after that, I found Craig dead, his brain blown to bits.
Then everything became mine, as if I was being compensated for the horrors and nightmares that would plague for years to come.
My mother even got a piece of the company.
She’s set for several lifetimes with her stake alone, so what the fuck could she possibly gain by doing all this?
Besides, I’ve seen my mother dotting on those little girls… was that all an act? She is after all, an award-winning actress.
I take another long chug of Jack, clutching the long neck of the bottle to my chest.
I grip my fucking hair in my fist, frustrated beyond belief.
Did my mother know everything that happened to Kimberly? If she did, why did she tell David all that?
Why? Fucking why?
This day rocked me to the fucking core.
Everything that came to light about Kimberly, what she’s been through, then seeing the way she carved her likeness off of Brittney with that knife…
Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on her face as she screamed, stabbing that bitch in the face.
Don’t get me wrong, I stand behind my girl’s actions one hundred bloody percent.
It’s the way she sliced off those cheeks, the artificial nose, forced Brittney to choke on her own blood that has me agitated at three in the fucking morning.
What was that?
Because if it was just ending Brittney’s fucking life, she would have done that in one swift move, but instead, she chose that kind of torture. Why?
There’s a lot to be learned about person by simply observing their choices and Kimberly has always had me a bit baffled.
Does she hate herself? Is that it?
Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Reading about that stopped my heart.
I’m so fucking worried about Kimberly right now, I can’t even breathe.
Her mental well-being is fucking important, not just to her little sisters, but to everyone who loves her.
And she’s been doing life all by herself all these years.
I take another long chug of Jack, trying to soothe the rush of angry blood in my alcohol-laced veins.
I might’ve pretended to be normal last night while I was at that fucking charity dinner with Kimberly, but I could barely keep my shit together.
All I wanted to do was find my mother, demand answers but I know better than to just act out like that.
I have to go about this entire thing in a precise way.
Nothing makes fucking sense about all this shit.
I need to exercise these demons out of me right fucking now.
I peel myself off the damn chair then I silently make my way down to the left wing of the mansion—Craig’s wing.
Punching in a code that I haven’t changed in years, I watch as the door clicks open, granting me access.
I look over my shoulder before I get in, and quickly close the door after me.
This isn’t a place I want anyone to wonder around aimlessly. Especially Kimberly.
I don’t bother with the lights, I’m well accustomed to the darkness of this place.
Taking another healthy gulp of whiskey as I go, I trudge along in the dark, closing in on my target.
I reach the end of the hallway, then pass the room where I found Craig dead in a pool of his own brain bits and blood, I make my way down the stairs that lead to the basement.
The very basement where my father should be, but as I get to the last step, I can see the bloody clothes and sheets abandoned on the floor, the captive that was held there, now gone.
Spider texted me right before Kimberly arrived at the ball that David had escaped somehow.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised though.
I knew the moment my father regained consciousness, he’d find a way to escape and that’s exactly what I wanted.
David is the answer to some of my questions. Not killing him earlier was intentional.
Taking a moment, I look around the dark room, hate strumming in my veins.
This fucking place always gave me the damn creeps, but it has nothing on where I found Kimberly hours ago.
But now, I’m looking at this in a different way.
David and Larry… have they always been working together?
When that piece of shit mentioned that he has some fucking history with my girl, did he mean he came across Kimmy when she was young and at the twisted mercy of her sperm donor, Larry?
If that’s the fucking case, then what the hell happened?
Walking further into the damn room, I go straight for the old cabinet thing at the back.
I remember the way my father would drag Craig in here, then he’d march over to that damn cabinet as I stood frozen at the door, peering in with useless tears streaming down my damn cheeks.
“The stupidity, the foolishness and the devil should be beaten out of children.”
That’s what he used to say as he grabbed a belt or a whip or something to beat my brother or me.
When that happened, mom would run and hide in her room, lock the door with a box of wine bottles that she blazed through as Craig’s cries escalated, echoing throughout the house.
This was when I was four.
Craig was still too young to fight back. Too small, too frightened to understand that our father was a hateful monster.
When I became friends with Astraea and the boys two years later, I did my best to hide the shit that happened in our mansion.
It didn’t take me long to figure the power of a good, timely joke.
Dirty or not, jokes make any awkward or tense situation better.
Laughter makes people forget about what’s happening around them. They stop looking too closely at things that don’t concern them—things they could never understand or fix anyway.
And it works all the fucking time.
All my life, I’ve used humor to deflect and hide my pain.
I mean why not? It’s nobody’s business what I go through after all.
I wasn’t going to let anyone see how fucking weak and pathetic I was or how messed up my family was.
I wasn’t going to be the kid you pity or shake your head at with fake sympathy.
I was going to fucking make everyone want to be me.
I was going to rule the world, make people happy and less miserable than I was.
When Astraea and I got close, I loved that she didn’t ask a million questions.
Actually, none of the boys ever asked. They were just a little bit more observant than I realized.
When Raea came over to my house, I liked that things at home would get a little bit normal.
David wouldn’t be around, and Mom made an effort to be an attentive mother.
Craig, well, he was always on his side of the house.
Sometimes, his best friend, Spider, would come over but then everything changed the first time Lawrence Keegan fucking McLaren came over.
Years later, I still have no idea how my brother and that jerk met or crossed paths.
All I remember of that first day was how shy my confident and outstanding big brother was.
I remember the way he was a little too quiet in that fucker’s presence, a little too timid and reserved when he normally wasn’t.
Lawrence on the other hand, flaunted his stinky personality like the asshole was on a runway.
I hated him immediately.
An hour or so of watching him carefully, the fucker pissed off my brother.
I punched him for it, breaking his damn nose.
David just so happened to walk in on the scene… and he immediately took Lawrence’s side instead of his own flesh and fucking blood.
To this day, I don’t know for the life of me why I gave a damn about what he did.
Why did it fucking hurt when the bastard didn’t pick us?
Why was I waiting for him to stand up for us, show us his unconditional support and be a fucking father?
Why the hell did I expect so much from him just because the man shared the same blood as me?
That day, I lost the little trust I had in the man.
From that day, I no longer saw him as my father and as for Craig, he just told me to let it go.
But how the fuck do I do that when years later that same man is causing all this mayhem and standing in the way of my fucking happiness?
That isn’t the most shocking thing that happened that day though.
It’s the fact that fucking leech, Lawrence had made out with my brother in the bathroom just past the playroom, and he recorded that shit.
After pretending to be a victim of assault, he used that video as leverage and showed it to David while crocodile tears ran down his fucking flushed cheeks.
That shithead lied on my brother and then caused trouble.
When I saw him at that charity thing, I wanted to have another go at him, but this time, I wanted to show him that I’m no longer that angry ten-year-old. I’m much older, much stronger and I haven’t forgotten a single thing.
