17

17

STACEY

The first time I walked into Fields manor, a large pink suitcase trailing behind me, I was excited for a new start.

My mother was dead, and Dad had met a woman named Nora, with two sons who couldn’t wait to have me live with them.

Kyle, my new twenty-two-year-old brother, had walked me to my room, helped me decorate it the way I wanted and started driving me to my dance classes. We always got fast food on the way home, and he made sure I always had the newest technology. He bought me an aerial hoop to put in their basement, but Nora refused to let him drill into the ceiling.

He was the good big brother. One I always wanted.

Chris was the worst.

When he first laid eyes on me, he shook my hand, squeezed it too hard, then let his eyes drop, lingering on my flat chest.

We were halfway through lunch when I realised he’d been staring at me the entire time. He kept kicking my foot, pressing his thigh up against mine, and when we got home, he walked me to my room and asked if I needed help out of my dress.

I remember the revulsion I felt as I told him to get out, and it was at that moment I realised who I lived with.

He barged into my shower that night. Ordered me to strip while he dealt with himself, watching, staring, forcing me to wash my body and hair.

I was innocent and young, yet he made me feel dirty without even touching me. He put thoughts in my head that shouldn’t have been there at that age. Praying wasn’t something I ever did, but at night, when he would sneak into my room, I’d pray that he died.

I’d pray for him to meet his end.

I needed someone to help me. Someone to listen.

My dad was all I had, and he didn’t believe me, so I had nothing. Nora became his number one, and Kyle just thought Chris was obsessed with having a little sister. Why would he believe me when my own father wouldn’t?

I knew he would eventually go too far.

From the age of fourteen, I waited in fear every single fucking day for that monster to land his hardest blow. And when I turned nineteen, he did it twice in the same month.

He killed my unborn child then drugged me, raped me, and destroyed the only good thing I had left in life.

After Kade moved away and my dad passed, the violence got worse. I have a scar between my breasts from him dragging a key down my chest to deter others from touching what he thought was his, and multiple mental bruises from the memories of fists flying at me – always in places others wouldn’t see.

Let’s not forget the time we went on a family holiday and he held my head underwater until I nearly passed out, only to then “save me” from drowning to look like a good big brother.

The look my dad gave me when I told him about Chris still haunts me – a look that said, You really want me to believe he sexually assaults you?

Chris was sick. Deluded. Monstrous. Brutal. The thorn I couldn’t remove from my side.

I was terrified of him.

Now I’m staring at the piece of shit while Aria stands back, her hands covered in blood from trying to stop the bleeding.

She managed to stitch some of his wounds using what she could find in the lodge, but then again, she’s a scientist not a medical doctor.

It’s no use. The evidence of Kade’s rage is all over the room. A severed foot, slashes everywhere and an evident stab wound to the groin. My own stab wounds are in his thighs, still leaking dark blood.

“He’s lost too much blood,” Aria says, wiping her hands on a cloth. “I’m not sure how he’s still alive. But he won’t be for long.”

She’s ghostly pale as she watches me, her tired eyes flickering to Chris.

She’s seen death. Tobias made sure of that.

He might well be insane, but at least he’s on our side.

So much trauma in our lives, yet we’re still here, fighting.

Aria’s hands shake as she rests one on my shoulder, squeezing. “Luciella will be home tomorrow, and I think when she is, we should all go home. Barry can put on extra security around the manor. We… we’ll figure out what to do for Tobias. Kade needs to be home.”

I chew my lip. “Bernadette will come for him.”

“She’s busy dealing with the media frenzy and the death of her daughter.”

True. Within hours of Kade putting a bullet in her head, Cassie’s picture has started circulating news channels and social media. The Sawyers are grieving a terrible loss, the reports say.

In the nicest way possible, the girl is better off dead.

And as much as the idea of Chris being kept alive and forced to suffer as Kade described is tempting, I meant what I said to Jason. I want him gone. Knowing he isn’t walking the same world as me would make me far more comfortable.

I pat Aria’s hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I say. “For all of this. If I’d told Kade about Chris when we were together, then we wouldn’t be standing in puddles of my stepbrother’s mess.” I gulp and lower my head. “Maybe our kid would be here too.”

