Page 21 of Loathe

“Don’t be nervous or worry about a thing, Princess Girl, I’m right outside and I can be in there in seconds if I need to be. You have to be calm when you go in there, or he’s going to know that something is up,” he said in his smooth velvety voice.

Or at least I needed to make it appear that the only thing I was nervous about was seeing the man I had been running from for years.

I slowed my pace and took a few calming breaths before I knocked on the door that my father sat behind. I opened the door slowly as a gruff voice beckoned me in.

I was a little shocked at what I saw when I stepped inside the room and closed the door behind me. He was sitting up on a bed, so this was his bedroom. At least it was now. I assumed it was a guest bedroom by the size.

He was thin, showing his age with all the wrinkles on his face. Not much muscle on him like there used to be. Though, his face was still hard and the thing of my nightmares.

In his hand was a blunt he was smoking, something I could only guess was allowed, because of his cancer diagnosis. I didn’t feel sorry for him. No amount of pain could pay him back. Only Hell contained enough torture for a man like him.

He coughed as he took in a drag and looked up at me. I tried not to shiver, my heart beating fast.

“Hello, Phoebe, it’s so good to see you after all this time,” he said with a weak and raspy voice. I guess he was sick, though maybe not as much as he made it sound.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” I replied dryly.

“I deserve that. Please, come sit beside the bed, there is much that I want to talk to you about,” he replied as he motioned to a chair that was close to the bed. I stared at it like it was a giant bug. Did he really expect I’d show up and play happy family?

I moved closer to the bed, making sure to keep an eye on him in case he made any sudden movements. I sat rigid in the chair, not letting myself drop my guard an inch.

We stared at each other, neither one of us knowing what to say. I couldn’t help noticing how thin and frail he looked at this angle. I wondered if the rampant alcohol and drug use from his earlier days had finally took its toll.

“I know what you must be thinking, you must be thinking that I’m finally getting what I deserve for the way I treated you. Maybe this is what I deserve, but I wanted you to come here so that I could ask you for forgiveness for the things I’ve done,” he said weakly. “I want to make amends before I leave this world.”

I actually laughed. “Forgiveness? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

A coughing spell wracked his fragile body and he pointed toward the cup on the table beside his bed. I didn’t want to be completely heartless, so I stood and grabbed the cup and gave him a drink of the water that was inside it. It didn’t matter anyway if he was dying. Or a dead man very soon.

I sat the cup back on the table and took my seat once again, waiting for him to answer my question.

“Yes, Phoebe. I’m dying. That’s why I contacted you multiple times and hoped that you would come. I wanted to talk with you and try to make amends for the wrong I’ve done to you. This illness has put things in a harsh perspective. I am an old, weak man about to meet his maker. I’ve also contacted Maxum to come and baptize me, to make sure my sins are forgiven in that aspect as well,” he breathed.

I had to laugh at the fact that he’d called on Maxum. As I laughed, he looked at me with a confused look, and I knew at that moment that he didn’t know about Maxum’s betrayal. “You don’t know, do you?” I asked, still scoffing.

“What don’t I know, Phoebe?” he asked calmly, putting out the blunt in a tray next to him and setting his hands clasped in his lap.

“Your precious Maxum is anything but holy and is best friends with the Devil himself, since he pulled a Judas and betrayed those closest to him.” Anger filled me. Maxum was worse than my “father.” At least he never pretended to be good, but Maxum had claimed to be a man of God saving people for many years before he murdered so many.

I started to remember why I was there, and I could hear Cameron in my ear reacting to some of the things that were being said. I knew he was there still and that gave me the strength to do what I knew needed to be done.

“You said you want to be forgiven for all the wrongs you’ve done to me all my life, but do you really mean that? Do you really understand how you made me feel?” I asked, stopping to take a breath and reign in my emotions.

He didn’t respond, so I took that as my answer. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t know how you made me feel since I ran and never looked back. Well, let me tell you how you made me feel, you sick, sadistic son of a cock sucking bitch. I have hated myself for a long fucking time. I never thought I was worth being loved, because of the things you did to me and told me. I’ve hated you for being such an arrogant piece of shit and getting my mother killed as a punishment for going against what you were supposed to do that day. I’ve spent most of my life looking over my shoulder afraid that you were going to find me, and I was going to have suffer more at your hand.”

I waited to see what he would say, but other than an attentiveness I’d never known him to have before, there was no reaction. Fine. I could play a game too. I could pretend I hadn’t cried all my tears before I came. If I still seemed like the weak woman he’d pushed around and sold, then he wouldn’t suspect what came next.

“I’ve done things that no one should have to do to stay safe and somewhat happy. I’ve done things that no person should ever have to do, because of you. But now I’ve found a man to sincerely love me for who I am, not for what I have to offer him. He loves me for who I am inside, not because my pussy can make him money. For so many years, I’ve felt unworthy of anything, becauseyoutold me I was. You made me hate myself to the point I wanted to die. You are a monster, and I would like to think that if my mother were alive, she’d hate you for all that you’ve done to me too.” I started to sob.

I should’ve been getting a goddamn award for this.

“I know I’ve done so much to hurt you and others, and for that I am remorseful. I hope that you will extend to me the forgiveness I am looking for.” My father reached his hand out in my direction.

So, he might really mean it, if only out of fear of death. Well, I could move on and make my life better now, but I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

My adrenaline was pumping so hard that it sounded like my heart was about to pound out of my ears. My hands shook as I reached out to him with one hand, but pulled a gun with the other. It had been my mother’s. I had taken it with me when I ran away from him all those years ago. I smiled as the realization hit him of what I was holding and who it had belonged to.

It seemed fitting in that moment.

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