Page 108 of Strange Lad

I hold my niece to me tighter. Now that I’ve got her in my arms, I’m oddly protective of this little girl. I also don’t want to spew all the ugly, horrible things I came here to with such innocence blinking up at me. Feels wrong. Like I’ll taint her somehow. “Ver, take her, please,” I croak.

My sister obliges, situating the baby before whipping out her boob. I avert my eyes instantly. “It’s natural, you weirdo. That’s what they’re for.”

Dad sighs, like he, too, is tired of seeing his daughter’s boobs. “Don’t argue with her. We are all pervs if we think it’s unusual.”

Mom sits down next to me and fingers my hair. “Trying to look like Phoenix again?” she teases. “You two were like twins, I swear.”

“No—I—” The words lodge in my throat.

I came here for a reason. Mostly to beg my mom to accompany me to the fucking police station because I’m terrified thatI’llbe the one in trouble somehow. But now that I’m here, welcomed with literal open arms, I can’t ignore the pestering guilt anymore. They deserve to know. They deserve to knowwhyI was such a horrible son. The stealing, the lies, the drugs, and the disappearances. Dr. Langley said it’s healthy to get it out. I have to get it out.

All of it.

“Mom, Dad, I…I have to tell you something.”

“You can tell us anything,” Mom chirps immediately and holds my hand. Dad adds, “What is it?”

I take a deep breath, flicking my eyes between them and my sister. “It’s not going to be good. So this is me warning you.”

Dad stiffens, glancing at Mom. “I’m going to want to kill someone, aren’t I?” he growls.

Probably, but I don’t say that.

Bracing myself, I start with Michael and Morgan’s eighteenth birthday party. The rest comes out like vomit. By the end of my purge, my mother is sobbing, Veronica has set the baby in her bouncy chair to go throw up, and my dad holds his head in his hand, shoulders shaking with silent cries. I sit perfectly still, my breaths sawing out of me, and my fingers numb from my mom’s tight grip on them.

When Dad finally lifts his head, green eyes like beacons against the bloodshot whites, a snarl rips his features in half. “Hewill notget away with this. I swear it to you.”

Jorge: I’m at the studio. It’s weird. And Phoenix is ignoring that I exist.

Do you need me? I can come.

Please.

Okay. See you soon.

See you soon. Heart Emoji

I’m already at the studio, but I figured checking was best.

Phoenix said once before that I was welcome to come. And honestly, it’s about time that I face Michael. One of the only good things about that guy is that he doesn’t look like Morgan. They are fraternal, not identical.

After my parents had calmed down enough to hear my plan, they agreed that I needed to report it. It seems like that’s the only choice I have. Morgan is going to have to pay for what he’s done to me, and I’ll sleep better knowing he isn’t doing this shit to anyone else.

Something has got to give.

Dad wanted me to go down to the station today to make the report, but there’s still more that has to be done. I need Michael to understand that his brother is a monster. I need Phoenix to stop this bullshit with Jorge. My muscles ache from how tense I’ve been today, and my guts are unsettled. I might throw up once this is all said and done, but I’ll have to white-knuckle it for now.

Getting out of my car, I swallow the dread and march for the studio.

There was a time when all I wanted was to be in Phoenix’s band. I remember practicing until the tips of my fingers bled. I could play all their first songs by heart. I guess I’m still bitter about it, maybe even a little jealous over Dreadful’s success. Phoenix has always hated being in the spotlight, but I used to love it before my life was ripped from me. Dad would have me play guitar for my grandparents on Christmas. Mom would occasionally bust out her violin so we could duet a song together.

I loved making people smile with the music I created.

That’s the past, though.

Opening up the glass door leading into the building, I look for the suite number and debate knocking once I find it. What’s the rest of their band going to think? I don’t know Devon or Kelly at all. They came around once I disappeared. Spit squirts from my glands, coating my tongue and forcing rough swallows. I open the door, creeping inside and ducking my head like that’ll make me invisible.

The chatter that hits my ears stops.

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