“You can’t blame yourself for any of this, Stacey. He’s the monster. He’s the one who took from you. And, therefore, he’s the one at fault. Survivors deal with abuse differently, and not everyone can speak up. I don’t want to hear that from you again.”

“After my dad didn’t believe that Chris was abusing me, I didn’t feel like I could speak to anyone. I thought he would target Kade. I wanted to keep him safe,” I admit, wetting my lips, remembering how innocent and full of life Kade was when we were eighteen. “I fell in love with him so fast, and the thought of Chris ruining that made me stay silent.”

I know Chris, in his slowly dying body, can hear me.

“Chris wanted me to love him, but it was always Kade.”

The corner of Aria’s mouth curls slightly with a look of exhaustion, the lines at the side of her eyes tightening. “I know, sweetheart.”

I slowly turn, walking towards Chris. “Can you give me a minute?” I ask her, and she smiles with a nod and walks up the stairs, leaving me alone with my stepbrother.

I kick the chair he’s strapped to, but he doesn’t budge. “Kade didn’t touch your ears, so I assume you can hear me.”

Nothing, not even a twitch.

I kick the chair again as I circle him, and he lets out a low, pained groan.

“Do you remember my twentieth birthday?” I walk around the chair, not caring that my shoes are getting covered in sticky blood. “When your mum went to Italy, and Kyle was away at college, and you forced me to wear a short dress and dance for you?”

He doesn’t reply. Not that he’s strong enough to do so.

“You invited two of your friends to watch me too. Do you remember what you did when I refused to have sex with all three of you?”

My anger is spiking. I can feel blood roaring in my ears as I circle the chair once more. I snatch his hair and pull his head back.

“You made me swallow pills, nearly broke my jaw, and I woke up in your bed hours later. You said you didn’t touch me, but did they?”

I have so many memories that are broken from him drugging me, and now that I know he raped me multiple times, I’m trying to figure out when. I blacked out more times than I can count.

For some reason, before I saw the video of him sliding inside me, I believed he hadn’t touched me. I thought he would’ve boasted about it; yelled in my face, but he kept it to himself.

“Or the time we went on the cruise and Kyle had to shove his fingers down my throat when he found me nearly drowning naked in the pool? I had bite marks on my inner thighs, remember?”

Thankfully, Kyle didn’t see much, since he’d launched a towel over my body. My dad had been dead three months, so they decided me getting wasted was my way of dealing with his death.

The more I think, the angrier I get.

My foot hits metal, and I pick up the blade Kade dropped after mutilating him. I twist it in my hand, the point of the knife against the pad of my pointer finger as I keep walking around him, reeling off all the times he screwed with me.

The pain he caused me.

Mentally fucking me.

Physically too.

He was never brave enough to do it without me being drugged. I would have fought until my dying breath if I’d been conscious.

“You should know, you look hideous right now. And I think death is far too kind for you. You should suffer. You should see what my life is going to be like without you. But you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as my future children.”

The door at the top of the steps opens, and Tobias walks down, his eyes trained on me. I stop behind Chris, watching as Barry walks down too.

“Kade’s asleep again,” Tobias says, his lip cut at the corner. I know his son didn’t mean to hurt him. “We were coming to take his body away. Is he still alive?”

“For now,” I say blankly, turning back to Chris, seeing every single thing he ever did to me.

I see myself. Innocent. Quiet. The teenager who fell in love – happy with her boyfriend. She doesn’t have bruises or fears or monsters under her bed. I see Chris smiling down at me when he told me my dad was dead. Sudden. Unexplained. Out of the blue.

I see a blue-eyed little girl with dark hair and a smile that could’ve lit up the world, a giggle that would’ve made the stars shine brighter and a future that was ripped away from her before she reached a single milestone.

I see Kade holding her hand while she wears the princess dress he bought her when I was pregnant.

And as my mind messes with me some more, I hear my daughter screaming as Chris grabs her. She’s crying for me, for her daddy. Until her sobs are cut off, and darkness falls.

Everything quietens in my head. There’s a dull throb in my ears as I stare at him.

The blade is in my grasp, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything but loss.

Little princess, this is for you.

