Page 75 of Unruly Obsession
Only a moron would think he’d walk out of that unscathed. As a family, he’s collateral damage himself.
I remove the vial and a syringe from my pocket. I wanted to make this bloody, brutalize him in a way that he deserves. But unlike my father, who was expected to meet a miserable death, Henrith will be put into an expensive casket, revered and mourned by those who don’t truly know him. But at the very least, I do this forher.
The grim reaper of her father.
When Henrith notices the vial, he tries to laugh but ends up in a coughing fit. “You think my daughter will accept you as some kind of hero after this?”
I raise the vial, extracting its contents with the syringe. “No, I know she’ll hate me because, for whatever reason, she still has love for you. But I’m happy to kill a love when it does not serve her, including her love for me. You will never hurt her again.”
Henrith’s smile twists cruelly. “She was an obedient daughter until you poisoned her mind.”
“Your error was ever thinking she was just a pawn for you to use,” I say calmly as I push the contents of the syringe into the IV.
His eyes go wide as he stares at it, and the cowardice and reality of his actions come to the forefront.
“It’s only fitting that you’re killed with a poison, taking you from the inside out. After all, that’s what you’ve been doing for all of these years with the drinking, isn’t it?”
I remove the syringe and stand over him with total ease as the poison does its job. “I’ll see you in hell, Henrith.”
I watch him gasp his final breaths, and for the first time in a long time, I take true satisfaction in a murder unlike when I killed my father, when I was fueled with so much uncertainty of what was to come.
This time, I know exactly what to expect.
I did this to keep her safe.
Even if I'm ruining her peace, when I want to be it instead.
32
LILY
My eyes feel heavy. I groan in complaint, the side of my face pounding as I look at the empty space beside me in Lorenzo’s bed. I don’t know what time it is, but I know it took me what felt like forever to finally fall asleep.
I embraced Lorenzo, running his hand over my hair last night, as if gently petting me to sleep. His absence deepens the pit in my stomach. There were so many things I wanted to say to him last night, a wild confession brewing within me. The truth of the matter is, I felt relief when he burst into the family room before being scared by his unhinged rage.
As Lorenzo pried further into my childhood last night, I wanted to combat him, so used to pushing away anyone who looked further into my family dynamics. From a young age, I understood that what happened in my home wasn’t normal. That my friends' families didn’t harbor such ugly secrets. I was trained and conditioned by my mother to never discuss it, and advised by my father that if I were to tell anyone or try to leave, I’d be cast out from the family with no future in sight. A threat that no longer has a hold over me like it once had.
But up until now, I always smiled and pretended everything was okay. At times, I even convinced myself it was. Especially when he finally let me move out for college. He let me keep my apartment, and with some convincing from my mother, I was permitted to open and run the flower shop. I thought he was seeing me as a grown woman, slowly releasing a shackle. But the only one convincing me of that freedom was myself.
I thought no one understood, but Lorenzo does. However, we still had very different upbringings. Part of that is what makes me admire his strength to step into action, though perhaps not the bloody part. But I also understand that those murderous hands are the same ones that protect me and brush my hair gently when I try to fall asleep at night.
I don’t yet know what I’ll do about my father. I’ve finally gained the courage to escape the toxic cycle, but his outburst last night only confirms that he's still very much the same man he was when I lived there.
I sit up on the side of the bed, my toes curling at the coolness of the wooden floors.
I should feel liberated today, and yet, my mind is still drifting back and forth.How will my father respond? Will he ruin me or my shop? Take my apartment away from me? Take it out on my mother?
But there’s a small voice inside me, telling me, for once, it’s going to be okay.
Maybe that has to do with Lorenzo’s confession last night. My heart flutters at the way he expressed he’d protect me no matter what.That he loves me.
I wanted to tell him the same, but could immediately sense the wall he put between us. I was also shocked, unsure how I felt about his level of violence. I don’t understand the full scope of what being with Lorenzo looks like.
But without a doubt, I know I love him.
My face throbs.
My father did this.
