Page 76 of Ricochet
What was stopping me?
I pressed the shard into my skin, the other end biting into my hand. I wondered how much I would bleed. I hoped my brother would be the one to find me, and not my mother or my sister.
There was a small sting as I pressed harder into my skin, but it wasn’t taking away the pain from my head. I could still hear everything in there. I could still feel the water pulling me under.
Drowning.
Choking.
Screaming.
I stopped for a moment. Should I write a letter? Should I maybe explain why I did what I did? Maybe I could write one letter to my family and the second one to Ophelia?
No, no, no.
There was no stopping now.
The clear reflection of the glass started getting red, as my skin finally broke and the weirdest sensation came over me. I felt free.
My cheeks were getting wet, and I realized I was crying. But I wasn’t scared. This was the first time in many years that I didn’t feel any fear. I felt absolutely nothing.
I started moving my hand, the shard cutting deeper into my skin, the blood slowly pouring out. Yes, this is it. This was the euphoria I needed.
This was…
My movements were halted with the loud banging coming from the front door. No, no, no, they couldn’t stop me now. I was finally going to be free.
I started gliding the glass over my skin, as the voice I never wanted to hear again echoed through the apartment.
“Kieran!” There was more banging on the door. “Open the door, Son. I know you’re in there.”
My father. The bane of my existence. He wanted to stop me. He wanted to destroy what was left of my humanity.
“Open this fucking door, Kieran!”
I kept sitting on the floor, not even moving a muscle. But maybe I should, get up that is. I could get rid of him and get back to this.
Yeah, that’s right. I could do that.
I picked myself up, throwing the used shard below the sofa, and rolled down the sleeve. Blood seeped into the dark material, and I hoped he wouldn’t be able to see it. Not that he would ever care.
Trudging across the room toward the hallway and the door, I started tucking my shirt in my pants, and ran my hands through my hair. I had no doubt my father would have something to say about my physical state, but he could fuck off into the depths of hell for all I cared right now, because all of this would soon be over.
Soon I won’t have to ever see him again or hear his ridiculous demands. I would finally be free.
I opened the door, my eyes clashing with the same dark ones. The ones I kept seeing in the mirror every day. I was the carbon copy of daddy dearest, and I wondered when he became such a ruthless man. When did he stop caring for his family, and start thinking only about his own personal gain?
Disapproval.
Anger.
Of course, those were the only emotions visible on his face. This was the man who never showed compassion, never cared about what we really wanted. He never once asked me if I was okay with everything that was going on, never stopped to see how all of this was destroying Cillian. How scared Tristan was, and how much damage we were causing to Ava.
No, the only person he ever cared for was himself. I sometimes thought he had so many kids just to make sure there would be somebody left to continue the Nightingale bloodlines. You know, in case the other ones ended up dead, which was highly possible.
Well, don’t worry, daddy dearest. I was about to fulfill your wishes.
“You look like shit,” he sneered, but his behavior wasn’t anything new. I couldn’t remember the last time he praised me for anything I did.
