Page 13 of When Day Breaks

I've been selfish.Veryfucking selfish. But the realization comes far too late.

"What the hell were you two up to?" I look over to my sister, her face now displaying the thoughts and feelings she's strongly trying to avoid; a look of utter devastation on her face.

Troian has always been the type of girl to hide her emotions, the ones that make her seem vulnerable anyway. She doesn't like when people can read her or when she's in a position to be taken advantage of. I taught her that; I taught her to keep her true feelings hidden just enough to make the whole world question who it is they're dealing with. But now I wonder if it did her any good or if I've twisted her to be someone I needed to be.

It reminds me of how Lucynda has been with me since the moment I met her. A defense mechanism I believe. But she never quite mastered the skill of hiding vulnerability the way my sister had. Which allowed me to play on her emotions and attempt to feed a false narrative to her, making her believe she desired one thing more than the other. Now look at where we are.

"Wewere not up to anything, Troian," I tell her truthfully. Lucynda and I have never schemed together. Though I won't lie, I would have preferred that. That was my plan after all, was it not? To get Lucynda to be on the same page as me—feeling tormented by the pain her mother caused her, needing her to believe that her life's trajectory was a result of the day her mother left her—all so that she and I could feel absolution in the suffering of her mothertogether. But my failed attempt at manipulating my sweetest sin was never going to go the way I wanted it to because I let my own feelings get in the way.

I tried to play the role I was given—a villain who only does what benefits himself—but with her I wanted to feel the pull of her soul to mine. I yearned for her body to be close to mine and I craved to twist my fingers in her hair. I wanted to hear her soft moans and watch the bat of her eyelashes as she tried to hide herself from me. I wanted her. But I was too stubborn and dead set on ignoring my needs to fulfill my wants because I knew in the end, she'd do the same to me that everyone else has. She'd leave, and Lucynda leaving me . . . that would break me, and I was not in position to be broken again.

But as I look down at my wife, the mess she's made surrounding her, the sound of disappointment gripping my sister's tone, and the other problems I have to face when I leave these bloodied walls, it doesn't take long for me to recognize that I was the foolish one.

If I'd never met Lucynda, everything would have gone according to plan, and I'd likely be dead . . . for good. But as it is, I did meet her. It was inevitable. I was thrown into a war brewing in my head, indecisive about what I needed and what I wanted. I thought one was the other, that Ineededmy absolution and only merelywantedher. But I was wrong about that too. I just forced myself to believe that I didn't deserve the luxury of having someone who had the power to destroy me, that I was weak forwanting to have her as anything other than a means to an end. My failure was not heeding the advice that those who have the power to ruin you, to rip your heart out and destroy you, are the ones you should fight to keep around.

I shake my head of the thoughts, knowing that nothing will come of me dwelling on the situation at hand. Time is undoubtedly of the essence, and I need to figure out how I am going to resolve this.

I look over at Troian, an understanding filling her eyes as she allows me to have my moment of mental restitute.

She deserves answers, real and truthful answers.

But once again, I'm selfish. And even despite my epiphany, I can't force myself to give that information up just yet, not until I know I can be forgiven—if that's what I even want—and even then, I need to make sure this is fixable before I send my sister on a path of destruction of her own. Not that I think my sister is capable of anything I have ever done, or what Lucynda has done for that matter. But then again, betrayal can play a funny part in one's brain, switching courses at the drop of a dime.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you-"

"Don't lie to me. You've already lied to me once." I hear the pain in her voice, the hurt is written all over her face. It irritates me.

She closes her eyes, still trying to evade the pain that I know she wants to let herself feel. But she's just as stubborn as me, if not more and she doesn't let anything dictate sadness in her heart. "I won't let you tell me any more lies, Rivian. Please, I need the truth." She crosses her arms over her chest and waits on me, waits for me to give her what she deserves.

"I don't recall the lie you claim I've told. Enlighten me." I'm an asshole, but I can't help it. I've been carved into the shell of someone who is simply designed to work in circles that onlybenefit themselves. But I move that way because it protects everyone else. They have to see that.

"You're eighteenth birthday." Troian looks me dead in my eyes, obviously annoyed that I won't answer her question, but I can tell that she never expected me too. Another pang of disappointment rattles me, a feeling that I know I will start to feel more of.

She takes a deep sigh and does her best to mimic a voice that is supposed to resemble my own. "I am the only one who loves you. I will always protect you and keep you safe.”

"That was not a lie," I tell her now feeling anger at her for ever assuming that I would make promises I cannot keep . . . intentionally anyway.

"Then what the fuck do you call all this?" She waves her hands around us and I don't even flinch at the scene. I know what lies around us. Death. Destruction.

"This isn’t a reflection of intentional harm to you. This was a mistake. I had no clue she'd go off the rails like this." I try to maintain composure, control. But another thing about my sister is that she is not easily manipulated or fooled. She is like a vacuum for bullshit, and she can see right through me.

"Another lie," she says.

"Elaborate," I walk over to the bar top where I spot a somewhat clean cloth, picking it up to wipe the blood I know is staining my mouth. I can stilltastemy wife on my tongue.

"I think you wanted her like this. I think you like her this way. I think you sought out to make her feel the pain you've felt, the pain you hide from everyone else in your life. You wanted to make her hate you as much asyouhate you. You wanted to make her mad at the world just like you are so that whatever you were doing behind all of our backs wouldn't make you feel stupid, because let me tell you Rivian, this is all so fucked up and stupid." She pegs me with a deep, burning need for truth inher eyes and I have to try my best not to applaud her; she really is fucking smart. Clearly, I’m more transparent than I believed. "And don’t you dare try to say that you don’t like her like this, otherwise you wouldn't have fucked her . . .like this."

My face heats. Not out of irritation. Out of lust. I don't want her to know that I did in fact enjoy taking Lucynda in the midst of her going off the rails. It was thrilling. Fulfilling. It made me feel seen because for so long, I've been hiding in the layers of what I really am . . . cruel and vilified. Born in blood.

But she’s right. This is fucked up and I know it was only a sliver of fantasy that I allowed myself to have because it was once again . . . control. But I’m going to have to let go of the idea that I will remain in control if I want any chance in tending to the ruination of this kingdom.

"I did not ask for this nor did I plan forthisto happen." I’m careful with my words so as not to purposefully lie to her.

"Then whatdidyou plan for? Because you are not entirely innocent in all of this. And what about Travois, huh? In case you forgot, he's still trapped in a cage, probably starving and bleeding dry while you play bloodbath with your obviously deranged wife."

"Like you care. Don't you have a boy toy to justify killing? That's what you do for fun right?" I point a judgmental look at her as I let the words fall from my mouth.

"Rivian, enough!” she demands, raising her voice as she scolds me. “This is not who we are. Ever since dad died and you brought Lucynda around, you haven't been yourself. You-"

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