Page 61 of The Hallows Boys

Her blonde hair is identical to mine when I was little, and grief washes over me like an infection, making tears fill my eyes. I keep flipping through, watching my mom grow up before me on the pages.

I’ve never seen either of my parents as children before, so I take my time examining every photo of my mom, memorizing every single thing about her when she was growing up.

I get to the end of the album and toss it to the side to grab the second one. My mom grows from a small child into a preteen wearing glitter tees and high-waisted denim skirts, then into a teenager with streaks through her hair and makeup on her beautiful face.

When I get to the end of this album, there’re tears running down my face and dripping onto the paper, so I try to wipe it away before I shut the book and put it to the side.

I lift the box into my lap, pulling out the loose photos that are in the bottom.

These are from when my mom was older, maybe a little younger than I am now, but definitely when she was in high school.

The first one has my dad in it too, as well as my uncle and another guy I don’t recognize. My heart stops as I stare at my father and his twin brother, both of them on either side of my mom like they’re all the best of friends. I study the third man, but my mind comes up blank – which isn’t weird, because why would I recognize someone my parents went to high school with?

I flip the photo over, finding that it’s been written on with permanent marker on the back. My entire body turns cold when I read the words, my lungs constricting and making me gasp for air.

ME & THE HALLOWS BOYS – 2002

My stomach turns to lead, making me feel sick. I huff a laugh. I guess history really does repeat itself, huh?

I put the photo to the side, intent on keeping that one, then look at the next one. This one is of my mother with another girl, both of them probably around sixteen or seventeen. I flip this one over too, finding that it’s been written on as well.

ME & M

Who the fuck is M? I flip it back over, studying the girl’s face just in case I recognize it, but I don’t. There’s no reason for me to though, since I’m assuming my parents left all their friends in the dust too when they left Blackmore.

I put that one in mykeeppile as well and continue flipping through photos.

I find so many pictures of my mom with friends, my dad, my uncle, and the third Hallows Boy from their generation – I guess the founding fathers of the games – and I keep them all.

The last photo is of that ‘M’ girl again, with the Hallows Boys around her. Her face is twisted into a scowl, like she doesn’t want her photo taken. My dad and his friends are all laughing, and I assume it was my mother that took the photo since she isn’t in it.

I keep that one too.

After I put all the random photos I don’t want back into the bottom of the box, I set the albums back on top of them before replacing the lid and putting the boxes back where I found them.

I leave my grandmother’s room, making my way to my bedroom to hide the pictures I’ve stolen underneath my mattress. I’m left with two thoughts as I lie down on top of my bedspread and stare up at the sky.

I need to figure out who M is and find the last Hallows Boy from their generation.

ChapterTwenty-Six

VINNY

My jaw grinds the entire time I run laps across the football field after practice. You would think a full workout and scrimmage would be enough to sate the burning adrenaline inside of me, but it wasn’t. I decided to stay after everyone left to push myself even further, trying to get some of the pent-up aggression inside of me to chill the fuck out.

Although I get where Kai is coming from – why he’s so worried about Sage’s legacy and lineage – it still pisses me off. I crave her, every minute of every fucking day. But Becks and Kai are my family, and if I need to shove down whatever it is I’m feeling for the blonde succubus, I can.

Despite the fact that Sage would slide into our lives flawlessly, I will do everything I can to push her away and hold her at a distance. That is, until we figure out what she’s going to do with the newfound information that she’s a Blackmore.

I can’t risk fucking everything up, because after all, what else do I have besides Kaiden and Beckham?

My mom died giving birth to me, leaving my father to become the only parent I’ve ever known, and he raised me with an iron fist and a leather belt. He blames me for the brokenness inside of himself, for the loss of his wife, as if I’m the one that caused the hemorrhaging inside her body that made her bleed out on the operating table. For years, though, I believed him. I hated myself, sliced up the flesh of my arms and legs to punish myself for murdering my mother. I believed the things he said when he took out his anger on me in the form of his fists – that if I had never been born, she would still be alive. That she died so I could live.

I believed that I was as worthless as he told me I was, that I wasn’t worth the fucking life I took when she died, that the world would be better off without me.

Kaiden was the one that pulled me out from underneath the suffocating burden of grief and depression. Beckham was the one to clean up my bloody wrists and thighs, nursing me back to health when I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. The deep, dark hole of self-loathing inside of me was filled with Beckham and Kaiden, and eventually I was able to claw myself free from the clutches of my mental health.

Now my father’s words don’t sting as badly, because I know that I didn’t do anything wrong. I learned to defend myself against his fists after he’s drowned his sorrows in a bottle of Jim Beam.

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