Page 92 of Cruel Cravings

I’ve ruined his charade by showing up to the Midnight Games. It’s much more convenient for him to keep me stashed at the psychiatric hospital, where I live in the shadows of the basement, and the world never knows what truly happened to me.

My family has always cared deeply about their reputation in circles like the Midnight Society.

Having a disfigured monster for a son typically doesn’t bode well.

The corridor is too dark to distinguish his features, but I sense the faint smirk that makes its way onto his face. Hear it laced in his otherwise measured tone.

“Still playing guard dog, are you?” he asks. The cool voice slithers through the dark corridor, the cadence deceptively calm.“Or have you finally found the courage to confront the person who did this to you?”

My father steps forward, falling into the dim light from a sconce on the stone wall. The flickering flame highlights his pale complexion, glinting off the glass of his round spectacles.

Even like this, among the shadows and sparse light, he looks exactly as I remember him—tall, severe yet intellectual, meticulously dressed in a patchwork blazer and turtleneck. His ash-brown hair is neatly cut and combed, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the natural malice it carries.

He tilts his head slightly to the side. “It’s been some time since we last spoke. I heard all about how you left the hospital when she did. Haven’t you grown tired of disappointing me?”

I don’t provide him an answer nor take the bait he’s putting out.

I remain where I am, posted outside Jael’s door. It’s where I’ll stay for the rest of the night.

My father takes another slow step closer. The scent of expensive cologne fills the tight-knit space, the familiar smell conjuring instant memories of not only times at the psychiatric hospital, but of before.

When I was a boy still trying to impress my father and follow in his footsteps. He and my mother were certain I would make them proud. I would be like the other boys in our circles, becoming an Archer Hurst, Nolan Ramsey, or Klein Fairchild.

Once the accident happened, those hopes were demolished. I had the audacity to survive.

The fall didn’t kill me—it left me broken instead.

The pain is a constant reminder, the aches and pin pricks sharp and almost unbearable. Few people could stand this level of torment wrecking the body. This level of suffering is what most would consider inhumane.

The damage is permanent and will never truly be repaired.

I would’ve ended it myself a long time ago if not for two things.

Jael and the pain medications my father has always given me.

The one gesture of his that could be considered kind. But whether he’s provided them all these years because he seeks to alleviate my pain or use me for his own devices is unclear. The latter has been what instinct points toward.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have so often used them as leverage over me. A manipulative method of blackmail as he implanted the tracking device behind my ear and kept me hidden in the hospital basement.

He knows the levels of pain I deal with. He knows how it’s kept me obedient all these years.

His lips curve. “Did you not realize I would figure out you’ve removed the tracker? Did you not even think she still has hers? That I would know you two were showing up here? But you never have been very bright.”

Tension thickens through me, beating harder like a pulse. I still give no real reaction, causing his smirk to fade. His features twist into a sharper, colder expression. He takes several more steps closer until only a few inches separate us.

I tower over him, twice his size, yet he’s fearless. Possibly the only man on the planet who isn’t intimidated by my size and strength.

He knows I could never hurt him and uses it to mock me.

“If you were smart, you would return to where you belong. You would take this warning and go running back to the hospital basement and I will do as I’ve always done to care for you—I will provide you the meds you need.” He leans toward me, hands deep in his pants pockets. “No one else would help a freak like you and you know this. You know your life would be agony without me.”

It’s not an empty threat.

It’s a threat he would be more than happy to carry out. He would be willing to let me suffer in debilitating pain if it meant he was finally rid of the son he was ashamed of.

Whatever use I’ve served no longer matters.

I clench my jaw from under my mask, the rage inside me screaming for release. I could lunge at him and wipe the smug satisfaction off his face. I could crush him in the palm of my huge hands and make him experience some of the agony I’ve felt.

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