and I dislike that even more. I don’t like the stained blood on her knees or the gash I created on her head. I don’t like the hollow look in her eyes as she stares at the women she called Mommy. I don’t like that I’m feeling. This isn’t who I am. I can’t be here
I dial 911 on their house phone and leave.
I get home by seven o’clock the next morning. The house smells of sweat and sex. The blonde on our sofa is half-dressed, her make up melted from her face making her resemble a wax model too close to a flame.
I kick the sofa, making her grumble and look up at me. Her hair is a mess and she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not Russell,” she mumbles, standing up, her tits on display. They’re marked with teeth marks.
“It’s Ryan, not Russell. Here,” Ryan says, walking down the hall and slinging a hundred dollar bill at her.
“What the fuck is this?” She holds up the cash. “I’m not a fucking prostitute!” She scoops her top up from the floor and pulls it over her head. It barely covers her tits. “And if I was, I’d charge more than that for the shit I let you do to me. I won’t be walking right for weeks, asshole.” She glares at my brother.
I rub my hand over my tired eyes.
“Great, a freebie then.” Ryan swipes the money from her hand. “See yourself out.”
This chick doesn’t even know his name then gets offended at being treated like a whore? I watch her retreat, slamming our front door behind her, the walls vibrating from the force.
A sigh leaves my body. “Leave that trash in the clubs, Ry. We’ve spoken about you bringing those types here. Put the video recorder away. I do not ever want to see what’s on that.”
I need a shower then sleep, and pray the green eyes that won’t leave my mind will let me shut off.
TWO WEEKS. THAT’S ALL IT’S been but it feels like a lifetime. Police interviews make me re-tell my nightmare over and over. Being unable to bury my parents is weighing heavy on me. Apparently the police hold the bodies while they do post mortems, and sometimes they’re retaken if new evidence comes to light. I have the image in my mind of my mom and dad’s rotting corpses laying on a slab, waiting to be cut into and prodded. You can’t control the thoughts that cloud your brain; mine are morbid, filled with flashes of the night. Hades came to taint my life, to show me true evil.
“They’re letting me in the house today, Mel, so you might as well come home. No point paying out for a hotel,” Markus, my half-brother, tells me. They called him when I went into shock and he’s been here annoying the shit out of me ever since. He cried when they told him our father is dead. It was weird seeing a man cry, especially Markus. He’s an asshole and used to argue with Dad all the time. He hated my mother and me, so to see him grieve was a surprise.
“I want to call Dad’s lawyer, get things rolling,” he tells me, meaning he wants his inheritance.
“I’m not ready for that, Markus. I want to bury them first.”
He grabs my upper arms, squeezing the soft flesh and making me wince. “Two weeks, Mel. I’ll give you two weeks then I want what’s mine.” His eyes are now devoid of sorrow, back to the cold blue irises that hold disfavour. Didn’t take him long to be back to the heartless shit I know he is. He doesn’t care that my family was murdered and I have no one left. All he cares about is money.
“You’re hurting me.”
He releases me with a shove and I fall back and land on the bed. Self-defence lessons will be the first thing I look up when I get back to college. I hate how feeble I am under the strength of a man’s hand.
I stare up at him and shift at the uncomfortable feeling I get from the way his eyes roam over my bare legs. He had barged into my hotel room at the crack of dawn. I’m still in my nightshirt and panties, my legs exposed. He might be my brother but we have never had affection as siblings, or
I dial 911 on their house phone and leave.
I get home by seven o’clock the next morning. The house smells of sweat and sex. The blonde on our sofa is half-dressed, her make up melted from her face making her resemble a wax model too close to a flame.
I kick the sofa, making her grumble and look up at me. Her hair is a mess and she narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not Russell,” she mumbles, standing up, her tits on display. They’re marked with teeth marks.
“It’s Ryan, not Russell. Here,” Ryan says, walking down the hall and slinging a hundred dollar bill at her.
“What the fuck is this?” She holds up the cash. “I’m not a fucking prostitute!” She scoops her top up from the floor and pulls it over her head. It barely covers her tits. “And if I was, I’d charge more than that for the shit I let you do to me. I won’t be walking right for weeks, asshole.” She glares at my brother.
I rub my hand over my tired eyes.
“Great, a freebie then.” Ryan swipes the money from her hand. “See yourself out.”
This chick doesn’t even know his name then gets offended at being treated like a whore? I watch her retreat, slamming our front door behind her, the walls vibrating from the force.
A sigh leaves my body. “Leave that trash in the clubs, Ry. We’ve spoken about you bringing those types here. Put the video recorder away. I do not ever want to see what’s on that.”
I need a shower then sleep, and pray the green eyes that won’t leave my mind will let me shut off.
TWO WEEKS. THAT’S ALL IT’S been but it feels like a lifetime. Police interviews make me re-tell my nightmare over and over. Being unable to bury my parents is weighing heavy on me. Apparently the police hold the bodies while they do post mortems, and sometimes they’re retaken if new evidence comes to light. I have the image in my mind of my mom and dad’s rotting corpses laying on a slab, waiting to be cut into and prodded. You can’t control the thoughts that cloud your brain; mine are morbid, filled with flashes of the night. Hades came to taint my life, to show me true evil.
“They’re letting me in the house today, Mel, so you might as well come home. No point paying out for a hotel,” Markus, my half-brother, tells me. They called him when I went into shock and he’s been here annoying the shit out of me ever since. He cried when they told him our father is dead. It was weird seeing a man cry, especially Markus. He’s an asshole and used to argue with Dad all the time. He hated my mother and me, so to see him grieve was a surprise.
“I want to call Dad’s lawyer, get things rolling,” he tells me, meaning he wants his inheritance.
“I’m not ready for that, Markus. I want to bury them first.”
He grabs my upper arms, squeezing the soft flesh and making me wince. “Two weeks, Mel. I’ll give you two weeks then I want what’s mine.” His eyes are now devoid of sorrow, back to the cold blue irises that hold disfavour. Didn’t take him long to be back to the heartless shit I know he is. He doesn’t care that my family was murdered and I have no one left. All he cares about is money.
“You’re hurting me.”
He releases me with a shove and I fall back and land on the bed. Self-defence lessons will be the first thing I look up when I get back to college. I hate how feeble I am under the strength of a man’s hand.
I stare up at him and shift at the uncomfortable feeling I get from the way his eyes roam over my bare legs. He had barged into my hotel room at the crack of dawn. I’m still in my nightshirt and panties, my legs exposed. He might be my brother but we have never had affection as siblings, or
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