Page 48 of Bound

Franco was quiet for a long moment, hanging his head as he touched the picture of my brother. “You would know if you had been here. . .” Pausing, his head slowly clicked over his shoulder, eyes black as death. “He went looking for you, Porter.”

“No—why? But he—”

Downing the rest of his drink, he slammed the glass on the mantle. “He did this because of you.” Flicking his eyes back to the picture, he said, “You drove him right into the barrel.”

People don't choose to be evil, evil chooses the form it wants. And right then, I felt the evil as it turned my blood to tar, and harnessed all the hatred I had kept bottled up all this time.

How could he blame me for this? I didn't ask Zander to come looking for me, I told him to stay away. I tried to explain how dangerous those people were so he could stay safe.

I failed him. He didn't listen, he didn't believe me.

But, I didn't kill him.

“How can you blame me for this?”

“Look,” he said, turning to face me with his palms up. “I know you think that you did the right thing.” Taking a step forward, his hands danced in the air as he spoke. “And I know you might have convinced yourself in that fucking brain of yours that everything was over. The truth is, it's not, it never was. We were here, we've always been here, living in your fucking filth. We didn't leave you, you left us. And that didn't fix the problem you created.”

“So you really think this is my fault?” Shaking my head, I gawked at him in disbelief. “I did what needed to be done. If I stayed they would have killed us all. I left to keep everyone safe, I left to keep Zander safe, I did that for him.”

Bobbing his head up and down, his voice went soft and thin. “Of course you did, you did it for him. Obviously, that didn't work in his favor.”

Veering my stare, I wanted so badly for him to just understand that I didn't do anything on purpose to hurt our family. It hurt so much when he looked at me like I was garbage. All I ever really wanted from him was his acceptance, to feel like I belonged. He just couldn't ever give me that.

“If I had stayed, all of us would be dead right now. Don't you understand that?”

He hated me for everything I had done. But the thing was, it just felt good to be accepted and wanted, to feel like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I found something I excelled at, and that drew me in like a moth to a flame.

It wasn't right, none of it was. But maybe if he had loved me better, if he hadn't treated me like I was beneath him, like his blood born child was a gift, and I was just a burden; maybe I wouldn't have looked for acceptance elsewhere.

You can't blame him for all of it. . . You made your own choices.

“Porter, we don't need to bicker over the shit you and I will never agree on. You did what you did, that's the end of it. Your brother is dead, and it's all your fault. Why don't you just go, leave now before you cause any more problems.”

Drawing my lips taut, I inched my way closer to him, bringing us chest to chest. “Don't you dare try and put this on me. I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. Mom needs me, so I'm not leaving.” Leaning into his ear, I spoke clear and firm. “I will always be a part of this family, you can't change that, you never could.”

Leaning back, a part of me wanted to turn and walk out that door, leaving him to drown in his own alcohol-induced hatred. I didn't need him to remind me of what I had done, I did that to myself every damn day already.

Taking in a deep breath, his nostrils flared wide, eyes cutting into my soul. “You left us, that was your choice. You could have stayed and done the right thing, stood tall and faced the executioner like a real man. Instead, you abandoned your family, you killed your brother, and you destroyed this fucking family.”

The right thing?!

Where was he when I needed him?!

When I went to him for help he told me to get fucked. When I asked him for advice on what I should do, he told me I wasn't his son, and he didn't care.

“Are you fucking serious? Don't you dare start throwing out shit about doing the right thing! You gave up on me long before all that shit went down.”

“Shh.” he quietly said, holding his finger to his lips. “Your mother doesn't need us arguing, not right now.” Stroking his chin, he rocked his jaw. “You're only a part of this family because your mother can't let you go. But just because you left, doesn't mean you're a changed man, Porter. I know what you became, I know what those fucking pricks created. You mean nothing to me anymore.”

“When did I ever mean anything to you? You've always hated me, why don't you just admit it?”

As much as I tried to not think about it, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was a heartless monster. The time I spent trying to rebuild myself as someone else; I still remained empty and cold.

For so long I blamed who I was on him. That was wrong. I made my own choices, I decided to climb the wall, and drop in on the other side. My father might have laid the tracks, but I climbed on the train.

How could I blame him for the choices I made? It wasn't until I abandoned my family and left to fend for myself, that I saw the real man behind the mask.

Children are malleable, you can mold them into anything you want. Marcos had groomed a killer. By taking me in and giving me everything I thought I was missing from my life, I found my place. I thought he cared for me. I thought he saw me like a son.

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