Page 32 of King of Ruin

“Mom.” I say it more forcefully as I approach her.

If anyone can understand the shit that makes people want to escape into a bottle or under the influence of something stronger, it’d be me. But knowing Fiona would be home right now and would see her…

Annoyance flickers in my chest. Her mind has been poisoned. Her spirit broken. And if I’m being honest, I hate that Fi and I aren’t enough to make her at least try. I hate that I’m constantly being forced to endure the worst types of abuse but told not to lose my humanity because there are people who are depending on me.

What about me?

What about the fact that my entire life has been taken and I have to be the one to suck it up?

I swallow around the burn and force my anger back into its hole. Comparing grief and hurt isn’t fair. I know this. All I can do now is do my best to keep Fiona away from it all. It means lying to her about the entirely different life I live outside of these walls, but at this point, it’s necessary. If I can’t keep Fiona’s childhood intact, no piece of advice will be enough to keep me from succumbing to it all.

Wrapping a loose hand around her upper arm, I tug softly. “Let’s get you to bed, Mom. I’ll clean this up.”

She shakes her head profusely, her cries growing louder. I purse my lips but sit next to her, draping my arm over her shoulder.

I try to shush her but it makes matters worse. She begins mumbling something to herself, and even straining I can’t make out what she’s saying.

“I can’t hear you.”

“You have to promise me you’ll get her back, Zek. Please!” Her desperate shrieks pierce into my body and latch around my heart.

“Who, Mom?”

When she responds, I can’t quite understand and pull her closer into my arms. I sit on the floor and begin rocking her slowly, brushing her hair with my hand. “Just take a breath. Slow down and tell me who.”

She does the best she can to listen and takes two shuddering breaths. But when she repeats herself, no part of me is ready for the visceral shot to the chest. “Bunny.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, willing the swelling pain to subside. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about her. About the loss. “She’s not alive, mom, remember? She was a stillborn.”

My mother jerks away from me as though I’ve hit her and aggressively wipes tears away from her face. “No. She wasn’t. Her father has her.Yourfather has her.”

That doesn’t–no. Phineas has Bunny? How does that make any sense? An odd veil of annoyance settles over me. She’s drunk and I know I shouldn’t put too much stock in her words but I ask anyway. “What are you talking about?”

“Hetookher. He took my baby so we wouldn’t leave.” Her sobs return, the booze doing a wonderful job of keeping her from being able to hold onto one emotion for long. “He lets me see her on Wednesday nights. Only when you leave. He told me that as long as we live in Washington and stay quiet about you, he’ll let me see her. But I wasn’t–oh God. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, Ezekiel. I wasn’t supposed to tell you. ”

The room spins as she grabs at my chest and begins begging for my silence. She doesn’t need to. She should know I would never do anything to hurt her. But now knowing I’ve let down the sister I didn’t even know existed?

No, she’s drunk and doesn’t know what the hell she’s saying. Maybe it’s her way of coping, or maybe she’s just that fucked up. Either way, it’s not possible.

Annoyed, I firmly wrap my fingers around her wrists and detach them from my shirt. I stand slowly and take a step away, wincing when my mother’s hand smacks against the hard floor.

“I have to get Fiona,” I tell her, turning to pick up the empty bottles on the ground. It only takes a few minutes to fix the mess she made but when I’m done, I turn to my mother. “Please go lay down, Mom. I don’t want Fi to see you like this.”

She shakes her head, her loose curls waving in front of her face.

My voice drops. “Mom. Get up.”

“Not until you promise you won’t say anything to your–”

“I won’t say anything to Phineas.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Now please, go lay down. I’ll be there in a few.”

Reluctantly, she nods and does as she’s told. When the door clicks closed behind her, I light a candle in the kitchen and turn on a lamp before going to grab Fi.

As my feet crunch on the grass beneath me, I think of the man from the docks.

“It’s the ones we love that keep us bound to it.”

I hope that’s always true for me, because deep down, somewhere in the depth of everything I know, something tells me my humanity won’t last. And all I can hope is that by then, Batman comes to kill me.

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