Page 45 of Tear Me Down
He thought of me for all these years? Or ‘used to think’ of me from what he said? He never thought to call someone, or attempt to guide me away somehow, so that it didn’t leave me completely wrecked. Granted, a strangernever should’ve had to. I should’ve been taught how to take care of myself from the two people that made me—should’ve learned so many lessons that didn’t almost end with me losing my life or taking it myself.
“Can I ask you something?” my voice comes out a little more strained than before, but Turk nods his head anyway, even as Damien searches the table for whatever tool he wants to choose to end his life. “You were my parents’ dealer up until they died, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Did they…” I feel my throat tighten as the tears come back. “Did they even notice I was gone? Realize that I never came back after that day?” He narrows his gaze.
“Your dad? He couldn’t give a less fuck about you—said the next time I showed up that he’d see you selling yourself soon enough. Your mom though, she asked if I’d seen ya around once. She wondered ‘where that ungrateful bitch went.’ I never heard about you again after that. Some of the saddest shit I’ve ever heard.” A tear finally falls and reaches my cheek before it barrels down my face.
There shouldn’t be any surprise with what he said, any shock or doubt that he’s right, but it’s still so hard to hear. I didn't matter to them; I never did. They probably hated me the moment I was born, but then why keep me? If they didn’t want me at all, why have me? Were they so high that they didn’t know or weren’t coherent enough to decide?
Why is a part of me still searching for the slightest glimmer of hope that they cared about me? Why am I still the little girl trying to make my parents proud of me? I didn’t want much, I never asked for anything or caused trouble—I walked on glass trying to appease them, and did almost anything to get them to love me…
The time for needing their love is over—dead, gone, and buried, never to be resurfaced again. I want every last reminder of them gone—the pain, the neglect, the years of trauma that I’ve never fully gotten over. I was doing so well, barely even thinking of them, and then Turk popped up, doing what he’s always done and ruining lives in ways that will leave his victims scarred. They don’t deserve to be remembered or thought about, and they certainly don’t deserve to take up my mind or my dreams anymore. Neither does Turk, because even though I haven’t thought about him in a long time, knowing that he’s still living, breathing, and constantly carrying a connection to my disgusting parents enrages me.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so fucking angry that the heat is building in my chest and radiating outward, causing the tears that are running down my face to feel even hotter. My parents held me back for so long, forced fears into my mind that I never should’ve had, made me feel less than useless, like I wasn’t worth that air I breathed or the dirt and blood I walked on.
I look over to Damien again, seeing the anger and resentment on his face as he attempts to choose a weapon worthy of Turk’s death, but anything he’ll receive tonight is better than he deserves. There’s nothing in this room thatwill atone for my past, and I just want him gone, decaying six feet under and taking my memories with him.
Without thinking, I react—settling for the closest thing I can reach and picking up Damien’s pistol, feeling the weight of it in my hand, although it’s not as heavy as the trauma that lingers.
Before Damien can stop me, I point the gun at Turk’s head, right between the eyes as I look into them one last time, seeing the broken shards that are hidden there. My heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat, like it’s urging me to go through with it—to take my revenge, and then it’ll all be better. I can finally be the partner Damien needs me to be, emerge a new woman and face the world head on while I leave my demons in their graves.
I take a shaky breath and allow one last tear to fall before I pull the trigger, feeling my body jerk from the kickback and sensing the relief instantly crash down on me as the shot echoes across the room. Damien’s stare finds me, and I don’t even have to turn around to sense the shock on his face. I can sense the underlying pride as well, and the moment I feel him behind me, I drop the gun to the floor.
Chapter sixteen
Ashia
The Next Day
‘Let Me Be Sad’ – I Prevail
The smell of spinach-dip chicken pasta permeates the air, carrying throughout the house and settling in to create a soothing atmosphere that I desperately need. My mind has been racing since last night, stumbling over the resurfaced feelings that were conjured up with seeing Turk, but I think I’m handling it better than I thought I would. I slept well for the most part, and I didn’t feel a dark cloud of doom looming over me when I woke up.
Apart from the continued sickly feeling from my recovery, I'm not sure what I feel. Numb? Empty? Detached? I'm not sure that's what I'd call it—my thoughts and feelings on the matter are being pulled in every direction, and I feel like I might still be processing the events of the last twenty-four hours. That’s now a second life I’ve taken, and this time it wasn’t necessary—it was something I wanted to do, and that might be where part of my problem lies.
I think Damien was waiting for me to break, expecting me to snap and either sob or go on a rampage, but I surprisingly feel calm, like a weight was lifted off of me and I can walk lighter. That weight might be held over my head until the rope is cut and it crushes me, but for now I’m doing okay. Did I get any answers? Not really. I knew his response before he said it out loud, but I needed to ask. That was the first time I’ve actually expressed the disgust for my parents out loud to someone that actually knew them, and the relief that comes from confronting him settles in deep.
Damien should be home soon, and Zeke might actually stay for dinner. Which, considering where we were a few weeks ago, is a huge step in the right direction. At work today, he even talked to me throughout the day and was saying how much fun Taylor had last night. She really loosened up, and it was nice to see Zeke so happy. Recalling all of the fun before the emotional turmoil helps lighten my mood some, and I try my best to focus on that.
I apparently also convinced him to ask Carter about his biological family—said I peaked his interest and wanted to know more information, whether it’s useful or not. I just hope that after what he told me about drugs being in his system at birth, that his biological parents aren’t as evil as mine were.
Serena and Zeke are sitting at the kitchen island, talking away and pretending like they’ve known each other their entire lives. How can Serena be so comfortable with everyone she meets after only knowing them for five minutes? I’m not sure, but I’m glad there are never any awkward stages with her. She’s so outgoing and personable, and besidesDamien, I’m not sure there’s anyone that doesn’t enjoy her company. While I used to be envious of that, now it’s just something I admire about her.
Zeke is telling us about his first few months with DH, retelling every horrid story where he messed something up or doubted himself. When he recalls his first kill, he goes into way more detail than I would’ve thought, and it makes me think not only of Turk, but of my first kill. The moment I all but blacked out and mauled a dangerous man in the heat of the moment.
A part of me can still feel the shears in my hands, playing back every motion to a perfect ‘T’ and doing it again exactly the same way—but the other part of me feels distant from it, as if I’m watching it happen from afar, and the two scenes melt together in my mind. At this point, I almost question if it happened at all.
“So, Ash. You’ve got to tell me how you lured that guy over last night. D said it was something to marvel over.” He chuckles like he’s impressed and pulls me out of my thoughts. His positivity towards the situation brings back the giddy feeling from before the plummet last night.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal. I just pretended I was drunk and poked my boobs out. That was enough to get his attention.” We all laugh, and Serena follows up with a ‘that’s my girl’ comment, which makes me feel even better.
“So, I take it that means you got to see the bar’s kill room in action?” Zeke asks, and my stomach drops a little.
“Yeah, you could definitely say that.”
“I would say. Shooting someone in the face is messy work. You’re lucky the room is soundproof and we have a good cleanup crew.” He laughs in total amusement, but that’s not what I focus on. Serena’s face falls and her brows furrow as she takes in what he’s leading towards, glancing at me with so much doubt in her eyes that it makes my heart ache.
