Chapter 101 ASHES AND FUNERALS
THEO’S POINT OF VIEW.
Black umbrellas lined the chapel cathedral as the sound of wailing women filled the air. I wanted to cut my own ears off at the sound. The priest droned on and on about how great Phillip Kingswell was, about how kind he was, and how he was currently in the bosom of heaven.
It almost made me smile, because I knew one thing they didn’t: Phillip was in hell, and he would rot there for eternity. I would give anything to hear his screams of agony, the very ones my mother and sister had for years, up until I ended that fucker.
“We can be assured that a man as good and honourable as Phillip will be dearly remembered for his good works and how kind he was to everyone around him. Our thoughts and prayers will be with his family in this trying time.” The priest said, making me think about how every single person here knew in one way or another that my mother had been suffering under that tyrant’s thumb, but instead of offering a helping hand, chose to look away.
My maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Montbrridge, sat beside my mother, her stiff hands on her cloth-clad thighs, as she dabbed her eyes with her pink handkerchief.
It was almost pathetic how she refused to allow my mother’s request for a divorce and abandoned her daughter and grandchildren for years, only to come running when she heard Phillip was dead. Her tears were fake to me; I could barely see any fucking one roll down her cheeks for Pete’s sake.
“Now, we will allow the children of the deceased to come up and offer their last words. Please grant the family their privacy, as this must be very trying for them.” The priest said, a soft smile on his face, as he fought tears. I wanted to slap him.
He knew too. Every time my mother went in for her confessions, he saw the bruises on her skin, the dehydration, the fatigue, the hair loss….everything, but even as a man in such a position of power close to the queen, he did nothing.
My mother rose, her back stiff, as she dabbed her eyes with her napkin. I smiled at the woman she would become, finally free of the shackles Phillip placed on her. The entire royal family was here, too. I stared at them across the pew where we sat.
They looked at the closed casket with their noses in the air, not bothering to hide their know-it-all and smug looks. Each of them looked at my mother with disdain as she walked up the stairs to the casket. The feeling of protectiveness surged through me instantly because I knew one thing: my mother would get to live the life she truly wanted, as long as I lived, and was the new duke in my father’s stead.
“Your father was a visionary.” The priest said beside me, his brown eyes filled with tears and sorrow. It made me want to vomit, because I knew the man they were weeping over was nothing but a sick, murdering predator.
“You think so?” I whispered, my voice low enough so only he would hear me. He smiled slightly in response at first, probably because he’d seen how dead my eyes looked at the sound of that.
“Master Theo-“
“Quiet. You think you’ll get away scot free after what you did to my mother? You saw everything, didn’t you?”
“You don’t-“
“Answer the question, priest.”
“Well, yes. But the thing is, it was not my place to interfere.”
“You think if the best friend and favourite priest of the queen knew of the horrors my mother and her children had to undergo at the hands of a long-seated prince, she would have sat by?” He gulped as I grabbed his palm beside me. “Listen to me, you were a party to the madness. And now that I’m the successor, you’d wish you said something.”
“Master Theo, please, you must understand.”
“At what point did her bruises not concern you? At what point did the dark circles, her hollow cheeks, her coughing fit, everything…not point out that she wasn’t okay? But I guess the cheques you got were more important.”
“How did you-?”
“You thought I wouldn’t know?” I asked, smiling at the sight of his shock. “I knew everything about the businesses you and Phillip conducted together. And about how you were an accomplice in the murders he committed.”
“Please-“
“No one mourns the wicked, Priest,” I said with a smirk and got up. It was time to pay my respects to the dead.
My mother walked over to her seat, sitting in front of me. She gave me a soft smile, one fit for the cameras and people watching, but her eyes had a secret joy only I and my sister could see and understand. It was a new beginning for my sister and me, but it was a new dawn for her.
She pecks me lightly on my cheeks, tapping me on my back as I gently help her sit. I walked over to the closed casket and leaned low enough to whisper.
“Phillip,” I said, before I released a sound that felt both like a scoff and a chuckle. “You know, other kids, they’d feel sad about the death of their father. Hell, they’ll probably feel very sad; they’d be falling over themselves in sorrow. But me, I’m fucking elated. You wanted to make me like you; hell, you wanted to make me you. But guess what, you’re fucking dead, so I win.”
I chuckled, drumming slowly and softly on the white casket. His brother had specifically asked for the colour white, since he would be, as he said, ‘gliding with angels.’ At the funeral procession. It was so fucking ironic, because he was already demon food.
“You tried to break me, my mother, and my sister. But I hope you can burn in hell at the thought of my mother finally being happy without you, because I sure as hell will make it happen. My sister, she’ll be at the very best, cool, doing what she really wants, the thought of you being long gone, and too far out of reach to ever get her will be the icing on the fucking cake.
And guess what, Seraphina?
She’ll be safe, sound, and soon, she’ll carry the Kingswell name as my wife. If you have to turn in your fucking grave at the thought of that, go ahead and do it. My only sadness is that I won’t be there to see you rot in hell.
Lord knows I’d give anything to have a glimpse of your agony, to see you writhing in even more pain than you caused others. Knowing that you’re suffering will be enough comfort for me.
Burn in hell, father.”
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A few hours later, we were finally standing outside, watching as my father’s body was lowered into the freshly dug, six-foot-deep grave. The mourners wept loudly with each moment the casket was lowered, their screams pitching even higher and higher, almost grating my ears. But I played the dutiful, mourning son, my eyes filled with sadness as I wept for my father.
The priest recited the final prayer as the diggers poured the last of the sand, signalling the end of this nightmare.