I was sleeping off my hang over when a sudden a bright light woke me up, searing through my closed lids. I groaned and covered myself with the duvet as I curled on my side.
"You're fired. Get out."
"I'm afraid your authority doesn't apply to me, little Angel."
I peeked through one eye and found Jude standing over me. "Ugh. Fuck off," I said, pressing a pillow to my face. "And turn the damn lights off."
"That's the sunlight," I heard him mutter before taking the pillow off my face. "Get up."
"Don't you have a bunch of meetings to get to?" I groused, kicking his hand away when he tried to pull my leg.
"I did. I just got back," he replied, trying to rip the duvet away but I clung to it. "Come on. Get up. I've made a flower bath for you."
"It's too early," I complained, feeling like shards of broken glass were grinding against my throat.
"It's two in the afternoon, Gel."
Oh.
I rolled on my back, eyeing him through squinted eyes as he stood beside the bed with the sunlight at his back. I screwed my eyes shut as they stung.
"Please, shut the fucking curtains," I bit out, dragging the duvet over my head again.
He sighed, lifting the duvet off my face and resting the bottom of a glass on my forehead. "Drink."
I wrinkled my nose. "Is it one of your disgusting smoothies?"
"It's good for you."
"Doesn't make it any less disgusting."
He sighed again, setting the glass on the bedside table. "Join me for lunch after your bath. I've asked Miss Lucille to assist you."
"Didn't she quit?"
"I would never abandon my post, Ma'am," Lucille's voice came, her husky voice so unbearably familiar.
I lifted my head and found the old hag standing behind him, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a stiff looking blouse underneath a well-tailored jacket with her hair pulled into a tight bun. She looked forgettable yet formidable, which was probably the point.
"Huh. You got a tan," I remarked wryly. "Finally used your vacation leaves, I see."
She smiled, her chapped lips spreading almost forcefully. "I was supervising the renovations of the property Master Anthony recently purchased in Spain and also trained the new caretakers. I've just returned a month ago."
"Ah, Spain," I mumbled, propping up my chin on my palm. "The women there are fucking goddesses. Jude, you should visit. Maybe they can help you remove the stick up your ass."
"My ass is fine as it is, thank you," he muttered. "Now, your bath?"
I groaned. "Isn't giving me a bath way below your pay grade, Lucy?"
"I was told an incident occurred when you were bathing yesterday," Lucille replied, formal and direct as always. "It is absolutely inexcusable that such a thing occurred under my supervision. I assure you, it will never happen again. I will personally train new maids for you but for now, I shall conduct the duties, if you would allow it of course."
I rolled my eyes, dropping my head back on my pillow. "Ugh. Whatever. Wake me up in an hour."
Jude yanked the duvet off me, throwing it to the floor. "Now, Gel, or do you want me to throw you into the tub?"
I scoffed. "You wouldn't dare."
"I picked those flowers from my garden especially for your bath," he said while pushing the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows as if in warning. "I will not have them wasted, little Angel. Get up."
I raised my palms in resignation, wincing when I sat up as my torso ached at the movement and when I lifted my shirt, I saw the large dark bruises on my abdomen. I muttered a curse and looked up to see Jude taking in my battered state. Lucille took a quick glance at me and quietly left the room, shutting the door so noiselessly behind her it was as if she was never there.
"Don't look at me," I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
"Is there anything broken?"
I gritted my teeth. "No. Get out."
"Let me see," he pressed, reaching for my shoulder.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I snapped.
He faltered, backing away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep."
I sighed, consciously calming myself down. "You didn't. Just... leave. Please."
"Let me help you into the bath, at least."
My fingers dug into the skin of my arms as I seethed. "Are you mocking me?"
"Of course not," he said softly. "I just want to help, that's all."
"And what good has that done for either of us?"
He looked away, curling his hands into fists. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop him sooner. I didn't hear anything and-"
"Jude!" I cut in. "Please, I don't want you to see me this way. I can handle myself. Leave."
He sighed. "Okay. Send for me if you need anything."
"If I need anything, Lucy will handle it."
"Alright," he mumbled quietly before heading for the door.
I cursed under my breath. "Hey," I called after him. He looked over his shoulder, his face a blank canvas. "It's not your fault. You know that, right?"
