~ CHRISTOPHER ~
Fingers brushed my cheek, the touch waking me. I opened my eyes, not happy to see my mother staring down at me. She was sitting on the couch next to me, while I lay spread out across it, bound and gagged.
She brushed my cheek again. “It’s going to be all right, tesoro,” she said, calling me her treasure. I didn’t understand how she could use a word like that with me lying here like this, something she’d helped happen.
“Will you promise not to shout if I take your gag out?” she asked.
I nodded, just wanting it gone.
She pulled it off. I moved my jaw around, loosening the ache from having the gag in for so long. I glanced at the clock on my father’s desk, my heart sinking at the time. It was just past five p.m., over six hours after the time I was meant to meet Catherine. Panic started to build inside of me, worried that she would change her mind and fight my grandfather instead of leaving with me. But I forced that panic down, knowing I needed to be calm so I could escape.
I held my hands out. “Please untie me, Mamma, it hurts,” I pleaded, purposely playing on her emotions, not feeling guilty at all about doing it. I still couldn’t get over what she’d done, couldn’t get my head around any of my family thinking that this was all right. My grandfather kept trying to justify it, saying that it was for my sake, so I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else. But the fact that they’d tied me up and locked me in the study did hurt me. Family didn’t do this to you. They didn’t make you a prisoner. They didn’t.
My mother bowed her head as if she was about to break out in prayer. “Please forgive me, Chris, I didn’t want to do it.”
“Then untie me.”
She looked back up at me. “This girl. What is she like?”
“Catherine?”
“Sì. What is she like?”
“Why?”
“She called me.”
“What did she say?”
My mother’s dark eyes misted over. “A lot of home truths. Do you trust her?”
“More than you,” I answered, making her flinch.
“What will it take to make you trust me?”
I didn’t reply, not sure if I could ever trust her again.
“Please, figlio,” she said, looking close to tears. “I want to make this right.”
“Maybe if you untied me it would help.”
She bit her lip, uncertainty tempering her features, but instead of saying no, she got up and grabbed some scissors off the desk. She sat back down and started cutting the duct tape from my ankles, removing it from my jeans.
I sat up and stretched my legs, aching from the time I’d been trussed up like an animal. I held my arms out next, so she could remove the tape from my wrists.
“Do you hate me, Chris?” she asked, not making a move to remove it.
I didn’t reply.
Her face twisted. “I deserve that.” She wiped her eyes. “Deserve it all. I allowed you to get hurt. I even helped them hurt you.” She grabbed my wrists, hacking at the tape, her tears falling onto my hands. “I can’t believe I did this,” she said, yanking the tape off. “I can’t believe I allowed them to talk me into tying up my own son.” She leaned down and kissed my now free wrists, then looked back up at me, her eyes so mournful it hurt to look at them. I averted my gaze, my mother still capable of hurting me with one look.
“I can’t leave your father,” she said. “I don’t want you to leave either, but I can’t keep letting him hurt you. Please, just tell me you trust this girl. Tell me she wants to protect you like I can’t.”
“She does,” I said.
My mother pushed to her feet. “Then go before they return.”
I got up too, not believing this was happening. “Grazie, Mamma.”
“I don’t deserve your thanks. Now hurry, they’ll be home soon.”
She grabbed my arm and yanked me to the door. I pulled free and snatched up my bag. The money was gone, but some of my stuff was still in it. I zipped it up and pulled it on as she led the way out of the study and into the lounge. We entered the passageway, stopping as the front door cracked open. She shoved me into her room. I shot behind the door, my heart pounding like crazy, the beat picking up more at my father’s voice.
“Maria,” he said. “How’s the boy doing?”
“Fine,” she replied, her voice wobbling. I grimaced, praying she held it together, my mother a lousy liar.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“He’s... He’s just so upset.”
“That’s understandable, but don’t upset yourself over it, amore. We’re doing this for his own good.”
I gritted my teeth, what he was doing definitely not for my benefit. I glanced at the window on the other side of the room, eyeing it up as a possible escape route.
“Are you sure this girl’s as bad as Papà’s making her out to be?” my mother asked.
“Sì. She’s nothing but a trumped up little whore,” he spat, making me tense.
“How do you know that?”
“I told you what that park ranger said she was doing to Chris. She’s corrupting our boy, poisoning him against us. He’s never acted up like this before, not even with that Levy girl. The harpy has gotten her claws into him.”
“Only demon Halos can be harpies, and she’s a Maris.”
“A siren then. What does it matter? She’s still corrupting him.”
“And you’re not?”
“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.
“Hitting him. Why do you always have to hurt him?”
“He attacked me first.”
“Only the last few times. But what about all the other times? You say you don’t want to be a demon, but you don’t even try to be an angel.”
“I can’t help being born a—”
“You weren’t born a demon!” she screamed. “I told you it’s got nothing to do with blood, but you refuse to listen to me, only taking Papà’s word, someone who wears his heritage like a demon wears fake angel wings.”
“He’s not a demon!” my father spat. “And I’m not just taking Papà’s word, The Book of the Rosary clearly states it’s about blood.”
“Which has been proven wrong. The Merge Chronicles—”
“Are unreliable.”
“No, they’re not! And if you think it’s about blood, then why did Papà say he could possess Chris the other day? He said his parents were angels, which according to The Book of the Rosary would make him an angel. But angels can’t possess, you know that.”
“Maybe he’s wrong about his parents.”
“Either way, Papà’s a demon, and although I want to stay with him, I can’t at Chris’ expense. And you shouldn’t either.”
“What are you saying?”
“We have to either leave without Papà or let Chris leave. And right now, I’m thinking we need to let Chris go, because you’re just as much a danger to him as Papà is.”
“No! We’re a famiglia. We have to stay together.”
“For how long? Because one of you will end up killing the other if we don’t let him go.”
“No one is going to die!”
“No one has to if you just let Chris go, because I won’t stand around, allowing you to knock him about anymore. I’ve had enough, Antonio. I have had enough!”
“You’ve had enough? Well, I’ve had enough of spoilt children who think they can do whatever they damn well please. I’ve also had enough of weak women who pander to those children.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”
“I will speak to you however I damn well please, woman! And you will pull your head in.”
“Pull my head in. You’re the one brutalising our son!”
“Watch your mouth!”
“Why? Will you hit me too?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why do you hit our son?!”
“He pushes me.”
“So, you think it’s fine to attack him because he pushes you?”
“Don’t mock me!”
“I’m not mocking you, because that would mean I think you’re a joke, and I’m not laughing, Antonio, far from it. You need to take responsibility for what you’ve done to Chris, so does Papà. You both care more about yourselves than that poor boy, and I won’t take it anymore!”
“What the hell is happening?”
I froze at the sound of my grandfather’s voice.
“Maria? Antonio?” he asked.
“She’s gone mad,” my father replied. “Wants us to let Chris go.”
“Where’s Chris now?”
“In the study,” my mother spat. “Where you monsters left him trussed up.”
Footsteps passed the room, heading away from me. The door opened a second later. “Run,” my mother whispered, the other two gone.
I shot out of the room, just as a yell came from the lounge. I took off down the passage, glancing back as my father appeared in the lounge doorway.
“Stop, Chris!” he yelled.
But I didn’t. I ran. I ran for my life.