Page 152 of The Obsession
His head comes up fast, and his mouth opens—like he’s about to speak, or maybe shout—but he doesn’t get the chance. There’s nothing left to say. I’ve waited too long for this. Nothing will save this man now.
My hand fists a chunk of his hair as I push his face under water. His legs and arms thrash simultaneously, but I leave his head submerged for a good minute before I tug it back up. He chokes and gasps for air, but if he thinks this isthe end of it, he’s wrong. I’m merely prolonging the inevitable.
I do this another four times before his body begins to lose all its fight. I wonder how long it took him to drown my mother before all the life left her body.
I want to hurt him so bad, but I don’t want to leave a mark. I want whoever finds him to think he drowned, or that his black soulless heart finally gave out.
The next time I raise his head above the surface, I lean in closer. “She loved you, you fucking gutless cunt. She gave up everything for a life with you, and you tore it all away.”
When he tries to reply, I push him back under. I don’t want or need to hear his excuses.
The next time I drag his head up, it’ll be for the final time. I’ve done what I came here to do. “Burn in hell, motherfucker.”
I push him back under, and even after his body has gone completely limp, I don’t let go. I need to know he’s truly gone.
By the time I climb out of the pool, he’s floating face down on the surface. I’m drenched. My boots are soaked through, sloshing with every step as I cross the pavers and disappear out of sight, heading back toward the car.
My job here is done. I’ve finally avenged my mother’s death, and now it’s time to let the past go. I feel lighter … freer, and I’m going to make it my mission to move forward with my wife by my side, Lil’ Peach, and our new baby once he’s born.
When you truly let go of the past, it loosens its hold on you. The demons I’ve been clinging onto for years just died right alongside my old man. Nothing is holding me back now.
Tomorrow, I get to turn the page, and the next chapter is ours to write.
Chapter 53
Epilogue
Ilean against the doorframe while Emily sits on the edge of the tub, carefully doing Lil’ Peach’s hair. She gathers her dark curls into two neat pigtails, one on each side of her head and adds tiny white bows. My gut churns.
She’s getting ready for her first day of school, looking way too grown up in her uniform—a blue-and-white tartan dress, white socks, and shiny black shoes with silver buckles at the sides. I swear, I can’t fucking deal with this shit.
I knew this day was coming, but no amount of mental preparation could soften the ache that hits watching her step into this whole new chapter so fearlessly.
Peach side-eyes me from where she stands, a sweet smile curving across her face. “I’m a big girl, D,” she says proudly.
I clear my throat before answering. “Yeah, kid. Yeah, you are.”
Emily’s sympathetic glance is enough to send me retreating from the bathroom. She knows I’m barely holding it together, and we haven’t even made it to the school yet. I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to walk away and leave my baby girl there in the hands of complete strangers.
I head into our bedroom straight for the bassinet beside our bed. Elio was born two and a half months ago, and I’ve aced fatherhood a second time round. But even as I look down at my sleeping son, the usual warmth I feel doesn’t quite land the way it should today. In a few years, I’m going to have to go through this bullshit with him as well.
His name means ‘sun’ in Italian, and it suits him because he’s already managed to light up every corner of our lives. Lil’ Peach adores her baby brother, and for reasons only she understands, she insists on calling him Teddy.
Our son is cradled in my arms as I follow Emily and Peach through the front gates of the Catholic school she’ll be attending, six hours a day, five days a week, for the foreseeable future.
This is the same school Dante and Romeo attended when they were kids, and the place their children will go when they’re old enough.
My eyes flicker down to Peach, and that churning feeling returns, twisting low in my gut. My stubborn girl insisted on carrying her own backpack when we exited the car, even though it’s almost half her size. She looks so small, and although she seems ready for today, I’m not. Not even close.
The girls make their way across the quadrangle, heading towards Peach’s classroom. I have no idea where it is, because when Peach had her orientation day, I had my wife bring her. I was struggling even then, but Emily insisted I be here for today.
I was planning to regardless, because I need to meet her teacher and make it very clear that he’ll be the person I come after if anything happens to her.
At first, I wasn’t happy that her teacher was a man, but it’ll work in my favour, because I can’t exactly intimidate a woman.
Emily pauses as we approach the classroom and glances over her shoulder. “Do you really need that face, Dominic?” she asks.
“What face?” I retort, pinching my eyebrows together.