My eyes well as I tip his chin up with the blade, making the hammered-in nails he now has for eyes look up at me, his eyelids unable to close. His throat bobs slowly, tears of crimson sliding down his cheeks.

His lips try to move, but nothing comes out.

Maybe because his jaw is crushed.

With bared teeth, I shake my head. “You don’t get to speak now. You’ve done enough damage.” My voice is shaky as I say the words, grabbing his hair to hold his head back, readjusting the blade to press the point to his throat.

Tobias and Barry don’t say anything, but I can feel them in the room with me. Two men who are like family.

They’re here and I’m not alone. Not anymore.

“I want you to know that it’ll be me who kills you. Kade might have caused you all the pain you deserved, but it will be me who ends your life.” I harshly slice to the right, the sharp edge of the blade cutting through skin, flesh and muscle. Blood hits my face, mixing with my tears. “I hate you, Chris. And if by some miracle you make it to heaven, I hope my mother kicks your ass. If not…” I lean forward to whisper in his ear as the gurgling stops. “I’ll see you in hell.”

I stand up and let go of the blade. It clatters to the ground, my jaw trembling, as I watch Chris’s head drop, even more blood puddling beneath the chair he’s tied to.

For the longest moment, I stand in silence, waiting for the relief to set in, the weight on my shoulders and chest to vanish, the sickness in my stomach to go away, the breath that makes me feel at ease.

It doesn’t come. None of it does.

Everything he caused is still there.

Tobias walks up beside me and throws his arm across my shoulders. “Come on. You need a shower and a good sleep. We’ll clean up here. He can’t get you anymore, little one.”

Barry looks around the room. “This is going to be horrible to clean up.”

“What can I say? My son is an artist.”

We all grimace.

Tobias leans down and picks up the severed foot. “Think fast,” he says as he throws it at Barry’s face.

He catches it automatically, then jumps back and drops it on the ground. “What the shit?”

I bite my lip as Tobias winks at me, and I know he was just trying to cheer me up.

He’s so goofy sometimes. Aria said he was never like this before, but after years and years of therapy and meds and other resources, he found himself.

It’s his way of coping with all the change, I guess.

Apparently, this is what Tobias is like without that darkness having taken hold. But it’s there. Looming. Waiting to claim him once more.

The door opens, and I spin around to see Kyle slowly walking down the stairs. He stops when he sees me, his eyes sliding to the chair in the middle of the basement and Chris’s slit throat.

Before he can speak, I step forward. “I was fourteen, Kyle. Fourteen and terrified. If you understood how much he made my life hell and took everything from me…” I cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “I had to. I had to kill him. I had to end it.”

I have no idea why panic is suddenly wrapping around my heart like a fist, but I care about Kyle. He was always the good brother. And I’ve just killed his real, blood-related sibling.

Kyle narrows his brows as if his response is obvious. “I know you had to. I’m not mad at you. I just… wish he didn’t turn out the way he did.”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He looks confused for a second, glancing between us all. “My little brother abused you for years. Why would I hate you for dealing with him?”

“Because he was yourbrother,” I say, my bottom lip wobbling. “And he’s dead. You didn’t want him dead.”

“Of course I didn’t. But look at the damage he’s caused. I loved Chris but not what he turned into. He wasn’t the kid I taught to ride a bike or helped with his homework because our dad was a lazy wanker. I taught him everything, and I tried to make sure he grew up to be good, not this…” He gestures to the body. “He turned out a lot like our dad.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Was your dad a rapist, murderer and an abusive asshole?” He steps forward. “Did your dad groom a fourteen-year-old girl?”

Kyle shakes his head, turning white. “No. But he did beat us.”

He tuts and tilts his head. “No comparison, kid.”

I stare at Chris again then back at his brother. “Chris made his own bed; he can die in it.” I walk past him on the steps. “I’m going to see Kade.” I stop halfway. “You should go home. Nora will be worried. They’ll dispose of the body.”

“What about you?” he asks. “You aren’t coming with me? You’re my sister. The Fields manor is your home.”

“I’m where I belong. You’ll always be my brother, and I love you, but I never want to set foot in that house again.”

Before I can reach the top, he says, “Wait. I can’t take him?”

“Ask Barry,” I say, opening the door. “I’m done.”