Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I found my hands already at the edge of my shirt, tightening around the material, as if I needed something to stabilize me. An anchor to keep me in this world.
The blood rushed through my ears, my pulse pounded in the base of my neck, and I couldn’t look away from Michael even if a gun had been pointed to my head.
“This whole time I thought Hades was this horrible person. In reality, you created who and what he is. You and my father. You’re the actual monsters.”
Michael sounded like he was really having trouble breathing. And the heart monitor he was hooked up to beeped frantically as the rate increased.
Even if he could speak, I wouldn’t have wanted to hear a word that came from his vile mouth.
I looked at the small bedside table that held medication bottles, syringes, and other medical paraphernalia. But that wasn’t what had my heart skipping a beat or my stomach feeling like a rock was lodged in it.
It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the side of the head all over again. The room spun, and I reached out, gripping the banister of the bed.
Sitting there—the small sliver of daylight forcing its way through a part in the curtain and showing the shiny tri-colored wood—was my father’s box. My knees buckled as I took a step toward it.
I moved forward until I stood right in front of the box and could reach down and pick it up. I held it in my hands. It was so heavy, heavier than I remembered. But for the weight in my palms, it seemed so much smaller now.
I closed my eyes as I pictured my father touching this very thing. But I didn’t feel happiness or love anymore. I felt this acidic bile rise in my throat.
The man I’d loved—the one who wrapped me up in a cobalt wool blanket because it helped me sleep at night during storms—wasn’t the man I looked up to.
He was a monster who beat his younger brother until his little body had been riddled with scars. He’d taken away Hades’ innocence, and in its place created something else.
I squeezed my fingers tightly around the wood, this urge to tear it apart, to break it into a hundred different pieces running so strong in me I almost threw it against the wall.
My muscles tensed, my body ready to do just that. But I breathed out slowly and looked down at it, tracing the lock that was unlatched. It had always been locked.
My grandfather wheezed again, but all I could picture was him hitting Hades repeatedly, scarring Hades until he’d never be the same.
“I hate you,” I whispered. “I hate my father.” Tears fell in rivers down my cheeks, blurring my vision. “You both should wear the scars, not Hades.”
I didn’t realize I’d let the box fall from my grasp until I heard it hit the ground, and felt the pictures scatter around my feet.
My heart jumped into my throat as I stared down at what was a literal nightmare staring right back at me. With a shaky hand, I reached down and picked up several of them, my body breaking out in a cold sweat.
God. The air left me violently as I looked at picture after picture of Hades beaten, bloody, and… so young. A teenager who had dead, swollen and bruised eyes as he stared at the camera. And the men who alternated in each one posing with the man I loved… my father and grandfather.
They were grinning as they held him up by his hair, or crouched where he lay crumbled on the bloody ground. When the last picture fell from my hand, fluttering to the ground, I felt like I was having an out of body experience.
It was like they were hunters who’d just captured their prey, slaughtered it, and felt the sick need to pose with the corpse.
“Hades,” I choked out.
I didn’t know when or how I’d reached over and grabbed the spare pillow. And I didn’t see myself lifting it and holding it above Michael.
I watched his eyes widen, his mouth moving wordlessly, and the sound of the heart monitor going crazy.
And then I was blinking rapidly, seeing myself pushing all my weight on the pillow right over Michael’s face.
His body was lifeless beneath me, but still I couldn’t move.
My face was wet, a steady stream of tears cascading down my cheeks. I kept hearing one word in my head, or maybe I was screaming it.
Why? Why? Why?
And then someone gently gripped my upper arms, pulling me back. They took the pillow from me, tossed it aside, and turned me around before pulling me into the hardness of a very male chest.
I inhaled deeply, smelling the unique scent that was all Hades. Dark and spicy and comforting. I cried harder.