Page 72 of Throne of Sin

She nods. “I’m sorry for how all this went down, Dante. I wish I could change the past for you—so you could have found out about her sooner. It will always be my regret.”

“You and me both.” I sigh. “My car will come and get her tomorrow and then drop her back off. I’ll pay for this house, since Oakleigh will be staying here.”

I stare into her gorgeous face. It’s as emotionless as mine, and her eyes…they look as dead as my soul.Good. I’m petty like that. I want her to hurt so bad that she sinks into herself. Every time she looks into the mirror, I want her to remember the pain she has caused.

“What about us?” she questions softly.

“I don’t know Dem, I’m still processing that I’m a father.”

I hand her a cell phone. “This is for Oakleigh. I want her to call me any time she wants.”

She takes it, placing it on the counter behind her. “I love you Dante.”

I ignore her sad voice. “Oakleigh and I will spend the day together tomorrow. Like I said, I’ll send my driver for her. Now excuse me, I’m going to say goodbye to my daughter and let her know.” Demi nods, her eyes puffy and red.

I march out of her house, looking for my daughter.

Chapter 36

Demi

Thenextday,Iinsist I go with Oakleigh to Dante’s. She looks so brave walking up to his house alone. He opens the door, gives her a hug, then glares at me through the blacked-out car window until we start rolling away.

The partition has stayed down the entire time. “Can you drive me to my mother’s?”

“Yes, ma’am.” No need to give him her address, he goes there without asking any questions.

The car stops at the base of the driveway and the first thing I see is my old car. “Thank you,” I mumble, stepping out. I walk around my car in disbelief. I never thought I’d see it again. It looks like it was just washed and I wonder if my mother saw who dropped it off.

I knock three times at the front door and get no answer. My hand reaches above the porch light that has never worked and slips a key off the dirty top.

“Mom!” I holler. My stomach rolls with nausea, scared of not knowing what I’ll find.Time to wear my grownup panties. Maybe she’s not home, or she’s just sleeping.

We’ve never been close, but she is my mother and I still love her. She did the best she could, and she did good by my daughter.

My steps creek along the stairs as I go toward my mother’s room and push her door open with my finger to find her in bed. I hold her hand, it’s colder than mine. Placing my two fingers on her neck, I search for her pulse. I can’t find it. My hands shake uncontrollably as I take the phone Dante gave me and call 9-1-1.

The ambulance comes within minutes, which is strange for this part of town. Instead of taking us to the small hospital with limited resources, we are taken into the city to the bigger hospital. I can’t help but wonder if this is all because of Dante, but how would he know? I have to stop thinking about him. An image of his dark eyes, hooded, staring me down, flashes before my eyes and I shake my head to have it disappear.

He’s done with me, as he should be.

It would hurt less if I felt he wasn’t right. I deserve the punishment. I deserve everything I get. An hour later, at the hospital, my mother is declared dead. She was still alive when I found her. If I arrived earlier, I could have saved her.

Dante’s driver is by the emergency exit when I leave the building. I would love to keep walking and refuse the ride, but I don’t even have money for an Uber right now.

“Thank you for picking me up. Can you take me to my mother’s house, please?” I greet, opening the door and taking a seat inside. The entire way, I close my eyes with my head leaned back, allowing the sway of the car to loll me back and forth. The jerking motion of stopping wakes me from my light sleep and I look through the window to find I’m right where I started, back in my old neighborhood.

“Thank you,” I say as I step out.

I walk into my old home, into the kitchen, and open the fridge door. It’s empty except for milk. I open the cupboard and see a box of cheerios and a bag of jellybeans. The jellybeans call to me. I open the bag, pouring myself a handful. My mouth waters, and I already know the moment I have one, I’ll end up eating it all, until my stomach hurts. My hand is midair, ready to pour a handful into my mouth, when I spot a prescription bottle staring at me in the corner. It’ll be easier to numb the pain than to process it.

I place the candy on the counter, grabbing the orange plastic jar. My hand pushes down and twists the lid open, sliding two pills out from the bottle. I easily toss them in my mouth, before realizing I cannot be my mother.

I run to the sink, spitting them out. I take the candy on the counter, tossing them in the garbage and the bag next to them. If I get hungry, I’ll eat the cereal.

It’s not even noon and I’m exhausted. The comfort of my old room calls to me.

It feels strange to sleep in my old bed knowing that Dante isn’t on the other side of the street. Each time I turn in bed, the clock has moved twenty minutes. My eyes feel heavier than they did before I tried to nap, but I drag my tired and sore body out of bed and into the shower.

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