“Yeah. The man is useful when need be.”
“Fuck, Hoax.”
“Listen. I don’t know what kind of deal you made, but I’m assuming it’s a big one if you need to take him out, Silas. If this means that much to you, we got your back, man. Don’t for a second think we don’t. Hunter will be on board, too,” he tells me. I nod my head.
“Thanks, Hoax. I just need to think this shit over. There’s so much I don’t know yet, and I need to find out,” I tell him.
“When it comes to your dad if you can’t handle it, let me know. I’ll take care of him if it comes down to him.” I fist-bump Hoax before walking back toward the door. I’m pissed. I’m annoyed, and I have no fucking idea what to do about any of this shit. What if it is my dad? Am I willing to kill him over this shit? Over the Kings? For Angel?
That’s an easy answer. Fuck yeah, I’d kill him for Angel.
Chapter 12
Angel
My mom has talked nonstop about the ceremony since they’ve been back in town. I’m not sure I’m ready for all that shit. I don’t want to be handed off to some random asshole. The thought alone makes my skin crawl.
“Have you met most of the Kings now?” Mom asks me as we sit at the table.
“I met the ones at the party. I assume that was all of them,” I tell her.
“I’m sure it was. Any that you liked?” she asks, trying to sound happy about this.
“What difference does it make? I’m not able to choose, right?”
“You’re right. You aren’t,” my dad interrupts. I pick at my food not really hungry at all. My mind has been reeling since Silas took my journals. I don’t know what he’s read or how far he’s gotten in them, but I’m assuming not far back since he’s still talking to me.
“Then why does it matter?” I ask once more.
“This is the way things are done, Angel. They always have been and always will be,” my dad reminds me as if I didn’t already know.
“I’m well aware of how things are done around here. I was young once, remember?” I snap at him. He throws his fork down, and it skitters across the table when he stands, shoving his chair back.
“Are we back to this?” he roars.
“Yeah, we are! Where the hell were you? Huh? Where the fuck were you when that shit happened?” I scream back at him. I watch his face, his eyes. Because his eyes always tell when he feels something or nothing. Like they do now, there’s nothing. No hint of remorse. No hint of sorrow. Just … nothing.
“You don’t understand everything that had to take place,” he snaps at me. My mom sits there like she’s immune to all of this. From what I remember, she was drugged or drunk. Not that it mattered when your child was involved.
“Then make me understand! Because all I can fucking remember is pain and heartache. That’s it.”
“Angel, let’s calm down,” my mom urges, trying to defuse the situation, but I’m tired. So fucking tired of it being ignored. It’s been six fucking years! Six! And that feeling still lingers inside of me. The pain is still there, the heartache.
“No. I’m so sick of being told to calm down. I want to know why?” I ask softer this time as tears run down my cheeks. No one cares. No one saw it. No one knows, and that’s what kills a piece of me. How did no one know?
“It’s in the past. What’s done is done,” my dad snaps at me. Instead of arguing, knowing I’ll get nowhere with it, I shove away from the table and rush toward the door with tears streaming down my cheeks. I hear my mom call to me, but I ignore her pleas. I don’t need her to try to make it okay. I don’t need her to try to fix me. There is no fixing me.
I’m fucking broken, and no one even realizes just how badly. Not even Tamsyn knows. I walk in a daze down the street, not knowing where I’m going, and I don’t really care. Tears still fall down my cheeks when the sky opens up and starts to pour down on me. I let it. I welcome it.
I keep going and end up in the one place I shouldn’t be. Who the fuck comes to the graveyard for comfort? Me. That’s who. I do because here no one can hurt me. Here, no one can hear my cries. Here, I’m not judged or used.
I walk through the graveyard and look at the headstones. One of them could be mine. Then there wouldn’t be any more pain. There wouldn’t be any sickness inside me. There’d be no regret. Nothing. There would be nothing. And that sounds so good right fucking now. Just … nothing.
I drop down next to a tall headstone with an angel and think how fucking ironic that is. I snort a laugh as I glance around at the ground. Litter is everywhere. Why would someone be so disrespectful and litter here, of all places? It makes me hate people even more than I already do.
I reach for the broken bottle lying at the foot of the angel headstone and pick it up, gazing at it. I press my finger against the edge to test the sharpness of it, and when it pricks my skin, I jerk away.
I’ve thought about calling Tamsyn. I thought about just going to her house, but she has issues she needs to deal with and doesn’t need mine on top of that.