Page 69 of Love Sick

“She has always been an optimist.”

“Optimist?” I scoff, standing and squaring off with this dickhead. “She is insane. But it seems the apple doesn’t fall from the tree. If you cared about her, you’d have her committed and given the help she needs.”

“I can’t do that. She’d never be able to practice again.”

“And you say that like it’s a bad thing. Unless I stuttered, she gave me a heart with the intention of cutting it back out to revive her fiancé to relieve herself of the guilt of killing him. She’s dangerous…to everyone around her, and to herself.

“As her…parent—” I don’t even know what term to use. “You’re supposed to protect her. Not encourage her delusions. If Luna and I are needed to vouch for Parkfields, then you know it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

“That place is fucking hell on earth and if it’s been in your family for generations, then I hate to think of what happened to the many patients who passed through its doors.”

Daddy just listens, stroking his gray mustache like a fucking creep. “You have no fear; it’s remarkable.”

“I’ve seen your daughter fuck a corpse, Doc. We’re well past fear. I’ll play your fucking concert and sing Parkfields’s and Alanna’s praises, but if something happens to Luna, I will sing like a fucking canary.”

“If only Lana did that transplant on a nobody, none of this would be happening. People don’t seem to care about the nobodies.”

“That’s fucking deplorable, you self-entitled fuck,” I spit, shaking my head. “Who made you judge, jury, and executioner to decide such a thing? No one’s life is more important.”

I remember the guilt I felt on the way to the hospital. For me to live, someone just died, someone who didn’t deserve that fate.

“That is noble but unrealistic in this world.”

Alanna suddenly appears to be the lesser of two evils when compared to this asshole.

I’m about to give him an earful when the foundations of the mansion rock—literally.

It takes about three seconds before Daddy and I are scrambling out the door, hell-bent on getting to what sounds like Wrestlemania taking place down the hallway. But Wrestlemania is child’s play compared to what we see.

Luna has Alanna in a headlock and is ramming her face into what’s left of a wall. The plaster shatters around her, but that doesn’t stop Luna. She spins around and drives Alanna’s head into the opposite wall—over and over again.

Alanna tries to fight her off, but she doesn’t stand a chance.

Daddy runs for Luna, but I launch forward, tackling him to the floor. I pin him down with my weight, but the fucker is strong, and I’m wounded, something which he takes advantage of as he reaches around with his free arm and punches me in the back of my knee.

It hurts like a motherfucker, but I breathe past the pain and use all my weight to keep him down. He flails like a wild animal, but I am running on rage and pure adrenaline—this is a fight he’s going to lose.

I place my forearm against his throat, arching his head back so I choke the life out of this asshole. He desperately claws at my arm, but I only press down harder. He gasps for air, and I suddenly realize that I have no qualms killing this asshole.

If that makes me a monster, then so be it.

The fight in him dies, but when I peer up and see a syringe pressed into Luna’s throat, I freeze.

“Let him go,” Alanna says, spitting out a mouthful of blood. She stands behind Luna who uses her eyes as cues; she’d rather die than surrender.

“What’s in the syringe?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. Will you take the risk? Can you live with that on your conscience?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Luna screams, begging I finish Daddy off, who wheezes for air. “She’s nothing without him. You can show the world what monsters they both are.”

So much for our plans to fly under the radar. But both Luna and I are fighters; we don’t submit like dogs.

I don’t fail to notice Alanna use the termyouas she knows there is noweif I do this. I kill Daddy, and as a result, Alanna kills Luna. I don’t know what’s in the syringe. It’s Russian roulette but with Luna’s life.

I can’t do that. I could never live with myself.

“Dutch!” Luna cries, but I can’t.

---