Page 15 of Fight

“It disturbs me on a very real level,” Ace murmurs, staring up at the painting by an ornately carved wooden door.

“It’s so horrible, but I can’t help but stare at it.” Rip replies.

“When we’re finished in here, we can take it down and show the grandparents. I have a feeling it will be put on the bonfire pile that they’ve already got going.” Rome replies as he tries the handle of his father's office.

When it doesn’t budge, Ace starts to offer, “I’ve got my lock picking kit; I can,” before he can finish, Rome brings his booted foot up and kicks the door as hard as he can, splintering the wood and making the door open with an almighty bang. Ace snickers, “Or you could do that.”

Chapter Six

“Ifucking hate this room,” Rome replies honestly, and I frown, moving away from Ace and over to his side.

I quietly ask, “Are you going to be okay going in here? We go in and grab everything that we think might be important and then head to a different room in the house to go through it.” Rome looks at me, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, so I say, my voice firm, “Is there anywhere that’s best for us to look?”

“No, he never hid anything or anything like that in here. He was too arrogant to think that anyone would dare to break in.” Rome replies.

“Okay, you and Rip, go take down that godawful fucking painting and go and show the grandparents. We’ll grab everything that we can and meet you back in the main front room.”

“Actually, we can use the room next to the front room, there’s a massive table in there, and we’ll be able to spread out a bit,” Rome replies, the relief evident in his tone and posture.

“Come on, Dude,” Rip says, clapping him on the let's get this painting down.

“We’ll meet you in that room in about ten minutes,” I reply and give him a kiss, turning him back to face Rip while Ace, Mason, and Mal all follow me into Silas’s office.

Rip

She’s amazing. I will never take for granted how quickly she can assess a situation or our feelings and then just fix it like the solution is obvious and easy to do. The relief that Rome is feeling not having to step into that room is incredibly clear, and because it’s so profound, once we’re left alone, and each have a corner of the giant painting, as we lift it off the wall, I open my mouth to ask him about what it is about that room in particular that distresses him so much.

Before I can, he tells me, “That room is where my father would dole out his punishments. I can still see it, feel it, fucking smell the cigar smoke.”

I nod, my anger for his father rising, Silas was a sadistic man, and I can't even begin to imagine the pain that he inflicted on Rome. “I don’t blame you for not going back in, man. I wouldn’t have.”

Rome hums in agreement before clearing his throat and changing the subject as the painting finally comes off the wall, “Fucking hell, it’s heavier than I thought.”

Grunting under the weight as we start to move down the hallway, which is thankfully wide enough that we don’t have to struggle with the big fucker of a painting, I add, “It’ll burn fucking well though, and I can’t wait to see the grandparents reaction to this. Especially Cecil, he’s a fucking riot.”

Rome chuckles, the shadows in his eyes fading away even more, “Tell me about it. You can see where Ace gets some of his personality from.”

“I’m actually really glad that they’re all okay and nothing like our parents were,” Rome adds, struggling with the door.

“Me too,” I reply.

The rest of the walk to the front room where the grandparents are is done in silence, mostly because we have to fucking concentrate, there are so many priceless antiques that we could knock and break, and although we do deliberately bump into a couple of the more gaudy pieces on purpose, some of them are stunning and clearly family heirlooms that have been here since the very beginning, when this house was first built and when the families first founded this town. Those are the antiques that we are being extremely careful not to break.

Thankfully for us, the door to the front room is open, and the grandparents all fall silent as we walk in, carrying the massive painting between us.

“What the fuck is that?” My grandfather asks, only being able to see the back of it.

Rome smiles as we shift and work together to turn it around so that they can see, “We brought you something else to burn.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Dexter exclaims.

“What the fuck is that?” my grandma adds, staring in absolute horror at the painting.

“That’s a joke, right? it wasn’t done seriously?” Malory asks.

“Oh, it was done seriously; it was his pride and fucking joy,” Rome replies.

“It’s so bad that I feel like I need to finish this bottle of whiskey, spray it with gas, bring out my very rusty bomb making skills, shoot it a few times just because I feel like I need to for my own peace of mind and then blow into teeny tiny pieces that we can then burn again just to make sure that no one ever has to be subjected to that horror ever again.” Cecil elaborately gestures the whole time he’s describing what he wants to do.

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