Page 19 of Colton
Sophia.
She deserved better. She should still be here.Alive.
But that isn’t all. No—there’smore.
My fingers cling to the photograph’s edge, pulling it free as I swipe my eyes over the others. Faces I don’t recognize, until…him.
Colton.
I squint at the photo, hoping—praying—that it’s not him. But it is. Colton. His face is void of emotion; eyes cold as he watches his father torment the poor girl. Every ounce of hope I had for him—gone. I wanted to believe he wasn’t like his father, but this? This proves otherwise.
In the middle of one frame, frozen in time, Colton watches.
Not passive. Not ignorant. No.
There’s a girl in the shot, shackled to the far wall, her body twisted in pain, Xavier’s hands all over her, and Colton…just stands there, eyes cold and distant, like he’s already dead inside, letting his father enjoy the sport.
No.
But it’s there. The truth.
Colton was there. He’s been thereall along.
Is this what he’s always been? Just another monster in the shadows,waiting his turn?
Something inside cracks, and all that’s left is fury. White-hot, blindingfury.
I stare again at Sophia. At the final moments speckled across those filthy photographs…and something cold settles over me, colder than anything I’ve felt yet. If Colton was involved, if he had any hand in what happened to her?—
Jesus…
They’ll both die.
I won't just kill them. I’ll make sure they feel every ounce of pain they inflicted. I’ll burn this house to the ground, and they’ll know it was me. It won’t be quick—it can’t be. Not after what they’ve done. Every scream that’s echoed through these walls will be returned tenfold.
And this place—this entire fucking mansion—is going to burn.
Chapter 9
Colton
Isit in the surveillance room, my fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm against the table. Mary walks through the halls of the mansion, making me feel...something. She’s like a bright light in the shitty darkness, and I can’t help but revel in it, even if I don’t deserve it. She glances up occasionally, as if sensing my watchful eyes upon her, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if she senses the darkness that lies within me.
Memories smother me, tainting my thoughts. My heart races as I’m pulled back through time, sharper images flooding my mind.
My mother. How happy she was until he came home. I remember the way her smile would fade under his gaze, how she’d shrink within herself, retreating into the corners of our once happy home. The sprawling rooms that had once echoed fun and happiness now weighed heavy with sadness. I feel the familiar clenching in my gut, the guilt that still cripples me today.
I can still hear the screams forever haunting me. A younger me watching on in horror, powerless to intervene as my father set up his games, each one more sadistic than the last. I wasjust a boy, yet he molded me into an unwilling observer of his cruelty. He crushed my innocence, manipulating me into being his protégé. My chest tightens as an image of the girl he tried to force me to harm flashes before me.
“You do it, boy, or you can watch me.”
The moment I refused to bow to his expectations, I remember it vividly—the way my heart raced with terror.
“You think you can defy me?” Father had rasped afterwards, venom dripping from each syllable. I can still feel the burn of his palm across my cheek, the sting reminding me that resistance comes at a cost.
I remember curling into myself, small and insignificant to him. Each scar on my body tells a story of rebellion met with his brutality. And in the quiet of the surveillance room, I trace each one with my fingertips, each mark a bitter reminder that emotional prisons are my life.
Mary’s footsteps fade, and all that remains is silence—cold and suffocating. It envelops me in a cloak of darkness. I imagine her existence intertwined with mine, yet fear snakes its way into my thoughts—fear that the monster I hate may have already crept into my soul. The urge to protect her fights against the urge to control, two hands gripping my heart until it threatens to burst.
