Page 49 of Psycho Killers

I can hear my pulse in my ears, and the room spins just as Killian grabs me, knowing I'm about to go completely manic. He smiles, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to try and relax my anxiety and bring me back to the moment as the man with the silver hair walks over and stands beside my mother, a cunning grin spread across his lips.

“Cali, come back to me, Little Psycho. You've got this,” Killian says softly, but I can see the fire in his eyes directed at my parents as he whirls around to face them. “You’re not going to fucking treat her this way.”

Whatever semblance of control my parents had seems to disintegrate in the face of Killian’s fury. My mother takes a step back, instinctively shielded by my father and hers, but that’s not enough to erase the years of corruption, abuse, lies, guilt, and resentment wieaning down on them now.

“Maybe it’s time for you motherfuckers to realize how your shitty actions have dire consequences,” I say out of the blue, finding my voice and feeling empowered by Killian’s support. “You’ve made your damn choices, and now I’m fucking making mine.”

The onslaught of emotions surges within me as I stand my ground, feeling the gravity of this moment, rallying within me the years of pain I’d tucked away for far too fucking long. I’ve reached the moment of truth—my breaking point—and for the first time, I know I’m ready to face whatever comes next—no longer just a girl with a chain wrapped around my ankle running from shadows, but a woman prepared to take her fucking life back to forge her own path.

Outside, the wind howls, inviting me to embrace my newfound freedom. Together, I know Killian, Dominic, Ash, Five, and I will face the darkness and carve out the existence we deserve. And it's going to be fucking beautiful.

The air crackles with tension, every heartbeat echoing the weight of years we’ve suffered in silence. The world outside feels like a distant memory, a reckless abandon of freedom that I can almost taste, but the suffocating grip of my past holds me here for now. The bitter blend of hostility and betrayal thickens in the air as my grandfather, the very man whose face I loathe, steps closer, his sharp gaze boring into me with twisted familiarity.

“Is this how you greet family, Calista?” He taunts, his voice slick with condescension. “After all those years, I expected a warmer welcome.”

I let out a huff of disbelief, astonished at his audacity. “Family? You are not my family. You’re nothing but another fucking monster in a suit, and I’m done pretending to be scared of you.”

The room is on fire with the forever festering rage boiling inside me, and I can feel Killian beside me, solid and unwavering, a fortress against the flood that threatens to consume us. His presence is a reminder that I’m no longer that small, broken girl chained in the attic, shrinking away in terror. I’m not backing down this time.

“Calista,” my mother interjects, desperation creeping into her tone. “You don’t understand what you’re playing with. You can’t?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, bringing my knife into view so they can see it, cutting through her poor attempts at manipulation. “You don’t get to fucking pretend to care about me after everything you’ve put me through. That shit ends tonight. You will address me as an adult, not your scared little girl.”

My words hang heavily between us, an ultimatum cracking open the hardened surface of years of denial and deceit. My father, who’s been silent until now, clenches his fists, the knuckles turning white against the fabric of his slacks. I can see his temper brewing—something I've rarely seen—another spark igniting the fury within him, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing fear.

“Enough!” He barks, his voice echoing off the walls as he steps forward, attempting to regain control of the situation, but I stand my ground. I can feel Killian’s hand tightening around mine, a reminder of my resolve.

“Don’t fucking speak to her like that,” Killian says, low and menacing, pulling his gun from the back of his waistband and stepping in front of me, a protective barrier of masculine energy that dares my parents to challenge us. “You’ve fuckingdegraded her long enough, and now it’s time to face the fucking consequences. You think you just get to walk away from this? That you can run your family like a prison and treat her like a piece of trash? You heard what happened to our fathers—how we fucking butchered them for the shit that you motherfuckers started?”

My grandfather’s laughter is chilling. “You think you can frighten us with threats from a fucking street rat?” he sneers, his eyes narrowing. “You have no idea who you’re fucking dealing with. You don’t know the strength of my influence or the fucking power I hold. You leave here tonight, and I’ll see to it that everything you care about is fucking taken from you.”

"Joke's on you, old man. I care about nothing except for Calista, and I fucking dare you to try and take her away from me," Killian bites, venom lacing his devious laughter.

"I never back down from a dare, son."

I recoil at his words, but the anger isn’t for him. It’s for the fear he still manages to evoke in me, the ghost of a childhood where every threat became a reality. But Killian’s grip anchors my body, grounding me. I pull in a sharp breath, raising my chin defiantly.

“You think this is a game?” I say, my voice steady and clear. “You’re wrong. I refuse to live in this shadow any longer. I’m taking my life back and taking it out of your hands.”

I glance momentarily at Killian, who twitches at my side, pride swelling in his eyes as he watches me reclaim my voice. My grandfather tries to regain the upper hand, but this time, he falters. It’s a flicker of hesitation, and I seize on it, driving the point home.

“Everyone you’ve tried to control—everyone who stood by your side—is gone or breaking because of you. You can’t control me anymore. I’m not afraid of you—I'm not afraid of any of you.”

The truth falls heavy—soaring into the cracks of our suffocating family dynamic, shaking the very foundation we built as a façade of normalcy. I can see my father struggling against the tide of realization, ensnared in a web of anger and regret. It’s haunting, yet liberating, to witness him come apart.

“I’m done with your manipulation,” I continue, every word cutting deeper. “You’ve hurt enough people, and it’s time we stop pretending everything is fine between us. In fact, we should have never pretended because shit was never fucking fine to begin with.”

My grandfather’s face twists into a snarl, but beneath the fury is a glimmer of doubt, a crack in his carefully repaired armor. It emboldens me, fueling my fire, and I step closer, the air electric between us.

“To take from someone is to believe you own them,” I say through gritted teeth. “But here’s the fucking truth for you: you can never fucking own me. I’m not yours to wield or manipulate, and just because you wanted a puppet doesn’t mean I’ll play the fucking role.”

With that, I take another step forward, enough to make my presence unmistakably firm in the lineup of generations past. “Today is the day this ceases, and the cutting ends. Whether you want it or not, I’m drawing the fucking line. You will respect me and the decisions I make until all three of you breathe your last breath."

Killian’s grip remains tight around my hand as the air thickens with tension, and I swear I can hear the creaking of the walls as if the house itself is eager to break away from our toxic history. It feels exhilarating, cleansing even. The catharsis blooms in my chest with the knowledge that I’m finally breaking free.

The silence is suffocating as my parents exchange expressions of disbelief. I can see their disbelief morphing into dread as if they’re beginning to comprehend what I’m doing.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Killian growls, standing taller beside me, his protective presence unprecedented and fierce. “You don’t get to undermine her any longer—none of you.”

---