Page 5 of Beautiful Liar

In the dark, I used the bathroom.

In the dark, I prayed until I didn’t have the voice to pray anymore.

My stomach clenched. My tongue felt like sand. My skin felt itchy all over. Maybe it was the layer of dirt on it. Maybe, it was other things I couldn’t see that crawled and whispered in the dark. I felt them under my skin, inside me. I wanted to scratch until I shredded my skin, but it hurt. Everything hurt.

I don’t know how much time passed when light pressed against my closed lids. I couldn’t even open them.

“Get him up. I told you to keep him alive,” a grumbly voice said.

Rough hands pulled me up. The heavy footsteps up the stairs pounded in my head.

When I opened my eyes, the light hurt them. A woman pressed ice to my lips, gave me water. I drank and threw up and drank some more. She cleaned me up, took away the vomit, fed me. A few days later the voice returned. I recognized the clipped, deep tone.

The man was big, square chin, strong body, and eyes … eyes the color of mine. He cupped my chin, turned my head left and right. “Fuck,” he said. “You look like him.”

Fear kept me from speaking.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kieran Romano.”

He made a disapproving sound like when Roy had to do overtime at work. “Yes, I suppose you are. Do you know who your father is?”

I shook my head. Pain burned my cheek, made my eyes water. It took me a little while to realize he’d slapped me. He took out a gun and placed the barrel against my forehead. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me. Do you know who your father is?”

I shut my eyes. “N-n-o, sir.”

“Then why should I keep you alive?”

I didn’t want to die. I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “I’ll be good. I could be good. I am good. I promise.” I thought he was going to shoot me anyway, but he didn’t. I didn’t feel the gun against my skin anymore.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered.

I did as he said. If I did as he said, that meant I was good, and if I was good, he wouldn’t kill me.

“Kieran, I am your grandfather, and you will call me Grandfather. Is that clear?”

I nodded.

He grunted. “Use words.”

“Yes, sir.” I felt another slap across my other cheek. More tears fell. This time, I tasted blood in my mouth.

“Grandfather.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” I said between sobs.

He called the woman back into the room. “Get him ready for transport. I’m taking him home.”

****

I lifted into consciousness in spurts of memories. The pain of it all readily available to latch on to as I floated to the surface. Not dead.

“Diabetic.”

I heard a woman’s voice. I had no clue where the fuck I was, but I wasn’t dead. Not yet.

“He’s lucky to be alive.”

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