I Chose to Die (Siren Suicides, Book 1)

Chapter 15. Restroom Stall

I land in front of my father, barely a few feet away. I grip his wrist and tighten my fingers until he drops the gun on the floor with a thin, plastic-like sound. My grip must be painful, but his face doesn't show it. Instead, I'm afraid I detect a hint of pleasure, and a genuine smile unlike any other smile I've ever seen on his face. There he stands, taking numerous measurements of my body, as if appraising livestock that he wants to buy. I bet he knows I'm not easy to kill.

"Ailen, sweetie, so good to have found you." His face turns into a mask of politeness, covering the cold-hearted indifference of a true siren hunter and a strange exultation that borders on parental pride. I shudder from the thought.

"If only for one minute you didn't devalue me, Papa. If only for one minute I didn't loathe you," I say.

"Don't talk to me like that. Why do you have to be so harsh? Let's discuss this like civil people. I'll give you one minute to get ready, all right? The car is parked downstairs, right by the market entrance. It's waiting."

Suddenly, tears cloud my vision. He doesn't hear me, he never does. This time I'll make him, whether he wants to or not.

"No, Papa. I told you, I'm not coming home. I hate it there, don't you understand? It's not the same without mom. Never will be. It's empty." The echo of my voice reverberates across the walls and I immediately shrink. Did I dare to yell at him? Asphyxiation grabs my throat and poisons it, makes me mute. I begin to hyperventilate.

As if to confirm my suspicion, he rolls out his big, horrible eyes, perhaps knowing what power they hold over my thoughts, my movements. Over my very being.

"I said, we're going home," he says quietly and begins wiggling out of my grip. My fingers slacken, my knees grow soft, and I want to hide from his gaze, all my siren powers forgotten.

I notice that the shouting has stopped. There is an eerie silence, as if we're observed by a breathless audience, waiting to see what will happen next. Then everything erupts into action.

"Lovely, Ailen Bright. I knew it. You've got talent, silly girl. Do them like that, fool them, twist their psyche around your words. Oh, this is so entertaining," Canosa says behind my back and pushes me to the side. Within seconds, we're surrounded by sirens. Teles, anger and hurt in her eyes, circles her fingers around my father's throat, and Ligeia and Pisinoe each take an arm and twist them, pulling them to the sides, making him look like a flattened eagle.

"We'll leave his mouth to you, big sister. As always," says Ligeia with a gleeful smile.

"So that's what it is. It's all a game to you both, isn't it? There is some history behind it, I can tell. And you're using her as bait to get back at each other. Nice." I hear Hunter hiss as he walks up to us, his sneakers crunching over broken glass and wood chips. "But you don't care. Man, you don't give a fuck, do you? If she dies or not in the process, it's not your worry."

I see a shocked expression flash over my father's face, as if Hunter touched on a painful button. But he can't talk, gasping for air as Teles playfully chokes him.

"You close your mouth and listen, Hunter Crossby, boy. Use your manners and don't interrupt me. Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to interrupt? What a pity." Canosa seizes a handful of Hunter's hoodie and pulls him closer to her, so that their noses almost touch.

"You leave my mother out of this, you stupid, bronze, bathroom bitch." Hunter's soul melody shifts up a notch, and I know he's angry. "Come to think of it, your mother abandoned you, I'm sure. What was her name, let's see here, Terpsichore? Melpomene? Sterope? Can't remember."

Canosa snarls and throws Hunter to the ground. He meets it with a sickening crunch. And then there is movement to the left, by the entrance into the restroom—some slaps, some grunting, some whispering and squealing. The first head peaks around the corner. The spectators have arrived.