by C. Hallman
“Huh? Tell me, Lorenzo, because right now, there isn’t much more that can fucking go wrong. I’m homeless, parentless, and I don’t have a fucking dime to my name. Every fucking thing has been ripped from me. And the person responsible is sitting next to me being happy about all of my misery!” Every word I say flows from my lips with ease as if they have been sitting at the entrance for some time waiting to be unleashed.
Turning his face to mine, he looks at me and then back to the road before speaking.
“I’m sorry all this misfortune has happened to you, Amara.” He almost sounds sincere… almost. He isn’t sorry, and he doesn’t care. He’s proven it over and over again.
“Right.” I turn my body and mind away from him. The trees and open fields will be better company to me than the manipulating monster sitting beside me.
As the miles pass and the silence consumes us, my mind keeps drifting back to my father. I close my eyes just for a moment to relive his smile and simple touch. The way he pushed me on a swing when I was little, the times he took me to the fair, and we had ice cream on Sundays… So many happy memories snuffed out by the vile monster sitting next to me.
My father might have killed Lorenzo’s mother, and even if I didn’t agree with it, I knew there had to be a reason. Unlike Lorenzo, I knew it wouldn’t be something good. If my father worked for the FBI, there had to be a reason. It was hard enough to imagine him as someone who killed others.
Minutes pass; just as my exhausted mind begins to shut down, and my eyes close, we pull onto another road, and minutes later, into a driveway. The house is a simple cookie-cutter style looking similar to everyone else’s on the block. It definitely isn’t mafia style. Refusing to look at Lorenzo, I undo my seatbelt, open the door, and hop out. There were no other cars in the driveway, and I already hate the thought of being alone in a house with him.
Lorenzo stands in front of the car, waiting for me. The look on his face tells me he is over dealing with me. Which is fine—I’m certainly over dealing with him.
“No need to babysit me, asshole,” I say under my breath as I walk past him, completely ignoring his extended hand. The last thing I want from him is affection. I hear his intake of deep breath and his heavy steps behind my own.
My tired foot touches the top step leading up to the front door, and I reach for the handle, but the door swings open on its own before I make contact.
“Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been looking for you.” Jared’s voice meets my ears, and I look up to his face.
Instead of saying something bitchy, I simply keep my mouth shut as I walk past him and into what I assume is his house. It smells like a man and looks, well… like a bachelor pad. The walls are painted a deep gray, leather couches and a huge flat screen with various electronics in front of it. As I round the corner, coming to stand in the living room, I take in the kitchen. It’s simple but sleek.
“I think you should sit down, Amara,” Enzo says behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder heavily. I immediately pull back as if his touch is searing my skin like a hot iron.
“I think you should never touch me again,” I growl, taking a step away to put more distance between us. In his eyes, a fiery rage stirs like a volcano ready to blow. “You lost the right to touch me, and don’t think you will ever earn it back.”
His hands once brought me immense pleasure, but with it came pain. Dark, stab yourself in the heart, pain. Such deep and angry pain, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to come back from it. I saved myself today, not with an ounce of help from this man—he killed my father, yet he still feels he has the right to touch me? Protect me?
“Amara…” I turn my attention to Jared, the concern etched into his features is obvious. His dark hair is a mess, and his eyes look haunted as if he’s about to tell me something I won’t like. I guess there isn’t any better time than now.
“Tell me. Someone needs to tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demand. Both Enzo and Jared look at each other with matching worried expressions.
“I think we should—” Jared starts.
“I think you should tell me. Right fucking now.” My eyes narrow at the two of them. Keeping secrets in the situation we are in isn’t helping.
Enzo’s large hand curls into his hair as he goes around the couch to sit down.
Taking a deep breath, Jared exhales. “John wasn’t your father.”
The words hit me like a brick wall, my mind spiraling out of control.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“Funny, ’cause I remember very clearly John being there my entire life, reading me bedtime stories, teaching me how to ride a bike, and taking me to the father-daughter dance. I don’t remember a different dad being there. So don’t insult the memory of my father with your fucking lies. Thanks to Enzo, he’s nothing but a dead body on my childhood home’s wood floor.”
Jared cringes at the words.
“No, I mean John wasn’t your biological father.”
“You’re lying,” I cry out, not wanting to hear anything else he has to say.
Jared shakes his head, dark locks falling onto his forehead. “I was trying to find you and when I was digging for some info—”
“Stop!” I back away further until my back is against a wall.
“I went to my father and asked if he could help—”
“Just stop. Make it stop,” I scream, my throat aching. I can’t handle it anymore. My fingers grip at my scalp to bring something else to life. To make me feel something other than the pain of betrayal and death.
“Amara, John lied. He wasn’t your father.”
“I don’t fucking care… I don’t care! He was the man who raised me. He was my father in any way that counts. Even if you are telling the truth, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you get that?” I yell, feeling my body losing the last bit of energy as I slump to the floor.
“Let me take care of her and get her cleaned up. Then you can talk to her,” I hear Enzo say. I’m over everything. I want to turn it all off. I want the hate, anger, and sadness to go away.
