Page 104 of Vicious Hearts

“What would I be avenging, Papa?”

“Sin,” he growls. “You will be punishing the wicked for their evil ways.” His eyes narrow. “You will punish the monsters who put me in this place.”

The sound of a chair scraping back across the floor has me turning to see Dr. Thompson and her assistants standing.

“Well,” she smiles at me, my father, and then at Finn. “We’ll take a short break from observation to give the three of you some time alone.”

I wish she wouldn’t. I know she does it because she thinks she's being nice, giving us time alone with our father, without being watched.

But those are the times I fear the most.

That’s when he teaches us his lessons.

Metes out his punishments.

But she doesn’t see the unspoken fear on my face as she smiles again before leaving, closing the door behind us.

Instantly, my father’s eyes land on Finn.

“Boy.”

Finn stiffens, his face paling as he sits up and stares straight ahead.

“BOY.”

Finn turns to look at our table. My father smiles a mirthless smile. “Come. Show me what you were drawing.”

Finn swallows, standing slowly and picking up the drawing. He shuffles over and lays it on the table.

“It’s a baseball game, sir,” he says quietly, biting his lip. “We went to one last week with—”

“And what isthis, on the back—”

“It’s nothing,” Finn blurts, slamming his hand down on the edge of the paper.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Our father’s eyes flash with anger. “Lift your hand, boy, or I will lift it for you.”

Finn’s eyes, already brimming with tears, dart to mine in appeal.

“Papa,” I say. “Look at the baseball—”

Finn winces as our father yanks his hand away and whips the paper over.

Oh God…

His eyes narrow to slits, his lip curling as he looks at the picture Finn has started on this side. Slowly, he smiles horribly at Finn.

“And what have you drawn here, boy?” he says quietly. “Describe it to me.”

I want to scream at Finn. I want to ask him what possessed him to draw such a thing. But I’m silent, helpless, as I stare at the drawing of what is clearly a jail cell, with a man behind bars.

A man with a silver beard and long silver hair. A man snarling in rage, with angry red eyes, a red pointy tail, and pointy red horns.

The room is silent.

“What is this, boy.”

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