Page 67 of Payback
“Um…” I needed a moment to collect myself. “Go get me a drink. A real drink.”
I pushed away the glass of water in front of me, and Alison shrugged before walking away. She knew what would happen if she tried to escape, so I wasn’t concerned about that. I needed some time alone to collect myself. Those dreadful memories often haunted me in my dreams, which was why sleep was a rare luxury for me. No one truly knew the extent of my father’s cruelty, except Vince. He had overheard my whispered words and immediately recognized their meaning. I knew little about his story. He had revealed just enough to entice me into his world, and I had eagerly embraced the offer. Anything was better than enduring the beatings and rape. I understood that Alison wasn’t responsible for my father’s actions. She didn’t force him to do what he did, but sometimes attributing even that blame to her helped me cope. It gave me something to hold onto as I endured it all. Yet, I also understood that had she known the truth, she wouldn’t have come to my rescue. No one cared about me, and I knew how they viewed my father. In many people’s eyes, I was destined to become him, but I was determined never to follow that path.
While living with Vince, I had once imagined returning home to make my father pay. Sadly, his self-destructive lifestyle robbed me of that chance. He succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver, and the possibility of a transplant was out of the question due to his alcoholism. The only consolation was knowing he died alone. I refused to arrange a funeral and didn’t claim his body. I vanished years ago, and I had become someone they couldn’t trace. I didn’t know the specifics of his demise, only that he was gone. Still, there lingered an unsettling sense of unfinished business. I never had the opportunity to reveal the person I had become, to become his worst nightmare, much like I had become the nightmare for every other evil person in my life. The bastard escaped too easily, but there was no way to alter that now. At least one positive aspect remained in my life. I still held Alison under my control, and she had inflicted nearly as much harm on me. Finding satisfaction in tormenting her seemed sufficient. As I gradually regained my composure, Alison returned, holding a glass in her hand. Yet, she had brought along an entire bottle, placing it beside me after handing me my drink.
“I said get me a drink, not get me drunk,” I admonished her.
“Judging by your expression, it seems like you could use it.”
I glanced at her, raising a confused eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“It appears that you might need it. You’ve gone pale,” she remarked. “It often soothed my mother.”
The little comment she added at the end of her sentence came with a chuckle, yet her tone carried a hint of sadness. Alison noticed me gazing up at her, then let out a sigh, picking up the bottle again.
“Sorry for assuming, Master,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her tone.
As she turned to leave, I reached out and placed an arm around her waist, resting my hand on her hip. Gently, I turned her to face me, and she looked perplexed.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“I said sorry for—”
“No, before that. About your mother.”
She appeared puzzled, but then shrugged. “It’s not much of a secret, and considering the information you have about me, you probably know my mother doesn’t mind a drink or two.”
“A drink or two,” I sighed. I had briefly entertained the thought that her mother might share a similarity with my father, but I was mistaken. I looked away slowly, lowering my hand.
“For breakfast,” she continued, causing me to turn my gaze back to her.
“Lunch and dinner were often accompanied by stronger beverages, and the consumption increased with her stress levels. And she didn’t need much to get stressed. Were you unaware of this?”
“I wanted to destroy you. Your mother wasn’t on my radar,” I retorted.
“Of course...”
“How often?” I asked, as she attempted to walk away.
“Every day.”
I glanced over my shoulder, finding Alison still facing me.
“Did it make her aggressive or submissive?”
“It depended on which number she was on,” Alison informed me.
I nodded slightly, but as I didn’t offer any further response, she walked away once more, and I shifted in my seat. I was well-versed in Alison’s parents’ lives—knowing their professions, social circles, hobbies, and even their birthdates. Yet, her mother’s love for drinking had eluded me. Whenever I had witnessed Alison interacting with her parents, everything seemed picture-perfect. Beneath Alison’s exterior, I recognized the darkness. There was little good to be found there. However, witnessing her seemingly ideal family life didn’t just spark jealousy, which was a common reaction toward families. Instead, it ignited an intense fury within me. Not only did Alison have the power to torment me, but she also had the privilege of returning to a harmonious home where parents greeted her with open arms and affection. She possessed everything, while I had nothing. And yet, now, I found myself realizing my own foolishness. Alison masterfully deceived everyone around her into believing that her life was flawless, that no fractures existed in her façade of a marriage. As I gradually unraveled the truth about her marital relationship, I was still blind to the details of her past. I had been deceived by the image her parents projected, and this realization hit me like a shockwave. Alison must have learned her manipulative ways from somewhere, yet I had failed to perceive it. I hadn’t seen past the façade, beyond the staged smiles and gestures of affection in the photographs. Her mother’s struggles with alcoholism—a poison that could often turn people vicious—had eluded my awareness. What other truths had I overlooked?
Chapter 35
-Alison-
Jared soon grew hungry for lunch. My hands trembled a bit, recalling the meal I had cooked for him—the one he had complained about and nearly made me choke on. Even though a few meals had passed since that incident, I still felt apprehensive about preparing his food. I dreaded a repeat of the event that had ended with me being thrown out onto the street naked. However, the air around Jared was different now, lacking the intimidating aura he had carried when he shoved the food in my face. Something peculiar seemed to be happening to him. He had been sipping his drink for quite some time, sticking to the first glass without moving on to a second. He wasn’t watching me cook. His focus was on the liquid in his glass, swirling it around contemplatively. He remained eerily quiet—no playful games or teasing remarks. He sat there, fixated on the alcohol in his hand, waiting as I prepared his meal. When I was finished, I arranged the food on a plate and provided him with a fork and knife. However, to my surprise, he didn’t start eating right away. He continued to gaze at his glass, taking small sips, lowering it, and then turning it absently. I tried to catch his eye, thinking he might be lost in his thoughts, but he wasn’t focused on me.
“Master?” I called out.