Looking up at him with tears clinging to my lashes, I see Jared nod. I get the feeling that there is more he wants to tell me, but I just don’t have the energy to listen.
Enzo walks over, bends down, and scoops me up in his arms. I don’t want to be held or touched by the man who has caused me so much heartache, but I don’t think I can manage to walk—hell, even stand.
He carries me down the hall to the right and then into a bedroom. Sitting me on the bed, he turns around and closes the door. The silence eats away at everything that made us who we are.
Pulling at my dirty clothes, I rip them off, not caring if he watches me. I don’t want to be covered in dirt any longer. I don’t want to be reminded of this day ever again.
Once in my bra and panties, I cross the room to what I assume is the bathroom.
“You can’t run from this.” He sounds as if he has a fire in his voice. He has no reason to be angry.
“I can and will do whatever the fuck I want, Mr. King. You’re nothing to me. You lost me the moment you betrayed me.” Once in the bathroom, I slam the door and lock it. I don’t want to see his face. I want nothing to do with him. My heart aches with every beat as if it is going to burst from an overflow of heartache.
I pull away from the door just as the pounding starts. I know if he truly wants to be in this room, he could get in.
“Leave. Go away. I hate you,” I scream, placing my hands over my ears to rid myself of the noise.
“Amara, stop being childish.” I can hear the terror in his voice. He thought he was losing me. Good. He needs to. He needs to know I am out of his grasp.
“Childish? Childish? First, you hold a gun to my head because your asshole employee lies. That was the first time you betrayed me. Then, you don’t come for me for weeks. Weeks! Then you put a gun to my head AGAIN, threaten to kill me, cut me with your
knife, and kill my father in front of me. And now you have the audacity to call my behavior childish?” I scream, standing to turn the shower on. I allow the water to run, making the bathroom fill with steam.
“You are delusional, and I don’t know why I’m here. You already took everything from me. I’d rather be dead than here with you, and don’t think that I won’t do everything I can to kill you the first chance I get.”
“I’ll leave you alone for now, but later, we need to talk.” He sounds so full of himself. He doesn’t know me—not like I thought anyway. Ignoring him, I slip into the hot steam and arch into the water—God, how long has it been since I had a decent wipe down... since I had actually been clean?
Though the hot water is pouring down over me, my tears still stain my cheeks. John wasn’t my father… I sink to the bottom of the tub, my heart and mind aching as I place my hand on my chest. I can feel the chain beneath my fingertips, and the weight of the heart dangling against my chest.
It has become heavy as if it is carrying the weight of my sorrows. I can feel every muscle in my body tense up as I wrap my fist around the heart on the chain. What happened? Everything I once knew has changed. A sob escapes my tightly closed lips as I pull on the heart, yanking the necklace from my neck. I hold it tightly in my hand as I process all my emotions. I need to let go, but how can I? I have so many questions and no answers.
Before I realize what I’m doing, the sound of the metal clanking against the shower’s glass door echoes through me as I slip back into the dark abyss of my mind. To a memory, time, a place, where John was my father… where he was alive.
“Amara,” Dad yelled to me from the bottom of the stairs. Mom was sick again, and this time it had been a long time since she had her normal break. She would go through times when she was really sick, and then times when she was okay.
“Coming…” I called out. Pulling on a sweatshirt, I shuffled around the corner and down the stairs. My eyes automatically landed on my mother. Her frail body was lying on the couch, and though she was smiling, I could see this time around the treatments had been hard.
“Amara,” she called out for me, her voice hoarse as if she needed a glass of water. Dad came to stand next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder with a warm smile.
“She’ll be okay, Amara,” he reassured me, even though we both knew reassuring would only get us so far.
“Mom…” I said breathlessly, anxiety filled my belly sloshing around with every step I took toward her.
“Hi, sweetie. How are you? How is school?” she asked all motherly, completely ignoring the big huge elephant in the room.
“Uh….” I looked back at Dad, who gave me a reassuring smile. I wasn’t sure if I should even talk to Mom about anything. One thing could cause her stress, and the excess stress would only make her cancer worse.
Her warm hand landed on mine as I took a seat against her body. Pushing the tears to the back of my mind, I tried my hardest to see her as I saw her when I was five. Happy, healthy, and vibrant with life.
“Tell me…” she said softly, her eyes smiling.
“Well, school is good, excellent even. My grades are good, and I was asked to the dance.” I went on and told her the good things she had missed out on because she was in the hospital.
“That is so good, I’m excited. Has Dad taken you dress shopping yet?” I shook my head. The idea of going to the dance was actually the furthest thing from my mind.
“No, but I will…” Dad broke in, smiling, bringing the happiness back into the air.
“Good. Make sure she gets something sparkly… and pink… It fits her…” she mumbled, her eyes glazing over. The meds must be kicking in.
