Page 85 of Sing For Us

Their banter was exactly what we needed to break the ice. Our shoulders relax collectively, and Hana brings out her laptop. Oliver returns with a tray filled with coffee cups and sits between Josh and Hana. He hands everyone a cup, and we all take a sip.

We start by rehashing what has happened over the past few weeks. Lana and Hana talk about that fateful night in great detail.

“You are a hundred percent sure it was Dario?” Lana asks Hana, and my cousin nods. Even the slightest mention of my father makes me angry as hell. He is the sole reason why I’m so fucked up.

“Maybe Noa should explain why.” All eyes turn to me as Hana says that. I sigh because I knew this was coming.

I bow my head and squeeze the inside of my hand. I know that she meant well, and she’s right; if anyone knows how Dario works, it’d be me. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with explaining how much of a monster he actually is.

A psychopath.

Yes, I believe my own father is a psychopath.

Maybe Lana and Sara can help me with that.

“You’ll never be strong like me. You’ll be weak like your mother.”

“Noa?” A soft hand touches my arm, and I see it’s Lana. The concern in her eyes is evident, and I hate that I’m being seen like I’d need comfort. When I look around, my team is watching the interaction between my ex and me.

My refusal to yank away my arm will probably get them thinking I probably still love her.

No time to ponder on that.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. So, Dario.” I take a deep breath and start talking. “Dario is the worst kind of man you’ll ever meet. And I hope none of you will.”

Silence and dread fill the room.

“He is the head of the Vicious Vipers, as you all know, and he came to the top because my grandfather died. During my time as the top assassin of the Vicious Vipers, he’d always send me on the most dangerous missions. While I’m not disgusted by blood, he would be downright evil.”

“How?” Lana asks me as she sets down her cup of coffee.

“He stopped doing hits personally a long time ago because he got his kicks out of torturing people from a distance. He did that by, for example, ordering everyone to start using bombs with a floral scent once it detonates.”

“Why?” Before I can respond to Lana’s question, Josh inches forward and claps his hands. I turn my attention towards him. He’s looking at my ex like she just grew three heads.

“Should there be a reason? He’s sick in the head.”

“That’s an oversimplification.” Lana counters, and my friend sits back and is listening to her. She looks at me, and I’m slightly nodding my head in agreement. Her attention is back on Josh.

“A man who is obsessed with control, like Dario, doesn’t usually choose to do something symbolic at random. There’s a reason why every detail is studied when it comes to people like that. Every recurring detail becomes part of the message. A floral scent after an explosion..." She frowns. "That's not just theatrics. It's psychological.”

“Psychological how?” Josh asks. I’m in awe of how well they are interacting, and scared shitless. Not because they might attack each other, no, the reason is Lana is coming closer to the truth. And the next thing she says proves how good she is.

“To be clear, I’m just speculating right now why Dario did this. But I think it’s because of how memorable it is. Flowers are associated with beauty and poise, and eventually someone can't smell flowers without remembering the violence. That's how you colonize someone's mind. You take something so beautiful, and turn it into a weapon. You make that person’s pain belong to you.”

Adam whistles out of frustration and looks at me. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“It’s true.” I don’t waste time affirming what Lana just explained. There is a reason why Dario chose florals, and my friends don’t know what it is.

My team is my whole world, yet I didn’t tell them everything about Dario. The world is cruel, and there’s him. What he did to stay at the top and not let anyone influence him would make the devil weep. The moral balance of the world is constantly in jeopardy because he still walks among us. He always tipped the scales in his direction, no matter the cost. No matter who he hurt. The moment I was out of diapers and started talking, he became psychologically abusive. Later on, he became physically abusive as well.

He started drilling into me that if I wanted to succeed in the world, I should be hard and not let any emotion ruin me. If I listened to him and let myself fall under his control completely, I wouldn’t be sitting with my friends right now. I’d probably be in a ditch or right by his side. My mama is the one I’m thanking every single day for not letting that happen.

At the ripe age of eight, I was biking on the property, and I fell. Hard. I limped back to the house, and I was crying. My knee was bleeding, and I was in excruciating pain. My father took one look at me and slapped me hard across the face. He yelled in my face that men don’t cry, only girls do. While he was berating me, my mama came into the living room and took me. She didn’t look at Dario and took me to the hospital. Turns out that my leg was badly sprained, luckily not broken. Mama was so mad at my father that she didn’t talk to him for three weeks.

Which he didn’t mind. He never did.

I was only useful to him when I was training and or doing hits.