“I can’t do this,” I whispered, staring at the people milling about.
Harry shook his head. “Yes, you can. Stop being so negative.”
“I’m… What if he’s suing me?”
“He can’t leave it in his will to sue you, Bren, let’s be logical.”
I turned to Harry. “I’m scared, Harry. Alright? I’m scared. I’ve seen many things that should have scared me a lot more than they did, but this is scaring me a lot more.”
We had left his mum’s house earlier that day, after staying for a week. Anne hadn’t asked me about my dad or his death, and Harry hadn’t mentioned me walking into their private conversation. He had acted as if nothing had happened, and I appreciated that immensely.
“Brenna Edwards?”
I snapped my head towards the name, finding a man leaning out of his door, an apologetic smile on his face.
“Hi, I’m Matt Devon. Sorry for not coming to greet you sooner, you’re a tad late.”
He looked about thirty. He was wearing glasses that looked like they were too big for his head, and his black hair was gelled back. He was dressed in a suit, and he was freshly shaved.
I stood up, keeping my eyes on him. His eyes flickered to Harry. “He can’t come in.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Only immediate family.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “Don’t try and lie to me about who is, because I’ve read all your files, dear.”
“Your files?” Harry asked.
I ignored him. “I don’t like the idea of you snooping into my life,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry, I had to pry in order to find you. Had to speak to Doctor Evans.”
“Oh, really?” I asked.
“Yes. He told me a lot about you.”
“Did you have fun analysing my life?”
He looked embarrassed. “Well, I wouldn’t call it analysing.”
“Who’s Doctor Evans?” Harry asked.
I kept my eyes on Matt. “From the age of thirteen to fifteen I was ordered to see a psychiatrist. He was no help. I refused to go to him again.”
“Which was irrational.”
“He told me I should forgive my dad.”
“Look, would you like to come in to my office? We could discuss this if you’d like, but I have no intentions of learning about your life. I just had to look around in order to find contact information. Hence why I phoned at two in the morning. Which was unprofessional of me, I know. My office is this way.”
“Okay.” I looked at Harry, who was assessing Matt with a frown on his face. “Harry, I’ll be out soon. Let’s get this over with.”
I followed Matt into his office and sat down, keeping an eye on him as he sat opposite me.
“Right, well how are you, Miss Edwards? Grieving for the loss of your father?”
“The man beat me regularly.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“You said you’ve read my files. You should know about what he did to me.”
“I didn’t actually read into your files,” he said, seeming proud of himself. “Just the phone number, which I had to retrieve from Doctor Evans.”
“PTSD.”
“Sorry?”
“He diagnosed me with PTSD. Said the only way he could stop it was by me forgiving my dad. How dumb is that?”
He shifted. Good, he was uncomfortable. “PTSD. Made it sound like I had served in Afghanistan. I had depression, too. Pretty sure I still do.”
“Are you seeing a psychiatrist for that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if we could talk about what you came here to do…”
“Self-mutilation. Well, Impulse Control, but, whatever.”
“Oh Dear.”
“Had to hurt myself at least twice a day. He helped with that, though. That’s the only thing that worthless piece of shit is useful for. Helped me control my urges.”
“Did… Doctor Evans hurt you?” He asked tentatively.
“No. He was just a useless person, is all. I wouldn’t let a man hurt me. I won’t let a man hurt me. Ever again.”
“That’s good.”
“What else? Let’s see… Adjustment Disorder. Also, insomnia.”
“I see.”
“No, Mr. Devon, you really don’t. The effects of what my father did to me, mentally and physically, are still there. So, you can understand why I really don’t want to be here, sitting in your office, whilst you give me whatever he gave me. Right?”
“Of course, and I understand completely. I’ll make this quick, I swear.”
I nodded and leant back, watching him fumble with the papers on his desk. Had I made him that nervous? I was a cruel bitch when my so called father was involved, it seemed.
“He hasn’t left you a lot,” Matt said, clearing his throat.
I shrugged. “I’m surprised he left me anything at all.”
“Well, it may be little, but it isn’t little at all.”
I frowned. “What? I don’t understand.”
“Well,” he smiled. “I’m sure this’ll make you happy. He’s left you fifty percent of the money he owns, see?”
