Page 19 of Sinful Lies
I walked from room to room and then slowly up the stairs, listening. Trying to gauge what I was walking into. When I reached the top, I heard it. The sound that turned my blood cold.”
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Ten years earlier
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My mother’s screampierces through my ears, sending a wave of fear unlike I’ve ever known throughout my body. I hurdle down the hall toward my parents’ bedroom, determined not to let him hurt her again but when I reached the door, the sight in front of me turned my blood to ice.
My father wasn’t expecting her. His face turns red as he crawls off the woman he’s screwing in their bed and slinks toward my mother, naked and more pissed off than unashamed. His pot belly protruding over his shriveled-up cock. My mother is just standing there, shaking her head, crying and screaming at him, “What have you done?”
I rush to my mother’s side, never taking my eyes off my father. There’s a rabid look in his eyes as he raises his hand and strikes the side of her face with the back of his hand. She’s much smaller than him, and the force of the blow knocks her to the floor. I clench my fists and raise them to him. I have never fought back, but tonight I finally am. I have never hated him more than I do in this moment, and I truly hate him.
I swing but miss my mark. My father’s laughter drowns out my mother’s cries. “Is that all you got, boy?”
He swings back, clocking me under my eye, and shoves me backwards. I stoop forward, resting my hands on my legs while I try to regain my balance. My ears are ringing and my hands shaking.
“You need to come at me with something harder than that if you expect to stay on your feet.”
I bring my eyes forward and see my mother huddled on the floor, her makeup running down her face. Bruising already forming on her delicate skin. I inhale a deep breath and lift my eyes higher.
“I thought you were a tough guy. You can’t even land a punch.”
My eyes take in the woman still lying in the bed. Only this time, I see what my mother saw. It’s not a woman. It’s a girl my age, lying there motionless. A necktie wrapped around her neck and tied off to the bedpost. The white satin sheets stained red with the blood dripping from her bare thighs.
“Like what you see? You can have a go, if you can land your next punch. I fucked the fight out of her already so you can do what you want. If you 're man enough to get your dick up.”
The words on his lips make me want to puke. I may only be eighteen, but I know what we just walked in on. My father raped this girl and killed her. If he could do that, what else is he capable of? How many times has he done this? His demeanor was too calm and cold for it to be the first time.
I pull my gaze higher, landing on the disgusting smirk on my father’s face. He’s moved since I lowered my eyes and he’s now standing in the middle of all three of us, my mother, the dead girl and me. I glance to my mother crying on the floor, back at my father and catch the glint of steel in his hand. He raises the gun at me and swings his arm to the right, pointing the barrel at my mother. My gut lurches into my throat and I react without thinking. Barreling my body toward him, I ram headfirst into his chest so hard he stumbles backwards. His head thuds against the edge of the bed and knocks him out cold. I kick the gun away from his body and rush to my mother’s side, kneeling before her. She’s in a state of shock, trembling, rocking back and forth with her arms clenched around her knees. I follow her locked gaze across the room, not to my father but to the girl in the bed. I rise to my feet and walk over to the girl. Her cold, dead eyes stare back at me as I study the look of fear on her face. I’ve never seen her before. My mother mumbles something I don’t understand under her breath. I pull the bedsheet over the girl’s body and lay it gently over her face and turn around just as my father pulls the trigger. I scream and fall to my knees. Blood pools to the floor. I inhale a sharp breath. The coppery smell of blood hits my senses and my head spins. My heart is racing so fast, its staccato beat washes over me, drowning out all other noise.
My palms slip in blood as I crawl towards my mother. “No... No... No...” This can’t be happening. I was supposed to save her. It can’t end like this. I cradle her body in my arms as the life slowly drains out of her. Sirens wail in the distance, flooding my ears, but their presence brings me no relief. They won’t make it here fast enough to save her. “I’m sorry I failed you mom.”
Her mouth rounds and a weak voice slips through her lips. “No, my son. I failed you.”
Gathering the last ounce of strength she has; she sits up and reaches into an open dresser drawer. She must have been trying to open it when my father came too and shot. “Stop mom, be still. Help is coming.”
She pulls out a lockbox, no bigger than a child’s school lunch box, and snaps a chain around her neck. A tiny key clangs against the floor. I pick it up for her. With trembling hands, I insert it into the keyhole and open the box. She clenches a wad of cash in her blood-soaked hands and shoves it into my chest. “Take this.” She whispers.
“I don’t need that, mom. You don’t need to worry about money right now.”
She bumps her fist into my chest again, “Listen to me, now. Take this money and your grandfather’s watch. Someday, when you need it, it will remind you who you are. Get as far away from here as you can, while you still have the chance. You can’t trust him.” She orders with the same stern voice she used on me when I was a kid. “Promise me. Go and don’t look back.”
I shove the money and the watch in my pocket and lay my mother back down. “I love you, mom. I promise.” As if those were the only words she needed to hear, she closes her eyes and draws her last breath.
“If you love your mother so much, why did you kill her, son? Admit you snapped when she caught you raping and murdering that poor girl. And in our bed, of all places. How could you do this to us?” I was so focused on my mother; I didn’t notice my father return to the room. He’s standing over me, fully dressed, with his phone in his hand. “Officer, hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can keep him calm.”
“What?” I shake my head, confused and overcome with emotion.
My father drops the phone to the floor and fires another shot. This time, he has the gun turned on himself. The bullet tears through the flesh on his side. He grabs my hand, forcing my fingers around the butt of the gun. “Hurry, he shot me.”
That’s when I realize the phone was connected and on speaker. Voices shout through the line, “Help is on the way.”
The sirens grow louder. They're getting closer now. I place a kiss on my mother’s forehead and scramble to my feet. I take off running, down the stairs and out the back door. I fire up my Harley Davidson Roadster and peel out of the driveway before the police cars close in. I watch the flashing lights through my side mirrors and take a sharp left. My mind is racing, and unshed tears blur my vision. I don’t think about where I’m going. It’s instinct that steers my bike straight to Dia’s house. I park my bike and climb the Birch tree that leads to her bedroom window.
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Present Day
