Page 35 of Most Of All

This motherfucker starts laughing at me again. What the fuck? “You're the murderer, Jack. Who gave you the impression she’s dead? You truly are a stupid boy, aren’t you? Who told you I killed her?” He snaps back at me. The weight of his words swirls chaotically inside me as I struggle to answer.

“Mmm…Who was it, Jack, who told you?” He interrupts my thoughts, still yelling.

“My mother, before she died,” I answer hesitantly.

“There is your answer. And why did she do it? Because she didn’t care.”

Donovan steps forward as if he is going to say something, but he pauses, shaking his head, clearly thinking better of it.

“No, no, no.” I say. I know he’s only saying these things to get in my head. Yet I’m powerless to stop it. “You're lying, everything you just said was a lie.”

Slowly, I take a step back and the room spins as I grasp my head in my hands, my fingers digging into my temples. It's as if everything he’s said is twisting together, forming a tangled web of deceit that I can't begin to see through. Each lie cuts deeper, reopening old wounds.

“So, you held that girl's life over my head for all these years, not telling me my mother was not her mother?” Donavan cuts in angrily.

“Ah! That was way too easy, you were so gullible. The day I brought her back you were all over her like a rash, so I went with that. I knew one day you would find out. I thought it would have happened a lot sooner than this though.” Grey replies, with a smug grin as he waves the knife. “You must admit it was genius thinking on my part. You were amazingly easy to manipulate, boy.” He adds.

Donovan looks like he could kill him with his bare hands, and I can’t help but smile. That is until Grey starts laughing again. Unable to put up with his bullshit any longer, my vision blurs red, and I lunge for him. I grapple at his hand holding the knife, and using all my strength, I twist, trying to get him to drop the weapon. He’s stubborn and doesn’t let go of it. Instead, I grab the back of his head with one hand, and with the other hand I grip tighter on his hand. I pull power from an unknown source and gather all the strength I can. I attempt to line his neck with the knife.

Time seems to stand still as I relish in the thought that it could all be over for him soon. With a final push on the knife, it connects with his neck, piercing through his skin like butter. He makes a disgusting noise that is in between a choke and a gurgle. He attempts to speak, but blood spills from his mouth and his grip on me weakens. Roughly, I pull the knife out of his neck, and shove him to the ground before I wipe the blade off with my shirt. Satisfied, I glare down at him as blood pours out of his neck. The two bull dogs lunge forward, but Donovan cuts them off, his cold command a stark warning to keep their mouths shut and their backs against the wall. I can almost taste the tension as my heart pounds in my chest.

Donovan hasn’t uttered a word to me yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time. He won’t let me slip away, not after what I’ve done. My gaze flickers between him, the two bull dogs, before directing it down to the body sprawled on the ground. I wonder, with a gnawing dread, if everything he spat out in his final moments was true. Is my sister still out there? All I ever wanted was revenge. This wasn’t how I envisioned my liberation. The very thought of him trying to twist my reality with his lies makes my skin crawl. I can’t bear to look at his body any longer; I feel suffocated by the weight of the moment. I need to escape, I need to think, to find a way out.

Remembering I’m the one with the knife, I walk toward Donovan. He doesn’t flinch when I hold the knife up to his face; he truly has bigger balls than what I thought. “Tell the men to stand down so I can leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

I’m on the verge of some sort of breakdown, I will lose it if I don’t get out of here soon.

“I don’t think so,” he replies, smugly.

“I will slice your face open if you don't let me out of here.” I say maliciously.

“Turning into a serial killer overnight, are we? Got the taste for blood, huh?” He replies, unfazed by the fact that I’m threatening his life.

“I don’t need your smart remarks right now, just let me walk out of here, and…”

“That’s not going to happen,” he interrupts, closing the distance between our bodies. Confused by his actions, I point the knife under his chin, and apply pressure, slowly pushing the knife into his skin.

And just when I think I've won, I’m overcome in immense pain. I stumble back, scanning down to where I feel pain. There is blood pouring out from my side. Confusion floods me, and I ever so slowly take a step backwards until I hit something. I turn my gaze and my eyes lock with Raines. With a look of hatred, she gazes at me with tears rolling down her cheeks, her eyes are red like she has been crying for a while. I reach out to her, my hand trembling. Suddenly, pain shoots through my head, so much so that it causes me to black out.

“Whatdidyoudo?”I shout.

“You wouldn’t have lived with yourself, if I had let you kill him, Sweetheart. I know how it feels, I couldn’t let you go through that,” Don replies calmly, as he steps toward me.

Embracing me tightly, I welcome his warmth, letting it calm me. My thoughts are a stormy sea of waves as I glare down at Jack. Don has knocked him unconscious. Slowly, I turn my gaze to Don’s father. A knot tightens in my stomach as I glare down at his body. Considering there’s blood everywhere, I’m not grossed out like I imagined I would. “What do we do now?” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the blood.

“That depends, Sweetheart,” he replies sweetly.

“Depends on what?” I inquire, lifting my head up so I can look at him.

“We have two options. One: we can call the police, and they will take Jack into custody and his fate will rely on the state. Or two: we lock him up until we can come to a decision ourselves.”

“I like option two,” I blurt out without thinking.

Don raises an eyebrow at me, before turning his head toward whoever the men are behind us. “Get him up and checked over,” he demands, pointing to Jack. “But make sure, and I mean make sure, that he’s restrained properly,” he adds.

Without verbally responding, they do as directed, gripping Jack under his arms and dragging him out. Don turns back to me, his gaze locks with mine. Fixed and intense, it sends a shiver down my spine. “Why did you come back in here? I thought you were staying in the car?” His tone is soft, not angry like I expected.

“You were in here for a long time and I got scared. I couldn’t just sit in the car wondering if anything happened to you. I needed to know you were okay.” I reply, burying my head into his chest.

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