Page 87 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Laughter echoes in my ears too in such moments, almost freezing me in time and forcing me to watch the horrible pictures in my head over and over again, as if ordering me to remember.

These flashes are so intense I never tell anyone about them; everyone already thinks I'm either stupid or weird.

“Everything changed because of you.” Father points a finger at me, his voice piercing through the fog, and then he kicks Mom in the stomach. She coughs hard and scoots to the side to avoid another blow. “You wanted a baby so much you were willing to put our lives at stake. I was an accountant with a house, and now? I have to fucking play nice to even be considered a gardener!” He kicks her one last time before walking back to the couch and dropping on it, placing his feet up on the table. “Both of you, shut up and let me watch TV.” With this, he turns the game back on and ignores us all together as the announcer’s voice blasts through the speakers.

I crawl to Mom, who sits up in the corner, blood dripping from her forehead and mingling with the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Grabbing the tissues nearby, I reach her quickly and wipe her face while whispering, “Don’t cry, Mommy.” She looks in the distance, her gaze glazed as more tears form in her eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

That’s my motto in this family, because, according to books, darkness always comes before the sunrise, which means someday life should be good for us.

I dip the tissue in the blood. She winces a little, and I notice that this time the cuts aren’t as deep as they could be, which means she managed to put her hands on the wall, so they took the majority of the blow. “We need to clean it up, Mommy,” I tell her, standing up and turning on my heel to get the first aid kit in the bathroom. I want to bring her some relief from pain.

And while I do it, I hear her murmur, barely audible, and yet every single word stabs me like the knife Father uses to cut his favorite bread with. “He’s right. I wish you were never born. You ruined us.”

Scrunching my eyes and keeping at bay the tears ready to emerge at the hurt spreading through me and threatening to destroy me, I stretch my mouth in a smile and get all the needed supplies for her, never showing her the effect their statements have on me.

Because they are the only parents I have, and we’re supposed to love them, no matter what, since they provide for us. They didn’t leave me behind or make me live on the streets like so many people do.

I should be grateful.

But sometimes… especially in these moments… I hate them so much I can almost taste the bitterness on my tongue and crave to run away from them, or worse… see them suffer and regret every insult they’ve thrown my way.

For they make me wish I was never born into this world too.

When people commit unthinkable crimes, they never want to be reminded of them.

In fact, they act as if they never happened and carry on with their lives.

My existence, though, served as a living and breathing reminder of how many people fucked up, because the boss wanted only one thing.

My death.

Instead, I survived.

And I intend to smear his dynasty in dirt and blood until nothing of his reign will be left. His surname alone will inspire shame and disgust in everyone around.

Only then will the little boy within me—who heard 2562 times how much everyone wished he died—find peace.

Penelope

“You know,” I whisper, still reeling in shock at the knowledge. His mouth lifts in a half smile, and his brown orbs flash with an unreadable glint.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest says hastily in the stretched silence around us. My breathing speeds up as thousands of thoughts swirl in my head; however, one of the most prominent among them all, Remi knew all this time about the switch, even back in his dungeon when he revealed everything to me.

Goose bumps break on my skin as his raspy voice echoes in my ears while Remi grips the veil gently before pulling it back, allowing him to see my face.

The mesmerizingly handsome monster who threatened to declare war over the woman he craved to the point of insanity… he coveted her twin all along?

And he still went through with this wedding?

Our gazes clash, his possessive and mine confused. Warmth spreads through me, awakening every hair on my body when his thumbs brush away the earlier tears, tremors rushing over me at his touch.

“Welcome to my life, Penelope,” he murmurs, leaning forward and pressing his lips against my forehead, bestowing almost a butterfly-like kiss. His scent weaves me in a protective cocoon, keeping me away from all the hardships and pain my existence offers me, and instead it gives peace to the hurting part in me begging for love and attention.

Betraying hope blooms in my chest at the prospect of all this mess being done to win and claim me rather than my twin. It pours a soothing balm over the festering wound that could have left a deep scar on my heart. Because despite common sense, I fell in lust with this stranger.

Deep, all-consuming lust that craves him constantly as the fire he evokes in me cannot be extinguished.

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