Bad Influence (Seven Deadly Sins #2) ✅ Completed

Chapter Thirty-One: Words as Swords

Dolores Andersen led the way to her daughter’s bedroom. Dante had opted to stay downstairs and I was grateful for the small mercy.

When I’d reached her door, Mrs. Andersen had thrown it open, ushering me inside before I’d even lifted my hand to ring the bell. When she saw Dante was still in his vehicle, she’d stepped outside and waved impatiently until he jumped out of his truck and made his way into the house. She’d followed close on his heels and bolted the door once he’d joined me in the foyer.

My back was to him as I asked Mrs. Andersen to take me to Andy. Dante didn’t say a word but turned and headed into the livingroom to wait while I handled everything. Even though he wasn’t talking, I knew he wasn’t really leaving me alone. He would be able to hear and see everything Andy said and did through me. I had no doubt if something went awry, he would be there faster than I could blink. At least for now he was giving me some space and I appreciated it. I couldn’t stand to look at him just yet.

“This way,” Mrs. Andersen replied, leading me to the stairs. She wore a cream blouse that set off her string of pears nicely, a dark A-line skirt, and small expensive looking heels. On anyone else, it may have appeared she was headed into work at a posh office but I was pretty sure the pearls and heels were as natural to Andy’s mom as my sneakers and jeans were to me.

As we climbed she continued talking, slowly at first but gaining momentum as each word tumbled out, “She won’t come out of her room. She’s turned on every light, gathered up every lamp and flashlight she could find. I don’t know what to do. She keeps asking for you. She won’t even let me inside the room.” 

Mrs. Andersen stopped at the top of the stairs and faced me. She had a look of despair and desperation mixed in with a nice dose of suspicion. Whatever was happening with Andy, she resented the fact she had to call an outsider for help. It was written all over her face, bleeding into her eyes. Her right hand clutched the string of pearls around her neck and worked them nervously.

I didn’t know what she wanted me to say and frankly I didn’t care. I was here. What more did she really need?

When she saw I wasn’t about to offer some kind of apology or excuse she simply asked straight-out, “What is happening to my daughter?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me, Mrs. Andersen,” I answered truthfully. There was no point in sugar coating or lying – the best I could hope for was outright avoidance.

She nodded once in understanding before dropping her hand and starting down the hall. When she spoke again, her voice was almost conversational, “Did you know I had a brother once?”

“No, I wasn’t aware,” I answered. I didn’t know much about anyone in town. It was hard enough learning everything about my estranged great aunt and what she was into. It didn’t really leave any time to catch up on the remaining townsfolk except for Chase, and all that had accomplished was driving away my only other friend in Blackwater.  

 Dolores kept on talking as if she hadn’t seen me or cared, “His name was Dennis and he didn’t have a mean bone in his whole body. My father was a war veteran, strong and proud – a genuine pillar of the community.” She stopped but this time her eyes had a distant and faraway look in them, like she was lost in her own memories, “He was also the meanest man to ever walk Main Street.”

She continued down the hall as she spoke, “He thought my brother was weak and detested the character flaw. You see, Dennis was a sensitive boy. He didn’t like to hunt or kill anything. My father didn’t understand such notions. He’d drag him out of bed at ungodly hours of the night to go deer or turkey hunting. It didn’t matter. Dennis couldn’t pull a trigger to save his life. Year after year, he’d take him out to the woods for hours and hours but each trip always ended the same. My brother would come home with a black eye, maybe a busted lip or a broken tooth, but his gun would still have the round my father loaded in it the night before. My father couldn’t make my brother do anything he didn’t want to do, and I think he hated him for it.”