Page 228 of Tempting Venom
It’s late at night and I just lit his favorite car on fire right after I came back from Dr. Duret’s depressingly empty house.
It was a vintage Bentley he paid a fortune for and imported from somewhere in the Middle East.
Dad saw his money, effort, and love for that car that he only takes on a spin once or twice a year burn right before his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, just went back to his cave—sorry, the study.
He didn’t even send Lenin to get me.
Can you fucking believe it?The tragic absence of Lenin confirms the theory I’ve had for several weeks now.
Dad doesn’t punish me anymore, because any sliver of care he had for me is gone.
So now, I’m standing in the rain, right across from the garage’s entrance as the staff puts out the fire.
Waiting.
For what, I don’t know.
Actually, I do know. I’m waiting for Jude to come to his senses, as he’s also losing his grip on reality after learning some disturbing truths.
And because of that, he’s pushed away the only light in his life—Violet. I feel a sort of camaraderie with her, you know. She has this sad look in her eyes that reminds me of that seven-year-old version of me. A sadness that I couldn’t shake off, no matter what I did.
She’d also be a perfect member of the Mommy Issues Club that Vi, Jude, and I should form.
Anyway, Jude’s being a dick, pushing everyone, including Violet, away, and it’s no bueno.
If both of us spiral, who’s going to keep me from accidentally killing myself?
I’m waiting for Dr. Duret to come back, for Lenin to show up.
But mostly, I’m waiting for Marcus to text me back.
I pull out my phone, staring at it as the rain blurs the screen. And nope, no new texts. All I can see is the conversation we had after I left.
Marcus
Are you okay? Just tell me you are, and I’ll leave you alone.
Yes, I have him saved as his name now, I guess.
And no, I didn’t reply to that text, because what the hell would I say when I was creeped out with myself for hurting him?
The way he was asking about me made my guilty feelings a hundred times worse.
And I might have considered free-falling to my death from the roof of my house. Happened before, only, I didn’t die, so I thought the second time would be a winner, right?
Marcus, being Marcus, texted again the next day.
Marcus
I made tacos. Are you coming tonight?
Me
No.
Why not?
Because we don’t need to meet every day.