“Don’t worry about her, Amara. You know how she gets once the meds start working.” Dad smiled, the warmth of it alone radiated to me as I gently lay her hand beside her and stood from my seat.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I asked, looking at her and then back to him. The way Mom had been acting lately made it seem like she wouldn’t make it. Though, I never would say it out loud.
“Amara…” Dad came to stand next to me, his hand landing on my shoulder as he turned me in toward his chest. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him.
“I will always be here for you. I will always care for you, and I will always provide you with the things you need and want. You will always be Daddy’s little girl.”
I smiled against his chest as I hugged him a little tighter.
“Turn around. I have something for you,” he said softly as I turned around while he reached into his pocket.
Forcing myself to stay put, I waited as he placed a small pendant against my chest. It was a gold-plated heart with little words scribbled across it.
“What does it say, Daddy?” I asked with excitement and curiosity in my voice.
“It says, ‘You can always count on me.’ Things are going to get bad with Mom, but I want you to always remember that no matter how bad they get, you can always count on me. Always.” His voice cracked as he turned me back around. This time it was him pulling me into an embrace.
“Always, Amara… always.”
I allowed his words to soothe me as I took every single one of them in—and they did.
I pull myself from the memories, no longer able to digest what happened. If John was really so bad, then why did he act like he cared? All those years, he pretended to be something he wasn’t. Why?
Picking up the soap, I vigorously scrub my body, trying to rid myself of the emotions swirling within me. I want every memory of who he was scrubbed from my mind. I want Enzo gone. I want the pain to go away. It completely consumes me. I should’ve known it was all too good to be true.
My hand hovers over the door handle as I prepare myself for what I’m going to find on the other side of the bathroom door. I don’t want Enzo to be there, but I’m almost certain he will be. To make matters worse, I have no clothes. The only thing covering me is the large fluffy towel wrapped around my body.
Taking one more calming breath, I grab onto the brass knob and turn it. Exhaling, I push the door open. My eyes fall onto the man sitting on the edge of the bed. Surprisingly, that man is not Enzo.
“Jared?”
He stands up, his eyes locking with mine as he takes a tiny step toward me.
“Please hear me out. I know you’ve been through a lot, but I have to tell you something, and I’m scared that I won’t get the chance if I don’t tell you right now.”
“Why wouldn’t you get a chance?”
“Because I know you’re going to try to get away the first chance you get.” The side of his mouth tucks upward slightly. Yeah, he has a point.
“Fine. Tell me. What’s so important that it can’t wait?”
“I had to dig deep when trying to find you. I even went to my dad, which I don’t normally do for the simple fact that he normally doesn’t help me… but he did this time. Because as it turns out, you and I are more connected to everything than we realized.”
“Meaning?”
“My father agreed to help find you because you are his biological daughter.”
My face deadpans. Did he just say we are siblings? I let his words sink in for a moment, ignoring the fact that I’m standing half-naked in a room with a man who is possibly my brother.
“No.” I shake my head, finally finding my voice.
“I swear to you, I had no idea about any of this before. I had no idea I had a half-sister. My father never mentioned you before.”
“You’re making this shit up.” I’m still shaking my head profusely, my wet hair flying into my face.
“Why would I make this up?”
“I don’t know why half this shit is happening. Two months ago, I was a college student at North Woods University with a farmer as a father. None of this makes sense.” I throw my hands up in the air dramatically before wrapping them securely around myself again.
“I get it… I just had to tell you,” he lowers hi
s head like a sad puppy dog, “I brought you food too, and I convinced Enzo to give you some space. Please just get some rest, and don’t try to leave. I promise, I’ll make sure you are protected in this house.”
With that, he turns his back to me and leaves the room, leaving me utterly confused.
I’ve never noticed it before, but I could see the resemblance. Our noses were the same, our eyes held the same warm brown, and his lips were shaped the same as mine. Even though the proof is right in front of me, there is absolutely no way I will simply believe it. I can’t trust Jared.
I can’t trust anyone anymore.
6
Mack
“They killed John,” Miller says as I push the slut off my body. Fuck. This is both bad and good news. It means one last person to deal with when this is all over, but it also means my guy at the FBI is gone. Will those assholes honor the deal without him? They fucking better.
“Anything else?” I ask, slicking my hair back. I can almost feel it, there is more bad news, something he isn’t telling me. Miller looks nervously around the room before meeting my gaze.
“Well, tell me, boy.”
“Eli and Amara got into a scuffle, and she ended up running.”
“Running?” I growl, moving from the bed. Gripping him by the shoulders.
“Yes, sir.”
Fuck. Eli and Miller were the two I had at the hole. They dealt with the little bitch so I wouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t have relied on these fucking people to do anything.
“When? How long has she been gone?”
“Yesterday–”
“Yesterday? And no one thought it was a good idea to tell me until now?” I growl. Releasing him, I turn around, scanning the room for my jeans. Picking them up off the floor, I pull them on and walk out of the room, leaving Miller to hurry behind me.
“You said you didn’t want to be disturbed. We already moved everything. The body is gone, and we filled the hole up. There is no evidence left...” Miller keeps babbling.
