Page 115 of Cain
“Where is he?” he growled.
“Where is who?” Mother asked.
It sounded like he marched towards her. His footsteps were loud. Angry.
“Don’t play dumb to me, Mommy! Where is your bastard son?”
“The only bastard in this house is you. Wade had the audacity to bring you here, his mistress’s filthy spawn, to claim my fortune as if you were my heir. And I am forced to watch you torment my firstborn, treating him like nothing more than an insect.”
He chuckled eerily. “You’re a lunatic, woman. I am your firstborn. That bastard isn’t even Father’s child.”
“That child is mine!” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. “He’s my heir, and he will inherit my fortune, just as my will states.”
“Your what?”
“I had to make sure you would get nothing from me. Nothing I own belongs to you.” Her voice sounded firm and decisive.
“You are wrong, Mother. To the world, I am your firstborn. I am the rightful heir to your bloodline.”
Then came the most horrible sound I’ve ever heard in my life. The wet, gasping struggle for air. The rasp of her throat closing. The sick, hollow gurgling.
“And nothing will stand in my way.”
I pressed my hands over my ears, but it did nothing. I could still hear everything from inside the closet. The choking. The thud of her body against the floor.
“How does it feel, Mother?” he hissed. “Knowing that you failed not just as a mother but as a person? Knowing that you’re nothing more than a filthy, pathetic whore, and that your own ‘son’ is the one who will end you?”
I knew her time was coming. I felt it. But how? How could a ten-year-old boy sense death creeping closer so easily?
Because of him.
Because he did it.
He killed something bright in me.
Again.
And then, there was silence. Disgustingly quiet and suffocating silence. The only thing I could hear was his ragged breathing. Almost satisfied.
He just walked away and left my mother lying on the floor as if she were nothing.
My body was numb. I didn’t realize when I fainted from crying and remained unconscious in her closet for hours, embraced by her clothes. Her scent. Holding me tighter than she ever would again.
The next thing I knew, Grayson’s voice was pulling me back to reality. I was still in Mother’s closet, still drowning in my sorrows.
“Are you okay?” His brows furrowed in worry.
“H-He?—”
“Are you okay, son?” he yelled, shaking me.
I nodded, my chin trembling. In one swift motion, he pulled me into his embrace.
“Mum,” I breathed, my voice muffled against his comforting shoulder.
I pushed him back and dashed to her.
“Cain, no!”