He gave me a curt smile that looked so forced it probably pained him to do it. "I know."
I shook my head in dismay. "At least try harder to pretend."
He widened his smile but still, his eyes betrayed him. No matter how much he masked the wrath inside him with a pretense of composure, it was always there in his eyes. It was fearsome, his wrath, but underneath it laid a destructive guilt. Wrath he can control but the guilt has been eating away at his sanity since the first time he witnessed our father beat me. For some reason, he blamed himself for everything Father did to me because unlike me, Father had never touched a hair on his head and it was because of that he felt somehow responsible. As if being Father's precious heir made him complicit.
"Take your time," he said, his calm tone barely able to cover the trembling rage in his chest. "I'll be at the greenhouse."
He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Lucille entered again, followed by a maid who was carrying a small desk and a stool along with a box of stationery.
I rubbed a palm down my face, annoyed. "Do I have to do that now?"
"Lady Jacqueline insisted the letters must be sent today," Lucille replied. "Any later would be considered rude and quite unbecoming of you."
I rolled my eyes. "Can't I just send a mass email or something?"
"A tangible letter of gratitude is far more intimate than one that can be simply read on a screen and it also offers you an opportunity to form relationships within your society. It's necessary for a lady of your stature, you see," she insisted politely. "In any case, you only need to dictate and Fiona here will write the letters for you."
I sighed. "Did I even have a choice to begin with?"
She smiled almost ruefully. "I'm only following orders. Now, shall we?"
She approached me as I got off the bed but I waved her away when she reached for me. I forced myself to walk, bearing the outstanding pain reverberating all over my body at each step I took towards the bathroom. Without alcohol to dull my senses and a cocktail of drugs to numb the pain, I was forced to feel everything. The mere act of breathing made it feel like my ribs were going to split open and my eardrums would burst, but still, I remained composed. At least I pretended to be.
Slowly, I raised my arms, gritting my teeth as my shoulders and back exploded with blinding pain that nearly had my knees buckling but I held myself firmly, refusing to be humiliated in front of anyone.
Lucille worked wordlessly and swiftly, stripping my shirt off without even laying a single finger on my body while the maid set up the desk and stool beside the tub. I let out a sigh of relief once I settled into the bath, the ice cubes in the water soothing my muscles and numbing the pain. Lucille took out a small case, revealing a syringe when she opened it. She touched my arm tentatively, as if asking for permission. I sighed and took the syringe. I bent my leg, making sure not to press any buttons on my ankle monitor.
Pressing the needle between my toes, I took a deep breath before pushing drug into my vein but the mercy I longed for didn't come at the beckoning of morphine. It wasn't instant release. It was fucking nothing.
I threw the syringe aside and leaned back, calming myself down. Getting pissed off in my state would only cause more pain.
"Smoke," I ordered.
Both of them produced a pack of my brand of cigarettes from the pocket of their skirts at once and simultaneously tapped out a stick from the box before offering it to me. I rolled my eyes and took one from Lucille while the maid lit up the cigarette for me.
I sighed, tilting my head back as Lucille started tending to my hair.
"Fiona, was it?" I directed to the maid.
"Yes, Miss Lastor."
"How many are on the list?"
"Two hundred and seventy, Ma'am."
"Fuck me." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cross out the names of those who wrote a check for the Lastor Foundation. Make a note to send them invitations to this year's Donor's Ball as my guests instead. Lucy, call the LF fundraising committee office for assistance."
She nodded while Fiona began scanning through the list, crossing out names along the way.
"How many left?" I asked when she was done.
"One hundred and seventeen."
I clicked my tongue against my teeth. "Cross out the Lastor family and just send them flowers. They won't give a damn anyway." She scanned the list again and I waited as she crossed out more names. "How many?"
"Sixty seven."
"That will do." I took a drag from my cigarette, closing my eyes as I submerged myself further until only my head remained above the water. "Let's start in order of importance."
We began the tedious task of writing sixty seven letters filled with flowery bullshit for supposedly important people that I either didn't even know or give a damn about, pretending to be grateful for their unwanted extravagant gifts all the while, Lucille scrubbed every inch of skin she was allowed to touch, carefully treading along the line of scars on my body. When she was done and I was sitting in front of the vanity mirror, with her methodically tending to my injuries, I took in the result of my father's beating.
