Chapter 82 THE MONSTER'S HEIR
THEO'S POINT OF VIEW.
He stood over me with a belt in his hand and a sick smirk on his lips. I would take it, as long as he never touched my mother or sister ever again. But when I have enough power and evidence, I’ll have him sent off to a prison dark enough to contain his madness.
“You want to play hero so bad, huh?” He mocked, before swinging the belt again. It hit me in my back, and again, I hissed internally, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my grunts.
“You claim I’m sick, but you’re wrong, boy.” He spat, swinging his hands like he was a fucking monarch. “I am a legacy, something the world will never forget. And you-“ He stopped, swinging his belt again until he heaved a sigh of exhaustion. “Will take over from me soon. You cannot afford to be so weak. Soon you’ll realize just how much fun this is. You will wear what I want, eat what I want, fuck who I want you to fuck, you will do as I fucking want. It’s already in your blood, son. I see it, and soon, you’ll enjoy this as much as I do.”
The word, son, felt like a slap. I hated the fact that he and I were related, that someone like him would be my ancestor soon. I hated him.
My hands twitched with the urge to wrap them around his throat and watch until the life slowly left his eyes, but my mother’s subtle cry stopped me. They have been the chains around my feet for the longest time. Every time I felt like I could kill him, she would flash into my mind, and I would stay my hand.
So instead of ending his pathetic life, I lay there, taking his blows, his kicks, his sick words. All of it, until he tired himself out and had to go back to his seat.
I pretended to be too weak to stand, even though this was barely as bad as I’d had to endure from him all my life. His boisterous laughter fills the tense atmosphere as he munched on his roast beef, staining his white shirt without a care in the world.
I waited on the cold floor, not caring about how it seeped into my bones, because as long as my loved ones needed it, I’d play a fucking weak man.
After what felt like forever, he stood to his feet and walked off to wherever. The second he was out of her line of vision, my mother bolted towards me. My sister followed behind her swiftly. I got on my knees immediately, the sight of my mother crying sending a pang of pain to my chest.
I hated him for every tear that fell from her eyes, every bruise she had incurred, every scar she had to hide, or undergo plastic surgery to conceal, because he wanted her to look a particular way, or it would be her life next.
“Theo.” She whimpered, falling to her knees beside me, not caring that some of my blood had spilled on the floor. Her shaky hands cradled my face as she stared at me with sad eyes. “Oh, look at you.”
“Brother.” My sister whimpered as she stared at me. I looked at her young face, already marred by the sickness that was Phillip Kingswell.
I hated that she had to deal with it. She was eleven for fucks sake. She should be worrying about some boy band, and not that my father might choose to hurt her in the middle of the night, not that she had to have a knife beside her in bed while she slept at night, because my father was a sick bastard who didn’t understand the word ‘no’.
“I’m okay, mama. I’m good.” I said with a bright smile on my face, cradling her face in my hands. She felt so fragile…too fragile, it was almost as though she would break if I held on too hard. I plastered a fake smile on my face. As long as she believed it, as long as she slept easier at night beside my sister, I would be alright.
She whimpers in my arms, before a sad smile stretches across her face. “You haven’t told me how school went today. Did you see…her?” She whispers low enough for only three of us to hear.
I smiled in response, and her face became less sad. I’d told my mother about Seraphina, and she’s been so excited ever since.
“That’s good. You should come eat. I made something, it’s in Anastasia’s room, my love.” She whispered, pulling me to my feet with as much strength as she could muster.
When we got to my sister’s room, Anastasia pulled the first aid kit from her closet. “ We’re almost out.” She frowned, holding the bottle of medicated spirit.
“I’ll get some more tomorrow,” I answered as my mother treated my bruises.
I caught a glimpse of a bruise on her arm as she leaned into me. “What is this?” I asked sharply, pulling her bony arm to me.
She tries to pull herself from my hold, but I don’t let her. “It’s nothing, Theo.” She whispers. But I know it’s not nothing.
I failed her again…I couldn’t protect her hard enough if my father still hit her.’ It’s because I wasn’t home, isn’t it?” I asked, but my mother doesn’t respond; she just blinks her tears away and dabs at the blood on my lip.
“No, my son. It’s okay. Just focus on school, and come out on top.”
It was in that moment that I vowed to myself afresh;
I would kill my father if it meant freeing her and my sister from his shackles.
My phone dinged with a text, drawing my attention to it.
Seraphina.
I couldn’t help it, my lips stretched of their own accord in a smile at the sight of her name.
“I had fun today…but please, no one must know about us. See you at tutorials tomorrow, same time, same place.”
“Oh, look. It’s her.” My mother’s excited voice cuts in, as she clutches my shoulders gently.
I turn to her, and the sight of her beautiful face, marred with sadness caused by the man who should protect her, causes me to utter the words that may lead to my death;
“I’ll get you out of this, even if I have to die for it.”