Page 105 of Unravelling The Beast

"Now go! You have to be ready for your sister's birthday meal."

I stare at him from afar, wanting to skin him alive, but I can't, at least not yet. My patience is wearing thin, and his time is running the fuck out.

I take a slow, unnerving step forward before pointing at him and speaking through tight teeth.

"You're going to regret this big time, old man. No good will come from this; only countless lives will be wiped out as a result of your selfish fucking bullshit."

He rests back in his chair and swings back and forth.

"We'll see, son."

"Don't say I didn't fucking warn you, cunt."

Feeling as if I can't control myself any longer, I spin around, step over the two bodies at my feet and exit the office without saying a word.

When I enter a modern restroom on the lower floor of the building, I dash over to the sinks to cleanse the blood from my hands and arms.

Drying my hands, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in front of me, which causes me to pause and stare at myself. I don't even recognize myself anymore, and I feel disgusted by it because I don't seem to have any control over anything right now. The situation with my father, with Wren and with Bridget’s murder.

When fury takes over, I let out a roar and pull my fist back before delivering a powerful blow to the mirror, shattering it into pieces.

I rest my palms on the now-glass-filled sink in front of me, screwing my eyes tightly shut as I try to at least control my rapid breathing and the emotions that are trying to take over me.

Cree stands back and holds his arms out with a beaming smile on his face after getting dressed for Sara’s birthday dinner.

"What'd you think?"

My eyes ease and my heart melts in my chest as he looks so freaking adorable in the little black suit I helped choose for him.

"You look so handsome, Cree. I can't wait for Daddy to see you because you look just like him!"

As I stand with a broad smile, he lets out a shy, cheeky chuckle.

"I'm going to get ready, but I'll come and collect you as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay, I'll just watch TV!"

I turn around and leave his bedroom after watching him climb onto his bed.

When I gently close his door, Arlo emerges at the top of the stairs, and it startles me as he stands there staring at me intensely. My eyes move calmly down to the very visible blood splatters on his white vest tank.

As my mouth begins to dry, I swallow hard and begin to back up, our eyes locked the entire time. As soon as I reach my bedroom door, I press the door handle and enter.

I lean up against the door, exhaling a breath I wasn't aware I was holding, before digging into my back pocket for whatever he gave me today that I hadn't had time to look at.

I carefully unfold it, and my eyes widen as I realize he has sketched us in pen, embracing and kissing, and an open hand on the left with some writing etched at the bottom on the crinkled paper.

“And my hands are not cleansed; perhaps they will never be, but at least they can still carry you home when you’re ready to fall asleep.”

His words take me back to last night, when he carried me through the woods and looked after me. Could this be his way of expressing that he actually cares about me but only shows it in small doses? I'm confused by this, as I am by him in general, but I admire his effort, even if it's in an odd but sweet way.

I allow the paper to slip through my fingers and fall onto my bed before stripping naked and heading to the bathroom.

When the water is just the right temperature, I walk under it and toss my head back, letting the water fall on my face and hair.

I suddenly sense his presence behind me, and my body freezes for a moment before I spin around to face him, our eyes instantly connecting.

We stare at one another in silence before he closes the small gap between us and rests his brow against mine, the water pouring down on both of us before he inhales deeply.

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