I stared at the piece of paper he had produced. Sure enough, in black print it said:
50% OF SAVINGS GO TO DAUGHTER. BIRTH NAME: BRENNAN ROSE EDWARDS.
50% OF SAVINGS GO TO SON. BIRTH NAME: ADRIAN ROSS EDWARDS.
My breathing increased, and I took the paper from him. “No… This isn’t right. He didn’t…”
Matt shook his head. “It’s completely right.”
“Why did he…?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much is the total money I get?” I demanded, probably making me seem like a hungry-for-cash whore. In a way, I was. However, I was pretty sure I was going into a state of shock.
He looked at his computer, tapping away whilst I stared at the piece of paper. It was complete with a signature from him.
“The totally is six hundred thousand, seven hundred, forty five pounds and twenty three penny’s.”
I cursed under my breath. My dad had money, he was involved in a gang, and it wasn’t really hard for him to get money quick, easy, and in bulks. But, if he had been in jail, how would he have been able to collect so much money. And more importantly, why had he left me half?
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Did he go to prison... Jail, whatever?”
“Yes.”
“So…”
“His sentence was meant to be a year, but it was reduced to nine months.”
I looked at him, my lip quivering. “What?”
“He got a good lawyer, I guess,” Matt shrugged. “Also, your brother didn’t have any marks on him, so it was obvious you were the only victim. He claimed you were difficult to handle. You drank, and you were abusive. Mentally unstable, apparently. It matched with what Doctor Evans concluded, and you did have the impulse to burn yourself, which backed your dad up perfectly. He still had to do the year and pay a fine because of the fact that he admitted to punching you.”
I was stiff in the seat. “Oh.”
He hadn’t had a long jail sentence because I was apparently mentally ill. They hadn’t asked me to testify. I bit down on my lip, hard. I was the one who asked to file a restraining order against both him and my brother. I had been laughed at by my care home ‘brothers’, but I was told by staff that he wouldn’t be allowed near me. Nor would my ‘brother’, Adrian.
He nodded wordlessly. “So, I’ve got a bank account number for you. The money will be transferred to your bank, I’ll just need you to sign this to say you want the money.”
“I…” Did I want the money? “Okay.”
He produced some more papers, and I signed each one numbly, not bother to read what they said. I was positive I was hallucinating. My dad had left me money? Once all of the papers were signed, Matt stood up.
“Well, I would love for you to stay and chat, but I have another client coming in.”
I nodded, walking over to the door and opening it. I scanned the room, looking for Harry. My eyes fell on this man sitting by the door. I stiffened, taking in the dark hair and brown eyes.
“Adrian?” I whispered, and the man turned to look at me.
His lips curled up. “Brenna. Hi there. Long time, no see.”
I turned towards Matt, who was standing by his door. “I see you’ve been re-united with your brother.”
I stared at Adrian. He hadn’t changed much from when I’d last seen him. The only difference was that this time, he was sporting a beard. It aged him significantly.
“This is your brother?” Harry asked, staring at Adrian. I hadn’t even seen him show up.
“Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” Adrian asked.
This was all too much for me. “Why is he here?”
“I’m your brother, dear Brenna. I had some part in the will, too.”
“Why aren’t you mourning?” I asked. “You were closer to him than I was.”
“That, I was,” he shrugged. “I got more than you, didn’t I?”
A row of teeth was revealed by him grinning, and I had the overwhelming urge to slap him. The little prick. Harry noticed my tense and slipped his arm into mine.
“I think we should go,” he whispered in my ear.
“You did get more than me,” I said, ignoring Harry.
“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Well, you heard me.”
“What’d you get? His dentures?” Adrian scoffed. The sound of his scoff made my blood boil.
“No, actually, dear Adrian,” I mocked him. “I got half of his saving. Six hundred thousand, to be exact.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and so did Adrian’s.
“I believe you go the dentures, so it sucks to suck, doesn’t it?” I hissed.
“You’re lying.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. You’ve done nothing but lie since you were born. You killed mum, you sick girl. Then you had the nerve to lie about it! But no one ever believed you did they? Oh, Harry, has she told you about how she killed my mum? She doesn’t care about anyone, do you, Brennie? Deserved everything you got.”
