Page 8 of Black Hearts
That dream wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Daddy had trapped my mom down here, chained her up until he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and then he’d killed her, stabbed her over and over…
Among other things.
Would he do that to me? Would I become his next victim? This was what Markus had saved me from, this cruel, terrible fate at the hands of my own father. I’d never really comprehended just how awful Daddy was, not until now.
If he could turn on his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, he was certainly not the kind of man who deserved an ounce of respect or obedience from me. All those girls he’d killed… Mom… his reign of terror needed to end. I knew it now. We couldn’t go on like this.
I looked all around, finding a toilet next to the bed. No sink. The basement was a pretty empty place, besides that. No windows. Nothing in reach I could use to free myself. The shackle curled around my wrist was so tight I couldn’t hope to pull my hand through, no matter how I finagled my fingers. The skin underneath it was already starting to rub raw.
A part of me wanted to call out to him, to bring Daddy down here and demand to know what this was all about, but I found my voice was dry. Whether that was because I’d been suffocated or because I already knew didn’t matter.
There was no turning back from this. No undoing this. Coming back here had surely set this into motion; it had been only a matter of time before this happened, before Daddy turned on me. There was nothing he could’ve said that would make this better. Short of letting me go and delivering me back to the Scott house, there was nothing he could do.
But he wouldn’t. After all this time, my whole life, I was finally realizing what kind of man he was, and Daddy was not the type of man who ever admitted his wrongdoings. He was kind of like the Scotts in that respect, and that was something that should chill me to my bones—but it didn’t.
There was a single difference between Daddy and the Scott men: I loved them, and what love I used to have for Daddy had faded into a pit of nothingness and despair, something that could rival hatred.
So, no, I didn’t call out for him. I didn’t say or do anything other than sit there and wait. He would come down. He would come see me. I just didn’t know how long it would be, whether he’d try to starve me out to recondition me to his liking, or if he’d simply try to kill me.
I wasn’t his daughter anymore. If given the choice, I would choose anybody else in this world before I would choose him.
Even though the basement was lit by a single yellow bulb, having the light did nothing to help pass the time. I could only get off the bed so far as to use the toilet, and doing that was hard enough, thanks to my left hand being chained to the bed. The only thing I had to keep myself company with was my own thoughts. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for my mom, knowing I was up there with Daddy, having chosen him over her.
I’d been so stupid. So, so stupid.
I couldn’t say how much time passed before I heard the door to the basement creak open, but it had to be a while. My stomach hurt from hunger, and my lips were dry from dehydration. Daddy hadn’t shown his face to give me food or water since dinner, and God knew if that had been hours ago or more.
My bet was on more.
Daddy came down the stairs—and he didn’t hold a tray of food. When I saw his empty hands, my heart dropped. So he was going to torture me, then. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand to be like this. Everything in me hurt, my head and stomach especially… but I supposed that was the point.
He rounded the stairs on the far side of the basement, turning toward me. He came up to me, sat at the base of the bed, and gave me a tired smile. “I wanted things to be different for us,” he said, his hands resting on his knees. He wore slacks, something I hardly ever saw him in, along with a nice polo shirt. He’d shaved, cut his hair short. He looked more awake now than he did before, almost like he’d resigned himself to this, to what he was doing to me.
“And I wanted a dad who didn’t lie,” I whispered.
“Well, I think we both know enough now,” Daddy said, his eyes practically pinning me in place. “You don’t always get what you want in this world. I might’ve lied to you, but I did it out of necessity. The world corrupts you, makes you impure. It takes your soul and crushes it, turns it black. It did that to your mother, and I wanted to save you from it.”
“Is that why you kept her down here? Is that why you killed her?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Because she wouldn’t listen to you?”
“I did what was best for her.”
“Did you? Or did you do what you thought was best for you?” I struggled to keep the venom from my tone. There was a difference between the Scotts and Daddy. The Scotts might take pleasure in what they did, but at the end of the day, killing was a job—usually. That poor man who Markus had brought to the basement to try to prove his point aside.
Now, what Daddy did? All those girls didn’t have to die. They could’ve still been alive, living their lives and being happy. There was no justifiable reason as to why they had to die. The same could be said about my mom, too.
Daddy’s hands clenched into fists. “I only wanted to keep her safe, but I realized I couldn’t. Sometimes death is the only way to set something free.” He then turned his head to look at me again, and this time I caught what he didn’t say. That stare was the kind of stare a man gave to someone when he’d given up all hope.
Death was the only way to set something free.
“Are you going to kill me now?” I questioned, my voice cracking. This time, I could not hide the fear that had crept into my system, made my heart start to beat faster. I stared at a man I did not recognize, the man who had both given me life and now debated on taking it away.
He didn’t say anything right away. His jaw was firm and tense, his lips drawn into a thin line. He did not stare at me like a father should watch over his daughter. No, he gazed at me like a crazed predator would. Finally, he spoke a single word, and that word made my stomach drop to the floor: “Yes.”
I couldn’t say anything to that. I couldn’t plead with him or beg him not to. The only thing I could do was stare, my mouth agape. He’d taken me away from the Scotts just so he could kill me? What was the point of it all?
It became too much for me, that stare, knowing what he did, and how he’d taken me away from the men I loved. I said, “If this is how it’s going to end, why bother taking me from Markus? Why not just leave me there and move on?”
“Because if I can’t have you, no one can!” Daddy got to his feet, shouting the words at me. He rushed to where I sat near the pillows, taking my neck in his hands and squeezing hard. “Because if I can’t show you the way, the only other thing I can do is release you.”
