Page 145 of Demise

“No,” I say simply.

“Excuse me?” my father snaps in outrage. “What the fuck do you mean no?”

“I mean, no, I will not be marrying her. Thanks, but no thanks.”

His jaw tenses, hellfire in his eyes as he stares down at me.

“This isn’t a discussion. This is a, ‘I tell you what to do and you shut the fuck up and do it,’ kind of thing.”

I glare at him, shaking my head.

“I’m not a little kid you can force into submission anymore. This is my life.”

“Alison!” my father roars.

Like a dutiful wife, my mother rushes into the office, looking perfectly put together as always, while my father stands. I already know where he’s going with this as he pulls a gun from his hip, putting it up to my mom’s head. I jump to my feet as she squeals, but my father holds a tight grip on her by the front of her throat.

This isn’t the first time he’s played this card before. I don’t love a lot in my life, at least that he knows of, but my mother is one of those things. Anytime I’d test my boundaries, it was always her who would pay for my insubordination. After a while, I stopped pushing back because seeing your mother’s lip split or her kidney bruised because of you…that’s a guilt I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

“Stop,” I grit out.

“I don’t think I will,” he sneers as he speaks to my mother. “Alison, what the fuck have you done to raise such an insolent piece of shit? Can you believe your son doesn’t want to marry the nice girl I picked out for him? He could do far worse, could he not?”

She whimpers, nodding quickly. “Speak!” he shouts. “Convince him, or I’ll splatter your brains all over these goddamn walls.”

“P-please, Liam. Please. She’s a nice girl. A pretty girl. She’ll make you s-so happy,” my mom cries.

“Time to make a decision, son. Be a man and live with the consequences of your actions. Three, two, on—”

“Wait!” I shout, holding up my hands as I hang my head. I stare at the ground, my voice full of defeat. “I’ll marry Maryia; just let mom go.”

He makes a derisive noise from the back of his throat before he jams the butt of the gun into the side of my mom’s head. Shecries out as she falls to the ground, and my father moves to sit behind his desk.

“Both of you get the fuck out,” he snarls. “And take the goddamn ring with you.”

Sighing heavily, I pocket the ring and scoop my mom into my arms. She’s sobbing, her hand covering her head as blood begins to seep between her fingers. I don’t even bother to give my father a second look as I carry my mom out of his office and to her bedroom. Several staff stand by, acting as if they didn’t see or hear anything.

“Get me washcloths and call the doctor, just in case,” I say as I begin climbing the stairs.

My mom clings to me, sobbing into my chest when I lay her down on her bed. A staff member rushes behind me with a white washcloth that I press to the back of her head. Black mascara tears streak her face as she looks up at me.

“Why doesn’t he love me?” she cries.

I shake my head. “He doesn’t love anyone, mom.”

She curls herself up into a ball, sobbing harder than before. I sit with her until the doctor comes before excusing myself in search of my girlfriend. My stomach is heavy, I feel as if I’m going to throw the fuck up everywhere. I’m sure this is how Ronan felt when Skyla found out about him and Annie Williams. After all, how do you tell the love of your life that you’ll be marrying someone else?

I texted Sky that I wanted to take her for a drive. She agreed happily but one look at me and she knew something was up.Still, she got into the car, and I drove her to the spot I first took her to overlooking the city.

When we park, Skyla pops open the door and gets out. I follow her as she climbs onto the hood and looks out at the view. Scooting beside her, I rest my forearms on my knees as we sit in silence.

“You’re getting married, aren’t you?”

I hesitate for a moment before looking at her. Her eyes are glimmering as she gives me a watery smile. All I find myself capable of doing is nodding once. Skyla flattens her mouth and nods as she faces forward once more.

“To Maryia?” she guesses.

“Yeah,” I say, hurt and anguish warring inside of me as I do.

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