Reminiscence {Book Two of the Vengeance Trilogy}

Chapter Seventeen: Defenseless

"I'll never forget that night. I'll never forget hearing her voice as she looked at me, or how Elliot looked at me so helplessly and I knew that there was nothing I could do, but most importantly, I'll never forget what they did," I said in a cold tone of voice. Talking about that night and remembering everything so vividly always triggered something in me. It brought back all of the exploding rage that I felt at that moment, but it was different. Like something was muting it. I wasn't going to act on it or anything, so it just sat inside of me, festering.

"Do you still care about Elliot?" Peter asked.

"Honestly? Yeah, I do. Part of the deal I made with Tom was that when all of this shit is said and done, he would spare Elliot. I may not agree with him on a lot of things, but I can't deny the fact that he's the only family I have left."

I didn't want to talk anymore. It felt as though I was being swallowed whole by the memory of that night. The anger that was still inside was taking me. I wanted to go to my aunt's grave and cry, but I knew that doing so wasn't an option. The air around Peter and me was pretty quiet to begin with, the only sounds being the humming of cars in the distance and a slight winter breeze, but I felt all of it fade out as I stared out onto the cityscape. Before I could feel myself fade away completely, Peter's voice dragged me out of my trance-like state.

"Eres muy sabio para olvidarte, pero muy tonto para perdonar."

"What?"

"It's something my father used to say to me whenever I would try to hide the fact that I was being bullied in school. He never liked it when I would bottle up my feelings," he told me.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Pues claro que hablo español, naci en España," he said with a sly smirk smoothed across his lips, but I shook my head. He then let out a small laugh and gave me his usual dorky smile. "I was born and raised in Spain, Spanish was needed."

"Right, well, what was that you said just then? Sorry, I'm not well versed in Spanish," I said. Peter's expression slowly phased out and was replaced by something between remorseful and angry.

"You are wise to never forget, but a fool to forgive." I stared at Peter, waiting for another question or comment. There had to be more on his mind. As the silence between us grew, my anxiety grew with it. What the hell could he be thinking about? I wanted so badly to pick his brain apart just so that I could know.

"Danny, I appreciate you telling me all of this, but Tom has changed. You've seen it yourself. He isn't that anymore," Peter said and as much as I wanted to tell him that he was wrong, I knew that I still had to keep up my appearance. Peter wasn't convinced, which meant that if he found out that I was working for the enemy, Tom would find out shortly after.

"I understand, but I disagree. I still see Tom as the guy who gets a warm, fuzzy feeling from killing."

"Then why are you here?" he asked, but to my surprise, not in a malicious tone. He was genuinely curious.

"I don't hate Elliot, but I'm not the biggest fan of his pack. More specifically, I hate Elliot's second in command, Emmet. He thinks that I destroy everything I touch. That whatever task Elliot gives me, I'll fuck up. I'm not over here crying oceans over it, but you can only hang on so long until your fingers start to slip." It wasn't until the silence began to fill the air that I realized how much I had said. Talking about it was cathartic and I felt myself growing more and more comfortable in the quiet between the two of us.

Snowflakes slowly began to fall around us. It was still autumn, just beginning to turn into winter and even in the middle of the season it was rare to see snow. I held my hand out and watched as one flake fell right into the palm of my hand. I stared at it for a while, waiting for it to melt, but it stayed there along with the other flakes that we began to accumulate. Right, I thought to myself, you don't exactly meet the requirements to be considered alive. You're as cold as you would be if you were dead.