Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 68 - Like Dominoes

I just ... froze. That's the funny thing about shock. You often didn't even realise you weren't moving, so it was quite hard to snap out of it. My brain had disconnected from my body, and it was flat-out refusing to process anything.

"Wasn't me," Dad said defiantly. "Hear that, boy? Wasn't me."

That did the trick. I took a slow, hesitant step forwards, and that let me see past the table. There was Eira, sat with her back against the wall in a pool of blood. A strange calmness washed over my body, chasing all thoughts from my mind.

She was dead, and she'd been that way for a while. The side of her head was caked in blood. Her grey shirt was soaked red and torn in several places. Those hazel eyes were open and staring at nothing. All the same, I walked over to put my fingers beneath her chin and check for a pulse. It was almost automatic.

No pulse. Her skin was still warm to the touch, but it was too limp. Lifeless. On the floor beside her, there were a few words scrawled in blood. It was very neat. She must have slaved over every letter to make sure I'd be able to understand.

don't hurt him

So my sister had spent her dying moments trying to protect the man who'd killed her. I straightened up and turned around, still so horribly calm. And I looked at my father, who'd now finished his apple.

"The girl was whishpering," he told me, rising to his feet. "She kept on and kept on and kept on. Well, what did she think would happen? Jeff doesn't likes the whishpering."

I'd been the one whispering. Eira had been trying to stop me. I just kept staring at him, trying to summon even an ounce of emotion. Anger, misery, guilt — I didn't care what. I needed to feel something.

"Serves her right," Dad muttered. "Yesh it does."

Part of me snapped. Slowly, deliberately, I walked over to him and lodged a vicious undercut into his stomach. It was all too easy to follow up with a blow to his chin as he was reeling. Dad went stumbling backwards, crashing into the table.

I took a step backwards to wait while he spat blood and climbed onto his knees. I wanted him to try to kill me, too. I wanted him to give me a reason. A reason no one would be able to question. It would be self-defence, then, not cold-blooded murder.

It looked like I'd get my wish. Dad's entire body was shaking. He dropped the ear onto the floor and howled at me. It was fury and pain and outrage condensed into a single quivering bellow. His eyes swirled gold, and yet I simply reached out through the link and ended his shift before it even began.

He tried it again. Once again, I reached into his mind and put a stop to it. Hissing, Dad withdrew a knife from his pocket instead. It was soaked to the hilt with my sister's blood. I recognised the handle — Eira had given it to him, once upon a time.

"Get out, boy," Dad said roughly. "Get out, or Jeff will takes your ear, too."

So he wanted to give me a warning, did he? Eira had done jack shit to him, and he'd quite happily stabbed her, and here I was, properly assaulting him, and I was allowed to leave? Was he ... afraid of me?

"Come on, then," I said, cocking my head to one side. "Take it."

He turned the knife so the blade pointed downwards. "No dark for you, boy. Jeff will have to make it slow. Last chance..."

He was losing it. I stood and stared at him, hoping he'd charge at me and make it easier. And yet, for all of his shaking, quivering rage, he didn't take a step. Maybe it was the way I was standing. Loose, relaxed, so horribly calm ... because none of this felt real to me.