The bruises had appeared overnight and when I touched my side, I grimaced as the tender flesh ached. He had probably bruised a rib or two. I turned, gritting my teeth at the sight of fresh wounds covering my back while my arms and legs were covered with red welts from the lashings I received.
The only thing he hadn't damaged was my face, which was most likely on purpose, and I managed to appreciate that sliver of consideration, even if it was done for his own benefit. One time in middle school, the makeup I had worn to cover the bruises on my face got washed off during swim class and my teacher, bless her bleeding fucking heart, called Social Services, absolutely hysterical after forcing me to show her the full extent of my injuries. Father had to spend a small fortune to cover up that fiasco and I ended up being beaten to the brink of death as a consequence. I ran away that night and lived on the streets for several months, getting by through pickpocketing until the cops finally caught me dumpster diving behind a diner in some small town in Louisiana.
And then I was back to square one, only then the beatings got worse but at least I learned the three things I've lived by since. One; always use waterproof makeup. Two; if ever confronted by the police, don't run because they'll either chase you or shoot you just cuz. Three; submit to Father completely.
Life is all about gaining wisdom from mistakes, and all that crap.
"Miss Lastor?" I heard Fiona call. I blinked, turning away from the mirror to look at her. "Your signature, please."
I took the paper and swiveled my signature at the bottom of the letter. "Tell me we're close."
"Fifteen left, Ma'am."
I groaned in frustration. "Just make shit up for me and I'll sign them." She pursed her lips, glancing at Lucille. Insulted, I kicked her desk, the letters flying into the air and scattering across the floor. "Who the fuck do you think I am?" I bit out as I stood over her. "Lucy may run this fucking place but I own it. The only authority of value in this room is mine, you get me, bitch?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yes, Miss Lastor. Forgive me."
I scoffed. "Just write the damn letters," I spat. "Rude fucking bitch." Lucille was quietly drying my hair with a towel and I shoved her away. "You trying to scalp me or some shit? Jesus."
"I'm sorry. I'll-"
"Fuck off," I cut in, grabbing the towel from her hand. "I'll do it myself. Get out. Both of you."
She glanced at Fiona who was crawling on the floor and picking up the letters. I screamed a series of expletives in my mother tongue and she quickly got to her feet, running out the door with Lucille calmly following behind. The moment it closed, I went inside my closet and grabbed my boots from the rack of unused shoes. I reached my hand inside the left boot and felt the plastic packet pressed against the toe. I grasped it between my fingers and took it out, the mere sight of the white powder calming me instantly.
I sat in front of the vanity, pouring a generous line of white powder onto the hand mirror. I spotted a blank paper on the floor the maid had left behind and cut it in half before rolling it neatly.
Gathering my hair with one hand, I leaned down, pressing one end of the rolled up paper against my nostril with the other directly at the bottom of the line. I swallowed, wetting my throat before inhaling sharply, the rolled up paper following the line. I tilted my head back, rubbing my nose as I shivered at the feel of my blood pumping wildly as the effects of the drug surged through me instantly.
"We're okay," I whispered in satisfaction. I looked at myself in the mirror, letting out a calming breath. "We're okay."
I got dressed and headed out to the greenhouse where Jude always spent his time in whenever we visited, finding him hunched over the ground and planting something new again while his aide watered the rest of the flowers. The stereo was playing blues and the subtle mistakes and hesitation in the rhythm irritated me. I turned the damn thing off.
"Are you deaf or ignorant?" I said in disgust. "Why are you listening to that disgraceful crap? If you're gonna listen to blues, ask Andy to get you a copy of her music."
"That was you playing just now," he muttered as he filled a pot with manure.
"Like I said, it's a disgrace."
He sighed. "Your music was and still is beautiful, Gel." He lifted his head, glancing at me. "The only disgraceful thing you ever did was stopping."
"I will not have a mediocre amateur who can't even play a single note properly preach to me about music," I said, taking a seat on a bench by the rose bed.
He chuckled, dusting himself off as he stood. "I admit, I never could do what you were able to do when it came to music but then again, no one could have possibly rivaled your passion for it." He set the pot beside the rows of seedlings, making sure they were all perfectly aligned. "I will never understand why you continue to deprive yourself of it."