It wasn’t the fact that he called me a liar. It wasn’t the fact that he asked Harry if I’d told him. It wasn’t the fact that he accused me of not caring about anyone, nor the use of ‘Brennie’, my childhood nickname. It was the fact that he said I deserved everything I got. I did not deserve a single thing that had happened to me, and we both knew that. I let go of Harry had and lunged for Adrian.
I started to punch him, again and again. He let me for the first few punches. Then, when I began pounding his face, he tried to push me off. It was when his nose started bleeding that a strong pair of hands were put on my waist and I was pulled off of him.
“Brenna, stop! He’s not worth it.” Harry shouted, and I tore my eyes away from Adrian to look at Harry, who looked shocked. I had just had an outburst. Yay, me.
Adrian was being tended to by staff. I looked at Matt. “Are you going to arrest me?”
It was a dumb question to ask. He opened his mouth to reply, but Adrian got there first. “Leave.”
I turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“Go. Leave. I got what I deserved, and you got to give me an ounce of what you’re entitled to do. Payback, for all those years. Just, go now. Leave. Before they call the police or whatever, and you’re stopped and arrested. A criminal record wouldn’t look good on you.”
So I walked to the lift, getting it quietly, and I felt oddly calm. But, as I took one last look at Adrian, who had since sat up, the feeling was replaced by sadness. As we walked to Harry’s car, and we both got in, I realised he was right.
He had wound me up on purpose. He felt bad. Adrian felt bad because of what I’d had to go through. So, to give himself closure, he had wound me up so that I would hurt him. It may have given him closure, but I felt awful. I was sad, and I needed time to think.
I was so consumed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the car stop. I looked up sharply. We were at some coffee shop.
“Harry,” I muttered.
“Do you want anything?” He asked, his concerned eyes finding mine. I stared at the taxis parked on the road, waiting for someone to get in them.
“No.”
Did I want something? I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to say it.
“Are you alright? You were pretty pissed off back there.”
I stared at his blood on my knuckles. “Why are you still here?”
“I told you, you can’t get rid of me.”
“I can. I could break up with you.”
“Not without reason.”
“Exactly. I have a reason. I’m fucking insane. Fucked up. Broken.”
“You are not broken, or any of those. You’re a little charred. We all are.”
I thought about what he said, and I kept silent. “You deserve better than me.”
“And you deserve better than me.”
“No.”
“Exactly my response.”
“I know what I want.”
“To break up?”
“No. Space.”
“Space?”
I nodded. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I get that. You’ve had an, er, extremely stressful day. So I’ll drive us back to college and leave you alone for the evening. Then, I’ll check on you in the morning.”
“No. I want space. From you. I need a break. I don’t… I don’t want you to talk to me until I say so. Not for a while.”
He frowned, drawing his brows together. “What… What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, don’t talk to me. I need this, Harry.”
He sat silent for a moment, and the only thing that could be heard was our breathing. He understood what I was saying, and he looked so broken I almost listened to what my heart was saying and told him I was being stupid and I loved him and please could he hug me and never let me go, but that wasn’t possible.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were blank.
“Okay,” his voice was cold, empty. “Get out of my car.”
“What?” I whispered.
“You want space? Me driving for an hour and a half isn’t space. Get out.”
I was going to protest, to tell him he was a dick. But I couldn’t. Because I was the one who had asked for space.
“I…”
I got out of the car, and to my surprise he got out to. I realised he’d probably go to buy a coffee, and my heart sank. He looked so upset, it killed me to know I was the reason for that. He went to the taxi directly in front of us and said something to the driver, pulling out his wallet. He handed the driver money, and looked at me.
“Get it.”
“What?”
“You need a ride back, and since you aren’t going in my car, I’m not risking you staying here by your own. The taxi driver will take you back.”
“T-thank you. I’ll pay you back--”
“Save it. Whatever. Goodbye, Brenna.” He nodded at me, a sad smile touching his lips before he turned and got into his car and drove off. I had to keep reminding myself that what he was doing was normal, that this whole thing was my fault. Because it was.
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A/N: don’t kill me
xoxo