***"You never needed any help***
***You sold me out to save yourself***
***And I won't listen to your shame***
***You ran away, you're all the same."*** *- Slipknot*
***Holden Young***
I rubbed my eyes hard as if the absurd pressure would make everything clearer. I wondered if my senses were being affected by some unknown force, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a plausible excuse for what had just happened.
I had been away for just a few minutes, handling details for the album release party—the only event left before we hit the road for the tour. And in that short time, I heard something worthy of a horror film.
My parents were verbally attacking Alissa, and all because we had fallen in love as teenagers. It didn’t make sense.
Even though I had lived with them my entire life, I had never seen this aggressive, cruel side of them. They weren’t exactly exemplary parents, but I couldn’t recall when I was treated even remotely like this.
Looking back now, maybe I had just failed to notice the microaggressions—the subtle gestures or words that disguised their true nature. And honestly, there had always been hints: the way they treated employees, the casual abuse of power.
It made my blood boil.
I slammed the bedroom door shut, the anger radiating through every inch of me. I didn’t say a word as I motioned for Alissa to sit on the bed. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and sadness. I wanted to say something to comfort her, but no words felt sufficient.
“I’ll be back,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended.
“Holden…” she began, her voice trembling.
“Just stay here,” I interrupted, softer this time. “Please.”
She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, and I forced myself out of the room before I changed my mind and stayed with her.
When I entered the living room, my parents were still there, sitting casually as if they hadn’t just tried to tear someone apart. Denver was reclined in a chair, legs crossed, while my mother idly scrolled on her phone, looking completely unbothered.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I demanded, standing in front of them.
My father looked up, a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips as if my anger amused him.
“Wrong with us? Are you really defending that girl after everything? Oh, Holden, you’re still the same naive boy. Do you think the world is all honey and flowers?”
“She’s done nothing to you!” I shouted, my voice rising. “She was just a fifteen-year-old girl! Why do you hate her so much? It… it doesn’t make any sense. I want to understand.”
“Why?” Denver leaned forward, his tone dripping with disdain. “Because she’s a thief, Holden. An opportunist. Girls like her see people like us as stepping stones. She never deserved to be near you. Even her own parents didn’t want her, for God’s sake.”
I blinked, trying to process the absurdity of what he was saying.
“She was a child. A child, Dad. What could she have possibly done to deserve the way you’ve treated her?”
That’s when my mother laughed—a sharp, cold sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
“What’s so funny?” I turned to face her.
She put her phone down, crossing her arms as she took a step forward.
“You think she’s some innocent victim, don’t you? Poor Alissa, incapable of doing any wrong?”
“She is innocent,” I said firmly. “She’s never done anything to deserve what you’ve done to her.”
“Is that what you believe?” my mother asked, tilting her head slightly. “Do you think she’ll never do anything to disappoint you? That she’s completely incapable of manipulation or lies? Have you forgotten how she treated you? How devastated you were when she stopped talking to you?”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“Why are you like this? Why are you so obsessed with destroying her?”
“Because we did our research,” my mother said, her voice calm but cutting. “Back then, when you were so obsessed with her, we looked into her past. And you know what we found? That school she went to before the reform school—there were warnings everywhere about her.”
“Warnings?” I repeated, my fists clenching.
“Yes,” she said, almost smugly. “Teachers, administrators… they all said the same thing. Alissa was trouble. She didn’t belong there. Am I supposed to believe they were all lying, Holden?”
“They were rich,” I countered. “And they were prejudiced against her because she didn’t fit into their perfect mold. Are you seriously giving more weight to their words than to hers?”
My parents exchanged a look, and I hated the condescending smile on my father’s face.
“If she wanted so badly to be near you, why didn’t she try harder?” my mother asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “She accepted staying away from you, Holden.”
“She couldn’t!” I shouted, my voice breaking with frustration. “She was sent to that reform school. You know that!”
My mother raised an eyebrow, her expression almost mocking.
“And yet, she came back looking for you. Two years later, when she was released. She came looking for you.”
I froze.
“What are you talking about?”
“She came back,” my mother said, as if it were a simple fact. “She asked about you. Wanted to see you. It only took your father showing her a checkbook to prove we were right. She didn’t want you—she wanted money.”
“That’s a lie,” I snapped immediately, shaking my head.
“Is it?” she challenged. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
I stood there, feeling the ground shift beneath me as I tried to process what she was saying. My mind screamed that it was impossible, that they were making it up to manipulate me. But a small voice inside whispered, What if it’s true?
“Get out,” I finally ordered, my voice low but firm.
My father laughed, standing up and adjusting his jacket.
“One day, you’ll understand, son. One day, you’ll see we were just trying to protect you.”
My mother gave me one last condescending smile before following him out.
When the door closed, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. The apartment was suffocating quiet, but the storm in my head was deafening.
I didn’t know what to believe, but one thing was clear: my parents were worse than I had ever imagined. The masks they wore in public had fallen, revealing their ugly, twisted truth.
But… what they said lingered in my mind. They were capable of anything, but they had been honest about the darkness inside them as if trying to justify their principles of keeping family above all else. My father had raised me with that mantra.
And now, I wondered: Did Alissa give up on telling me the truth… for money?