Page 104 of Sweet Poison

As I keep walking the streets, my mind drifts back to the laughter of the O'Sullivan’s home, how they made me feel like part of their family, even if it was only for a little while. I squeeze my eyes shut against the angry tears that threaten to spill. Leaving them feels like I’m losing something I can’t get back.

Something precious.

I glance up at a digital clock on a nearby building, its hands creeping closer to midnight, each tick echoing in my chest like a reminder that a new year is fast approaching and I have nothing— no one. I wish I could just disappear into the crowd, leaving thoughts of Willow and the home I had for a short while—the place where I found safety and warmth. Now all of that is gone.

I shuffle along the snow-covered sidewalk, my shoes soaked from the slush, and I think about where to go next. The streets I’ve known all my life feel foreign now, each corner a reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t ever go back to the O' Sullivan’s; I know that. But standing here, alone and hungry, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find that warmth again.

I don’t think so…

As I walk, the chill of the night wraps around me, freezing not just my body but my heart. With each step, thoughts of Willow’s smile— the way it would light up whenever she saw me— become more distant, more painful, like a memory I can’t hold onto.

I can’t hold onto the magic of her.

Because that magic shattered when my miserable brother found me—found them. My stomach twists with that never fading anger at the thought of him, the way he threatened Willow and her mother. He didn’t care about the warmth they gave me, the way they treated me like family. All he saw was a chance to control me, to drag me back into the same shitty life where he could beat on me and starve me all he wanted. The bastard only thought of himself, his power over me, and it makes my blood boil. I should have been able to stay with my fairy, to feel safe, but instead, I’m all alone on these freezing streets, haunted by what could have been.

I could’ve had a real family.

A shot at a good life.

Now all of that is gone.

I want to scream, to make Milton understand how much he ruined everything, how he took away my chance at happiness.

But that would be useless, all I can do is keep walking while bitterness takes hold of my heart.

As I trudge down the street, the glow from a nearby Italian restaurant catches my eye. I pause, peering through the frosted glass. Inside, a family of six sits around a table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Everyone inside the restaurant is smiling, clinking their glasses while their faces are flushed with joy.

My stomach grumbles as I watch them savor their meals, and the sight of their appetizing food makes my mouth water. I can almost taste the roasted chicken, the buttery mashed potatoes, the tres leches cake.

I’m so hungry.

I look at the TV inside the restaurant and notice it’s almost midnight.

While my heart becomes cold and harsh, the atmosphere around me grows electric. The laughter and the cheer just mock me. When the clock strikes twelve, the dark sky erupts in a burst of color, fireworks lighting up the night. People cheer and embrace, their joy ringing through the air while feeling excited for the new year.

But instead of celebrating, I keep my head down while walking. I have to keep moving, find a place to escape the cold night and my next meal.

I think about where to go—maybe a warm alley, somewhere that protects me from the cold. Somewhere I can curl up and pretend I’m safe. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, my breath visible in the cold air as I move further away from the laughter and light and toward the lonely, and painful dark.

Nine hours and fifty minutes.That’s how long it took me to get here. To my past.

I’m sitting in my car, staring at the mansion. Not the angry boy I used to be, but a man who’s actually made something of himself. Doesn’t matter how much I’ve accomplished, though—this place, it still holds some kind of power over me. Every inch of it still takes my breath away, like it did back then.

The mansion hasn’t changed one bit. The ivy’s still creeping up the stone walls, stubborn as hell, like it’s never going anywhere. If you follow those vines, they’ll lead you straight to the garden where I spent way too many goddamn hours as a kid.

The O’Sullivan Mansion.

Willow’s home.

Sunlight dances off the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, each flash of light reminding me of the magic this place held in my childhood imagination.

The magic Willow brought back to my life.

I glance at the gates, where two men—thugs in every sense of the word—guard the entrance. They size me up the second I pull into view, like I’m some kind of threat. I couldn’t care less. I’m not some kid anymore. I’m a man. Not a boy. And that means I don’t flinch at their scrutiny.

One of them opens his mouth. “State your business.”

I don’t even blink. “I’m here to see… the Godfather.”

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