I rolled my eyes and opened the stereo's CD slot. I took the disk and snapped it in two before tossing them to the ground.
"Stop fucking with my shit, yeah?"
He sighed, picking up the pieces. "I was only borrowing, I didn't think you cared. You have all your work locked up in storage anyway."
"You were supposed to burn them, not store them," I said in frustration.
"I would never harm the environment so thoughtlessly," he said, sounding positively offended.
"Says the guy who owns a bazillion sports cars."
He rolled his eyes. "Let's eat." He glanced at his aide. "Set us a table at the gazebo, will you, Luis?"
"Yes, sir," he responded before heading out of the greenhouse, offering a nod of greeting as he passed me.
"Your hair is still dripping," Jude muttered as he pulled his gardening gloves off. "I told Miss Lucille to dry your hair properly."
"She's always too rough. I didn't want to go bald so I told her not to bother."
"Then at least dry it yourself."
I mocked a gasp. "And lift a finger? How could you suggest such a heinous thing, dear brother?"
He placed a hand on the top of my head and leaned down until we were eye to eye. "If you get sick, I'll put you in the ICU and have an army of nurses watching you round the clock." He kissed my forehead. "Dry your hair."
I pulled a face, pushing his hand off. "Gross. You were just touching cow shit."
He chuckled lightly. "I have some documents for you to sign. I'll just change and we can go over them."
I cleared my throat forcefully, sidling up next to him as we headed out of the greenhouse. "I distinctly remember us having an agreement of sorts, no?" He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I held my end. It's your turn."
"The deal was you had to stay until the end of the party."
"No, it was to not sneak out till the end of the party," I corrected. "You didn't say I had to participate for the entire party."
"It was implied."
I clicked my tongue against my teeth. "You should have made it clearer then. People tend to misinterpret words, you know."
He sighed in resignation. "Fine, but you can't have the bike until your license is renewed. I already sent in the paperwork but it's gonna take at least two weeks."
I groaned. "Seriously?"
"But Mrs. Roberts is reinstalling your door at the moment."
"Do I at least get to have a lock this time?"
His jaw ticked. "No."
"Come on. You still pissed about the whole threesome thing? Cuz I already promised it won't happen again, at least not whenever you're around."
"You know it's not about that."
I shook my head in dismay, stuffing my hands inside the pockets of my jacket. "You still don't trust me."
"I trust you. I just can't risk losing you again."
"You honestly think I'd kill myself within your vicinity?" I asked, arching a brow. "You've stopped enough of my attempts for me to know better, brother."
"Am I supposed to take comfort in that?"
"People rarely find comfort in truth but it doesn't make it any less true," I murmured. "As long as you're with me, I would never be so foolish to take my life. Your heroic complex is far too reliable and bothersome to challenge."
"Why does it feel like you're blackmailing me?"
"More bargaining than blackmailing, actually."
"When it comes to you, I can never tell."
Lifting my head, I forced a smile, ignoring the pained look on his face. "Stop worrying. I'm okay."
He sighed, shaking his head. "How many times are you going to keep telling yourself that, Gel?"
I kept the smile still as it broke. "As many times as I have to until you believe me."
He looked away. "Never." He shook his head, walking away. "I will never believe you."
"I still want a lock!" I called after him but he didn't respond.
Closing my eyes briefly, I held onto the will to keep going. I had to live for him, no matter how exhausting and painful it had become.
I went to the gazebo as the servants were finishing up with setting the table and read today's paper while drinking my coffee. As one of the maids was setting my plate and utensils, I noticed she was wearing a thin scarf that was not part of their uniform. I glanced at her face, seeing the distracting amount of makeup she was wearing so clearly even though they were only permitted to wear a thin coat of powder and a faint colored lipstick.
"Aren't you one of Mother's personal maids?" I muttered as I flipped the page. "You rarely leave her side. Quite odd to have you serving us and leaving my poor mother to fend for herself."
"Madame Jacqueline went to the city to meet with a friend. She told me to assist you and Lord Jude while she was gone," she replied monotonously, her thick accent heavy on her tongue.
"You mean she ordered you to spy on us."
She stiffened. "No, Ma'am. She-"
"Don't lie. It's insulting." I picked up my cup and took a light sip. "What did she want to know?" She glanced warily towards the other maids who were quietly placing the food on the table. "Don't worry. They know what happens if they piss me off. Question is, do you?"
