Page 8 of Four Times Forever

"The same way you're defending Ryan." Mom fired back.

"It's not the same thing. Ryan is just going through something." I waved her concerns away. "He's never done anything remotely close to all the shit Terry has done! Damn it, mom. You might not give a shit about what he did to me. But look at what he did to you. Ryan isn't like that." My anger poured out of me, hot and strangled. I shouldn't have been arguing with her.

"Are you sure about that?" My mother taunted.

"Yes. I'm pretty damn sure. Not all men are as fucked up as Terry Thornbread. And I'm sorry you can't see that these are good men whose lives you want to ruin." I should have stopped.

While I was ripping Ryan a new asshole, I should have remembered to do the same for myself.

"Ha! So you think you're better than me? Is that what this is? In your fancy house with your fancy men." She scowled at the breathtaking beauty surrounding us. This guesthouse could be all hers if she'd just let go of this ridiculous notion about my men.

"You're unbelievable." I massaged my temples and eyed the door. It was best to leave her with the nurse. I couldn't be responsible for her recovery. This was all too personal for me.

"You're blind if you can't see it, you know. It's as clear as day that he has a temper and we know that Terry had a way of getting on people's bad sides. I'm not saying the man was a saint. But at least I knew him. You're living in a make-believe fantasy world. I pity you," she said to my back. "If you want to disrespect your father's life and stay here with his murderers, be my guest. But I won't. I'm leaving."

I took a deep breath. The door was right there. My escape was a couple steps away.

Oh, fuck. What was I doing?

"Do you hear yourself, woman?" I spun around and tapped my head. "Disrespect his life? He kidnapped me! Tormented both our lives for as long as I've been alive. That's almost thirty fucking years. I don't know why you'd want to go back to that hellish house marked with the memory of him. I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad Terry Thornbread no longer walks this earth."

Fuck. Shit. Damn it. I said all of that without a drink, as opposed to Ryan.

Before I could say anything more, I spun on my heels and marched out the door.

Chapter 6

Lily

It had been a while since I'd heard her voice in my head.

Pfft. It had been a while since I heard her voice at all.

I thought I'd missed it. In its absence, I was able to create an organized chaos in my head that worked for me. That made me believe I was stronger than I am.

But I'd wandered into one of the empty rooms and slammed the door, needing a moment of silence as my intrusive thoughts illustrated a moving picture of me bashing my head against one of these freshly painted pastel walls and watching my blood turn it into an ugly, stained crimson.

What was I expecting? That she'd wrap me in her arms after coming out of her catatonic prison and thank me for all I did to help her, that she'd be happy to meet my men, or at the very least, that she'd match my fury at Terry Thornbread after she heard what he did to me? She didn't protect me from him all the way back then; what possessed me to think that she might protect me now, even in his death?

I'd let myself become so consumed with hate for my sperm donor that I forgot to focus on the reason she kept him around. I chalked it up to fear for her life and mine, but I conveniently forgot the part where she still wanted him around, despite everything. She chose to stay with him, chose him over me, us, the life we could have had, if she had the balls to leave. But, no, as long as she could escape the pain through drugs and fashion a reality out of her delusion, she was set.

I picked up yet another expensive vase and wished desperately that it was cheap. The weight of it felt so nice, I just knew it would create beautiful music when shattered into sharp ceramic pieces. Fuck. I'd struggled with his anger infecting my blood for as long as I could remember, and it was bubbling within me so hot that I craved numbing, the need to also find my escape in drugs. I hated that I was so much like them, that I was forever soiled by their genes. I'd tried to be different, I had.

But I was just so mad. And hurt. And disappointed.

Why couldn't I just drown her voice out?

If you think I'm kidding about how bad it is, I'll show you just how deep her words needle into my skin and bones, my fucking molecules.

This is how bad it is.

Her statement about my men was utterly ridiculous, yet her mocking voice was on repeat in my head, harassing me to believe her, to doubt my men, to question everything I'd ever known and replace my own beliefs with hers.

Lucky for me, the door creaked open and an unexpected sigh rushed from me. Silence and isolation were overrated. As long as it wasn't my mother...I turned around and another wave of relaxation crashed through me. It was just Matt.

"What ya got there?" He gestured to the vase I forgot I was still holding.

"Oh." I gasped at myself before putting it back gently, even though it was mine as well. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I'd flushed thousands of dollars down the drain.

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