Page 3 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

Interestingly enough, the person I hate the most is the same person that quenches my thirst.

Addison is the worst person I’ve ever known, and that’s saying a lot considering the company I keep. She is an awful shell of a woman, broken by the world and hellbent on breaking those around her. Her worst sin wasn’t taking the life of my brother. No, the worst thing she’s ever done to me was change how I look at my deceased little bro.

I still struggle to understand exactly what happened that fateful day. I still struggle believing that he was a sick pervert. It’s bad enough to lose someone I loved so young. It’s even worse to lose the memory of who I thought he was.

I think I was going to kill Addison the day she finally told me the truth. I can’t know for certain if I would have had the guts to pull the trigger, but I can still remember the bitter taste of revenge on the edge of my tongue. I thought I got better. I thought I got over it as fast as it threatened to undo me but when I saw her again standing at the hotel, I thought about ending it right there.

And then she told me she was pregnant, and it changed everything. It’s like something in me snapped. Something in me suddenly didn’t want to fight anymore. Instead of being a man hellbent on revenge, I became a man hellbent on protection. Almost like I was blessed with a second chance to take care of someone in this world and I’m talking about the child, not Addison.

I can never fully trust her. Just the same, it’d be wise for her to never fully trust me either. I can’t change my past any more than I can change the fact that I am capable of feeling such violent emotions, even if they never come to fruition.

I eye her with suspicion on every occasion, knowing that there’s something beneath that surface waiting to boil over. I stick around for a multitude of reasons. These include not wanting to be a deadbeat father, not being able to resist the toxic attraction I have to her, and most importantly wanting to know what she’s hiding on those tapes.

I warned her not to grab them.

I warned her that nothing could come from it.

She didn’t listen though. She never does. I’m not good at using the two ears the good lord gave me either, but I know enough to listen to my gut. And my gut is telling me that there’s something going on in that little head of hers. I absolutely refuse to become another casualty of hers, but it’s a dangerous game to play.

I kick back in the uncomfortable chair and check my watch. Emily should be home any minute now. I’m not trying to give the girl a heart attack by breaking into her apartment and waiting for her to return from a night of partying, but it’s the only way I can ensure I get the chance to see her. She has a bad habit of not answering the phone and staying as far as humanly possible away from me.

I take a look at the small apartment. It’s run-down, the furthest thing from the manors and penthouses we were raised in. I guess that’s the point. She and I both ran from our upbringings, for different reasons and in different ways. She wants to shed every bit of the Callaway lifestyle until all that’s left is a hollow shell of a woman. She can then flesh out that hollowness with a life of her own.

The front door is already cracked open when she finally arrives. She pushes the door forward and cautiously peeks her head inside. Not the smartest thing to do when your apartment is in a complex overrun by drug dealers. She rolls her eyes when she notices me and closes the door behind her.

Her eyes are bloodshot, and her hair is frayed. Her clothes are wrinkled and she’s missing one sock underneath her left shoe. She’s been out partying all night, probably hasn’t even been to sleep yet.

She tosses her purse onto the chair beside me and claws her hands over the front of her face as she lets out a stifled groan. “I am way too hungover for this.”

“I thought we should talk.”

“That’s why I have a phone, so I can avoid these conversations with the people that I hate.”

“Do you really hate me, Emily?”

She opens the refrigerator door and grabs a half-empty bottle of water. “That’s what I said.”

I rise to my feet and meet her halfway, which is about five feet from the couch. “You can’t keep punishing me like this.”

“Do you think this is punishing you?” She takes a long gulp of water and then wipes her mouth with the side of her arm. “When I look at you, I see him. I see what he did to those girls and maybe that’s not fair to you-”

“You’re right,” I say, interrupting her. “It’s not fair to me. Neither of us can change who he was, but you’ve already lost one brother. Why do you want to push me away too?”

“You want the truth to that question?”

I nod, indicating that I do.

She continues, “The only happiness I’ve ever felt in my entire adult life is the moment I broke free from the family. It was suffocating me.”

“You’re not an adult yet, Emily,” I remind her. “Not for another week.”

“I’m trying to open up to you and you’re going to bully me with semantics. This is the kind of shit I’m talking about.” She passes me with a huff, dropping down onto the couch and throwing her head back.

“You’re a kid.”

“Iwasa kid,” she groans. “Where were you then, back when I actually needed you?”

I turn to her and pause, scratching at the base of my chin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around, but I had my own demons to fight. I couldn’t stay in this place because of the things I had done.”

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