She pursed her lips, submitting to me so easily it was almost embarrassing. "She was curious about the man you were with during the party."
Frowning, I recollected the foggy memory of one Frederick Richardson. I couldn't remember most of his face, considering my intoxicated state last night, but parts of him that I could remember were quite... interesting. How he could dare to look me in the eye without faltering. How his rose scented aftershave still lingered in my senses. How he obviously didn't care about my name. His infuriating pestering of my so called story. Most of all, his blatant rejection of me. How could I forget the only person who's ever said no to fucking me? It was a shame he just had to be friends with my brother. It would have been fun to play with him for a while but alas, he was an untouchable.
Noticing that the maid was staring at me, I lifted the paper and feigned to read. "He was a toy. I was bored. What's so curious about it?"
"I... I don't know. She said it was... unusual."
I frowned. "Yeah, I think so too."
"Really?"
I bit my tongue, realizing I had spoken aloud. "Enough about me. What about you?" I pulled the flimsy scarf off her neck and the sight of bruises around her throat confirmed my suspicions. "You're either getting way into rough sex or you made Mommy dearest very upset."
Her eyes snapped to mine. "I... I…"
"Quit? Sure."
"No!" she protested immediately. "Please, I have a daughter. I... I need this job."
I frowned. "You dumb or some type of shit?" Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes and I instantly regretted letting myself care for even a second. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Like I care."
Annoyed, I carried on reading the paper and ignored her flustering about. Jude came out a few minutes later, dressed in a cashmere sweater and freaking khakis of all things, with Luis trailing behind him. As we ate, we started going through the documents relating to the business ventures being conducted by Dahlia Holdings, the hedgefund firm Jude founded and I was made part owner of by virtue of him investing my trust fund into the firm, and I listened halfheartedly to his explanations, signing whatever he put in front of me with no care.
The maid was refilling his cup but as if her fingers suddenly lost strength, she dropped the kettle, spilling the boiling hot coffee all over the table. Jude jumped, just barely avoiding having his skin burned. She gasped, grabbing a towel and muttering apologies.
I grabbed her wrist, stilling her. She flinched and I loosened my grip. "It's hot. Don't touch it."
"But it will stain."
I glanced at the elegant white silk tablecloth, picturing Lucille strangling the maid with it. "It's already ruined. Leave it be."
"I… I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what? Being in so much pain you can hardly stand let alone wait on us?" I smiled. "That's not your fault, sweetheart."
"Angel," Jude called questioningly.
"Isn't it disgusting?" I mumbled, grasping her chin and tilting her head back. I brushed my thumb against her cheek, feeling the thick layer of foundation she sloppily put on to cover the bruises. "While she sacrifices her dignity and pride to serve this family just to earn a meager salary barely enough to survive off on, you're wearing a watch that can easily feed her family for a year with ample change to spare."
I passed Jude a brief glance before pushing her sleeve up, revealing patches of dark bruises all over her skin. I took her hands, inspecting the dead nails and torn skin that probably came from Mother stepping on her hands for making a mistake and I bet her toenails were even worse off. That has always been Mother's favorite punishment.
"Two of her fingers are broken, three are dislocated, the nails are irreparable due to repeated damage and complete disregard for aftercare. Her left wrist is deformed and the muscles are dying. The injury must have been left unattended for at least a week already."
I brought her hands closer to my face and sniffed at her fingers. The smell was revolting.
"The cuts on her fingers and the dead nails have been festering for quite some time, basing from the odor and color of the puss. I suggest she be removed from serving and handling food immediately."
I pressed my fingers up her arm and felt a swelling on her shoulder. She whimpered.
"Her shoulder is dislocated as well."
I grabbed a table knife and tore her sleeve off, inspecting the ugly bruising and disfiguring on her shoulder.
"From the discoloration of the bruise, it's been approximately four days since the injury and the clotting of blood in the area suggests blunt force trauma from a heavy object." I looked at her. "I'm gonna reduce the dislocation. Bite your tongue and try to relax."
I raised her arm, bending it slightly to reach her opposite shoulder. She cried out as the bones popped back in place.
"Movement should be less painful now but you're gonna need medical attention to avoid complete loss of mobility on the limb. Your fingers however are gone and need to be cut off or else the infection will spread." I let go of her. "Good luck living a crippled life."
