Page 32 of Til Def
When we reach the other side, I climb out first, extending a hand to pull her through. Her gaze darts around, taking in the empty corners of this house in the morning light. I know every creak of these old floors, every shadow, but I refuse to let myself take in the memories that lie within the walls. She trails behind me, Midnight padding in her quiet, unbothered way until I open a bathroom door and tug Raven inside.
I unzip my bag, pulling out one of my oversized hoodies, and hand it to her. She takes it, brows knitting in confusion as I study her. She hesitates, but finally slips it on, the fabric swallowing her frame until it drowns out her perfect curves.
“Sit down there,” I order, pointing to the radiator bolted to the wall and her wide eyes snap up to mine, flashing with something between defiance and fear.
“Now, Raven.” My tone hardens and she swallows, glancing down, then slowly moves toward the radiator and sits, pressing herself back until the cold iron is against her spine. I crouch and reach into my bag again, pulling out the cuffs and her eyes expand as she realizes what’s happening, shaking her head frantically.
“No, Ty!” she pleads, panic rising in her voice, but I ignore her, clamping the cuff onto her wrist with a determined click, locking her to the radiator.
“I’ll be back. I’ve got some things to do.”
“You can’t just leave me here!” she snaps, her scowl deepening.
“Yes, I fucking can—and I will.” I lean in close, my face inches from hers. “And you can scream all you want, beautiful girl, but no one will hear you. Not here.”
I place a bottle of water down, keeping my gaze locked on her. “Toilet’s right there. Water. What more do you fucking need?”
She glares at me, her voice slipping from desperate to something more angry. “For you to let me go, maybe? You can’t keep this up!”
“Can’t I?” I reply coolly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re already with me, Raven.”
“I need to go to work in two days.. I need to…”
“I told you, you’re not going back to that fucking asylum, Kitten.” I growl. “You will NEVER be reaching that top floor. It’s fucking dangerous!”
Her bottom lip quivers, “You keep treating me like some fucking fragile little thing! You don’t know me at all!” She screams in my face.
I lean in close to her face, my teeth biting, “You’re my fragile little thing. You want insanity? To be surrounded by the darkness? You’ve got it. Right here, with me. Get the fuck used to it!”
Tears well up in her pretty blue eyes, and for a second, she looks so small after everything I’ve put her through. I reach out to her face almost instinctively, but she flinches back, pressing into the cold radiator as if it could protect her from me.
“Just go,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I watch her, studying the fear, the resentment, and the realization setting into her face. There’s no remorse in me, no moment of second thoughts. Her feelings are fucking irrelevant, just collateral damage in a game I’ve always played for my own twisted satisfaction. She’s exactly where I want her—at my mercy, with nothing but me and the walls that hold her.
I slowly stand upright, turn and walk toward the door, closing it behind me.
…
After striding through the woods that surround the mansion, smoking a cigarette, I find myself in the graveyard. I trail over the overgrowth, weaving between tombstones, my eyes set on one in the distance. As I draw nearer, my palms begin to sweat inside my gloves, my heart beating a faster.
When I’m close enough, I step in front of it, my eyes glued to the grave. I crouch, my hand reaching out, swiping the moss that’s covered both of their names, the stone old and neglected.
Here lies Finn and Olivia Easton.. Loving Father and Mo…
I growl and shift my eyes before I lose my shit.
“Loving.” I scoff, then lift my cigarette, stubbing it out over the “loving” part, the embers blowing in the mild breeze.
This is the first time I’ve come to their grave. I always knew it was here, tucked away in this shithole, forgotten. They apparently wanted to be buried in the small town they grew up in—the town that shaped them, twisted them into what they were.
I lift my head, taking in the gloomy surroundings. Thick trees loom over the graveyard, their bare branches clawing at the gray sky. The air is damp, the kind that clings to your skin and seeps into your bones. It’s a fitting place for them—silent, bleak, lifeless.
“You’re all cozy where you wanted to be put, but what about her? Where was she put?” I murmur the question like I might get an answer, my eyes slowly returning to their head stone. “All you had to do was tell me… Tell me the fucking truth for once in you goddamn lives. Now look. You can’t even fucking speak. Feel. You were killed by your own kid.”
A dark chuckle escapes, hollow, humorless while I shake my head. “You both ended up right where you belong. In hell. And I’ll meet you there soon enough, I’m sure.”
Memories fromthat morningflicker through my head, vivid and haunting. The last time I saw them. I’ve never spoken a word about it—not to anyone. Yet it’s the clearest thing lodged in the shadows of my mind, a scar I’ve buried but never let heal. The truth of what happened. Why I did what I did, why I was pushed to the point of no return. No one would ever understand. They’d look at me with blank eyes, dismissing it, branding me a fucking liar. Even if they did believe me, they’d turn away, shielding themselves from the truth that’s too dark for confront.
