Page 37 of Pretty Poison

Her eyes droop as tears fill them, regret squeezes at my heart. “They’re not replacing anyone,” she says with a whisper-yell. “Your sisters are dead, Dario, and I feel that pain every single day. It’s something I have to live with more than you do. I carried them for almost nine months, I fed them, nurtured them and raised them until they died. They will always, always be my babies, but they’re gone, Dario and there’s not one thing you can do to change that. Nobody can change it.”

“Don’t you feel it’s repeating a cycle, though?” I ask in a hushed voice, a lump forming in my throat. “Two girls to take the places of the ones we lost.”

“I want you to know that nothing, not even these babies, will ever—and I mean ever—take their places. They were the babies of the family, even when Cass came along and that will never change. They might not be here with us anymore, but they will always live within our hearts.” She pauses for a moment to release a shaky sigh. “When the babies are born, they will have similar features to Scarlett and Serra and I don’t want any of you to hate them for it. I want you to love them anyway, as your father and I will. They will become their own people with their own personalities and I don’t want you to hold them in your sisters’ shadows.”

“I promise to try, but that’s the best I can offer right now.”

She smiles, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “I know you will, my sweet boy.” She places a delicate kiss on my forehead.

Rising to my feet, I embrace her, my jaw tensing in an attempt to numb the pain in my throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mama,” I say before exiting the living room and out the front door, back to my house.

∞∞∞

“What’s up your ass?” Liana’s soft voice reaches my ears.

Glancing up at her in my doorway, she stands there with her arms folded across her body, her anger still evident from earlier.

“Not now, Liana,” I answer, defeated. “It’s been a long and tiresome day. I want to be alone right now, so please, leave.”

She flinches at my request, her head recoiling backward. “D-did you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.” She takes a small step forward, stopping on the threshold of my room.

“I appreciate the gesture, but not tonight. I need to be alone with my thoughts.”

“I know how you feel, but I really think—”

“You don’t know shit,” I accuse, my voice raising and again, she flinches, this time harder. “You don’t know anything about anything, especially not me or my family. So please, for the love of God, would you just piss off?”

I approach her in the doorway, and she steps backward, allowing me to close the door in her face.

She scoffs from beyond the closed door, and then stomps down the hallway to her room.

I’ll admit, it was a dickish move, but she’s a persistent little thing and I don’t need her prying into my deepest, darkest thoughts. Not when they’ve all become raw tonight.

Heading back to my bed, I collapse backward, my head hitting the pillow and my body sprawls across the sheets.

As I close my eyes to inhale deeply, their faces solidifying in my mind—their wide smiles, deep green eyes, Scarlett’s freckles and Serra’s red hair. While they were the spitting image of each other, they were their very own people. They loved with everything they had, always believing in second chances, and Antonio stole that from them. My sperm donor tore them apart on an emotional level, then recreated it physically.

I appreciate Liana’s offer to try and make me feel better, but nothing will ever fill the void they left in our lives—not my new baby sisters, not my niece or nephew, and not her. That hole is reserved for them. It’s a personal reminder that I won’t stop until that bastard is dead and buried so deep in the ground that not even the devils that walk the earth could find him. He’s a wicked, narcissistic, pathetic excuse for a man, and it will bring me great fucking pleasure to show him exactly what I think of him.

Opening my eyes again, their faces fade from view and a tear falls, rolling down my cheek. It carries sadness, anger and hatred, and I roughly thumb it away.

He’s somewhere laughing; I know he is. It’s been almost seven years without them, and while we’re in pain, he’s thriving; the thought of him living while they aren’t makes my heart squeeze and my lungs feel restricted.

Even after all these years, he’s still winning. He wanted to hurt my mother and in turn, damaged every single person who ever knew and loved my sisters. He’s created an army of people that want his head on a pike. But me? I want that shit as a trophy, a remembrance that while he wrecked my family, I ended his life. It’ll be a warning to those who wish to do us harm. If—no,whenI kill him, I’ll rest easy knowing he’s dead. If I die in the process, so be it. I’d hate for my mother to lose another child, but if it’snecessary for the greater good, it’s something I’m willing to do. It’s something that I will die for, something I will achieve, even if it costs me my life.

Eighteen

LIANA

Returning to my room, I push aside the anger that floods through me and resist the urge to slam the door behind me. Who does he think he is? A god? No—he’s just a man with serious anger issues; like fuck, he’s shown his true colours these past few days.

Even still, something within me screams to be in his presence for a few seconds longer than my brain wants me to be. It’s like something is drawing me to him; my head and that ‘something’ constantly butting heads until the ‘something’ prevails.

I can tell he’s distressed, but I don’t understand why, and unless he tells me, I never will. Like he said, he trusts me as much as I trust him, which isn’t much right now. We know very little about each other and yet I yearn to wriggle through his tough exterior and get to know more about him. If I can, maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to make him the man I know he can be. He might seem harsh, stubborn and angry the majority of the time, but I believe with the right mindset, he’ll be the man I know he is beneath it all. By no means am I trying to change him, just better him. But if he keeps shutting me out, it’ll never happen.

Stripping down to nothing, I wrap a towel around me, grab the bare necessities toiletry-wise and saunter down the hall to hisroom again. Knocking twice, I wait for him to open the door and try to gather the courage to face him with a sweet façade.

Swinging his door open with a tough grip around the doorknob, he takes one glance at me and steps aside, silently granting me entry.

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