"Who did this?" Jude demanded, approaching her.
She was frozen, visibly fearing for her life as she trembled and attempted to hold back her tears.
"She will never say," I said. "Their NDA enforces their disregard and silence towards any form of abuse committed towards or in front of them, after all." I took a piece of sliced strawberry from the fruit bowl and dipped it into the cream. "Did you touch this?" I asked her. She shook her head and I popped the fruit in my mouth.
"This is unacceptable!" Jude said vehemently.
I scoffed. "What are you gonna do about it? Report your own mother to the police?"
"No, no, please. It's nothing," she begged, dropping to the ground on her knees. "Madame Jacqueline did nothing wrong. It was my fault. Please, don't report me. I can't lose this job. Please, sir."
"How pitiful," I muttered as she practically kissed my brother's feet. "She doesn't even realize she's been ruined. I gotta say, it's quite a flawless handiwork. Mother really knows her craft. My toys always go insane after I play with them. It's such a hassle."
"Angel, be quiet," Jude chided as he tried to pick her up from the ground. "It's alright," he assured her. "You're okay. I won't hurt you." He turned to Luis. "Escort her to her room and call the family doctor. Have him examine her."
"No. Please," she cried pathetically. "You can't tell anyone. Please."
"You need to be treated or your injuries will get worse," he said soothingly.
"I'm okay! I can work. I promise," she insisted. "Please, let me work."
I sighed, losing interest in her drama. I grabbed the collar of her blouse and pulled her to me.
"Quiet," I ordered. She swallowed her cries instantly. "You're fired. You'll receive your severance pay by the end of the week. Go to Lucille for further instructions and then after that, Luis will take you to a house where you will receive medical care. Once you've made a full recovery, you'll be entitled to go home if you want to. Travel expenses will be paid for by us, of course. But if you choose to stay, you will contact my household manager, Teresa Hagen, and apply for employment as a maid at one of my homes. Do you understand?" She nodded. I pulled her closer. "Answer me with words, idiot."
"Yes, Miss Lastor."
"Let's just be clear, this ain't no favor. I am not doing this out of the kindness of my cold little black heart. I'm not just being nice here. You are indebted to me. One day, I will collect and you will pay." I let her go. "Contact Terry and have her instruct the caretakers of my house in Long Island to make arrangements for your arrival," I ordered to Luis.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Wait, no. I can't leave," the maid protested, as if realizing what she'd just agreed to. "The Madame said I can't leave. She'll be mad. I have to stay."
Out of patience, I slapped her with the back of my hand.
"Angel!" Jude bit out. I ignored him.
"Remember this," I said firmly, holding her gaze. "Remember the burning on your cheek. Relish it. Feel it to the depths of your bones. Every time you feel like you need to be hit or beaten, remember this moment. Any time someone tries to cause you harm, remember the pain you're feeling. And then remind yourself that you don't deserve it. Keep reminding yourself until you believe it and one day, you won't need it anymore."
She nodded, staring dumbly at me. I waved a hand and Luis took her, gently helping her up and guiding her back inside the mansion. I poured myself a glass of water and popped another piece of fruit in my mouth.
"Did you have to be so harsh?" Jude asked.
I scoffed. "Her mind has been broken. She's surrendered herself to Mother completely. The only thing she can respond to is fear and pain. She's incapable of comprehending sympathy now." I lit up a cigarette, sighing. "Lucy really needs to screen the maids better. People like her can't survive this place. Their minds are too weak and easily broken."
"Do you know her name?"
"Sarah Torres. Filipina. Thiry-eight. Married. One child, a nine year old named Kimberly. She's been Mother's personal maid for five years now," I responded. He glanced at me, giving me an odd look. I shrugged. "I use Lucy's employee records to blackmail the maids."
"How long have you known about her... situation?"
"I've suspected for a while now," I said as I picked at another slice of fruit. "But she never leaves Mother's side so there was really no way to confirm it or even do anything."
"You could have told me," he chided.
"I didn't have to," I fired back."Whether you admit or not, you already knew. You just didn't want to acknowledge it because acknowledging it means you'll have to face the fact that our mother is capable of such cruelty." He lowered his eyes almost in shame. "Mother is kind, generous, patient, and suffocatingly affectionate. But only to you. She spares no mercy to everyone else."
