Page 77 of Splintered Memories
I wasn’t sure what I expected to walk inside. Something monstrous, I supposed. Something ugly enough to leave my brother in the condition he was in.
But monsters were really just people. They were like everybody else, and had families and people who loved them. They blended in so that you didn’t even know they were predators.
My Uncle Amos smiled at me as he hauled that thick door closed behind him. He pressed his thumb against a screen under the handle and the locks engaged, shutting himself inside with us.
When he turned back to me, his eyes glinted in a way that sent nausea through me.
“Ah, you’re finally awake, Emy-Su.”
Hearing my childhood nickname come from his mouth had me swallowing back vomit. I hardened my stare on him, still so confused, but choosing to embrace the anger burning through me.
“Don’t call me that,” I spat at him.
He chuckled, a sound that sent chills over my skin. How had a man, who once felt safe to me, turned into this?
“You were always so feisty.” He crouched in front of me.
I flinched back, drawing back as far into the wall as possible.
“That’s part of why I always liked you.” He reached for me.
I pulled away in vain, my chains making me helpless to stop him as he touched a tendril of my hair.
“I always resented that you dyed your hair, though. You were so pretty as a brunette.”
Terror entwined my insides, constricting until I couldn’t breathe and numbness spread throughout my limbs.
I had started dying my hair after my sister died. I had hated my dull, brown hair and envied my sister’s fiery red locks. I never wanted to go exactly to her shade of red, but I got as close as I was comfortable with.
It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t like the color of my hair that had the fear choking me. It was the fact that the Shadow Stalker had a preference for brunettes. Every victim was one.
Amos’s eyes widened with entertained glee. He chuckled again, and I wanted to slide right out of my skin.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, flashing his straight white teeth. “I don’t see you as one of them. I’m not going to…violate you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I retched at that, my stomach clenching and revolting as I dry heaved to the side. When I was done, I forced myself to look back at him.
“Why did you take me, then?” My voice trembled, like my body.
Amos cocked his head to the side. “The same reason I took your brother.” His eyes narrowed. “To get back at your father. Although, I had hoped taking your brother first would distract you from your pesky videos.” He shook his head. “At least Tristan felt the pain of his adsense.”
I jerked my head back. “What does my father have to do with this?”
Amos’s face hardened. His eyes were adamant as he sneered at me. “I have hated your father for almost my entire life.”
I frowned at him, eyebrows drawing together. Amos and my father weren’t friends, but I never thought that they hated each other. They worked together for the family business.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
Amos’s lip curled with disgust. “Of course you don’t. You don’t understand anything.” He sighed, as if annoyed with me. “That’s the thing about people. They often only see what they want to. That’s why it’ssoeasy to deceive. All you have to do is show them what they want to see.”
I shuddered. “Is that what happened with us?” I hissed. “You knew we wanted a loving parent and so you gave it to us?” I injected rage into my words, but they cut me deep. Tears pricked in my eyes.
Amos shrugged. “I was willing to play the long game. Your mother was an…interesting woman. Not very motherly, though. My brother wasn’t much of the affection type, either, and it was simple to manipulate you. All I had to do was give you everything you craved: love and care. It was pathetic how easy it was to take you away from him…to have you love me more than him, your own father.”
I bristled. “Why would you care about taking this away from him? What the hell did he ever do to you?”
He tensed. “What did he do?” His face pinched in disgust. “What hasn’t the prestigious Tristan Hawthorn done?” My father’s name sounded like a curse on his lips. “I’m sure you know our story. My mother had me as a bastard before she met your grandfather. She fell head over heels in love with the man. It was as if she could smell the potential on him. He was nothing but a mildly successful farmer at the time, but he was ambitious. By the time they had Tristan, he was already starting his business. He built the Hawthorn name with Tristan and me at his side.”