He dragged a palm down his face, sighing. "I'll talk to her."
"If you do, you'll only subject the rest of them to her wrath and you won't be here to stop her."
"What are we supposed to do then?" he asked in frustration.
I sighed. "Nothing." I propped my elbow on the table and rested my jaw on my palm as I set my gaze on the mansion. "This is the life we have. The abuse will never end unless we betray our parents, which neither of us will ever do. Our devotion and loyalty to them is a tragedy to us and everyone else." I glanced at him. "Aren't we just pathetic?"
"What if I did it?" he asked, leaning back against his seat and regarding me with a calm gaze. "I love Mother but I've made it clear to her that if push comes to shove, I will choose you over her. Not just because you're my sister, but because you're my right hand. Your value to me exceeds everyone else. If I betray her, will you do the same with Father?"
I chuckled inwardly, looking at my brother in wry amusement. "You still don't get it, don't you?" I murmured ruefully as I shook my head. "There's no fight. They already won. They have everything. I have nothing left inside because they've taken everything. I'm dead, Jude. I've been dead for years."
He let out a harsh breath, raking a hand through his hair. "You're not dead. Stop saying that."
I smiled, shaking my head. "I am. You don't have to die to lose your life. I've lost mine years ago. I'm nothing but a mere shell with a cold beating heart."
"Stop talking like that. You sound-" He pursed his lips, not daring to say it out loud.
"Insane?" I chuckled. "Maybe I am." I shrugged. "No one could live like this for so long and still be sane. I'm too far gone to be fixed. It's too late. I've already lost the life I've been struggling to keep. Look me in the eye... you'll see there's no more life inside me. I'm nothing."
He looked at me for a moment before turning away. He inhaled deeply, letting it out audibly through his lips. "Little Angel..." he hissed through gritted teeth. "Are you high right now?" he bit out, his voice strained as if he was holding back from screaming.
I paused for a moment, my lips pursing together. He glanced at me, his eyes narrowed, blazing with fury.
"Are. You. High," he repeated, hissing every syllable.
I nodded slowly, my nose suddenly becoming tingly. He took a moment, breathing deep conscious breaths with his eyes closed.
"Jude…"
He rolled his neck, his jaw clenched tightly. "Don't," he said when I reached for his hand.
I drew back, placing my hands on my lap. "You're angry," I said as I looked at him.
He chuckled but the sound of it was empty. "Trust me, little Angel. Angry doesn't cover how I feel right now," he spat, his voice harsh.
"I'm sorry."
He laughed out loud as if my pathetic apology amused him. "You're sorry?" he mocked. "If you're so sorry then why do you keep doing this to yourself? To me?" he snarled. "You know what? I'm not even going to start a rant because you're not going to listen to me anyways. You never do."
"You don't understand."
"I do and I hate that you're doing this to yourself because of him," he spat, shaking his head. "Give it to me," he ordered, his hand held out in front of me. I looked at him in confusion. "The drugs, Gel. Give it to me."
I opened my mouth to protest but his glare had me digging into the pocket of my jeans and taking out the small plastic packet filled with white powder.
"This?" he spat out, dangling it in the air. "This isn't your friend. This is poison and it will destroy you," he hissed, tearing the packet open and dumping the powder in his coffee.
I gasped, reaching across the table. "What the fuck, Jude?! That was two hundred bucks!"
He grabbed the cup and tossed it to the ground. I got up to salvage whatever was left but he grabbed my arm, stilling me.
"You listen to me well, little Angel..." he hissed while gripping my arm tightly. "I won't give up on you. I will be here every fucking day to take away those things. I'm going to remind you every chance that I get that I'm here. Any time you need me, I'm here. I won't stop and I won't go away. I don't care how long I have to keep doing this if it means I get to have my sister back by the end. You can hurt me all you want. Hate me. I don't give a shit. But I will never give up on you. Got that?" He shoved me to the side as I held onto the urge to wring his neck. "Now shut up and stop crying. I know you'll get your fix by the end of the day and I'll be here to ruin your high for you. And when I find out who supplies you, trust me, I will kill that good for nothing piece of shit for feeding your addiction."
"I hate you."
"Like I said, I don't give a shit."