From the way she was dressed, I’d imagined he’d come in as I had left for school. She generally placed the dishes in the dishwasher and then took a shower before work.
But she’d never made it that far.
He must’ve come in and started fighting with her. He was likely drunk before he’d even come home.
Then he started drinking at home, as they fought. He started hitting her and she ran upstairs.
Maybe she finally stood up to him telling her she was leaving with me.
Maybe he saw the determination in her eyes.
She was really going to do it this time.
But he wasn’t going to let her go.
Bringing my hand to her face, I closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see a world that had brought her such pain anymore.
Her full lips had turned blue. They were slightly agape as if she were trying to say something.
Closing my eyes, I could almost hear her voice.
“Bryan, my sweet baby Bryan, be a good boy. Momma loves you.”
Tears soaked my cheeks as I bent to kiss her.
“Goodbye, Momma,” I whispered.
The days after her death were a blur. I recalled stumbling out to the street and screaming. I think a neighbor found me and called the police.
Soon sirens filled the air and an ambulance came and hauled my mother’s body away. After that, I went to live with my cousins while they searched for my father.
The police questioned me thoroughly asking me about my father’s violent temper. I was quick to name him as the one who killed my mother.
“My God, Sinister, whatever happened to your dad?” I’d asked him.
He’d laughed. “That old fucker he got his. Apparently, after killing my mom he went off the rails. He ripped off a local bar to get money to get out of town. He knew the cops were coming for him. He made a huge mistake though ripping off that bar. It was owned by a guy with big Mafia connections. He put a hit out on my dad. They found him before the cops did.”
I had watched his eyes light up with pleasure as he had described what the guy did to his dad.
“After they got done with him, I bet he wished the cops would’ve got to him first. The guy who owned the bar killed my dad in an extremely gruesome way. I don’t want to go into details, but let’s just say it’s been twenty five years and they’re still finding pieces of him. The fucker deserved it after what he did to my mother. Living with my cousins didn’t last long. The trauma of seeing my mother dead hardened my heart. I had nothing left inside of me. The emptiness threatened to swallow me whole. So, I began acting out. I ran away, stole whatever I wanted, and discovering the tremendous relief drugs could give me. Soon, I ended up in trouble with the law. My first offense landed me in a juvenile detention center. I was only 13. A vicious cycle began with me committing crimes, getting thrown into detention center, getting out and going back inside. Like I said, I was used to doing time. When I finally was released from juvenile authorities, I didn’t know what to do. I found the Brotherhood. Or rather, the Brotherhood found me. Riding Harleys, dealing drugs, and running game was what I was about. Fucking hot girls along the way didn’t hurt. I thought the Brotherhood was the family I never had. I embraced them fully. Until they asked me to become their hitman.”
“Sinister, my brother is coming over soon. Do you think you could—?”
He waved his hand.“—leave? Of course. Wouldn’t want Mr. Rich Asshole to see an ex-con living here with you.”
I rolled my eyes. I wouldn’t even dignify that with an answer. Besides, I needed to go call Ash.
Hearing the roar of Sinister’s bike as he left, I waited for Ash. My veins ached as I felt the need for another fix. Trying my best to ignore it, I went outside to wait on the deck. I loved feeling the ocean breeze whipping my hair and the briny scent of the sea. I was anxious to begin our search for our half-sister. Who knew what other family secrets she may hold?
Seventy
Mark
Kicking the gate to the stairwell open, I eased my way up the steps while holding the cumbersome box. I cursed myself for taking an apartment on the tenth floor as I lugged the heavy package up the flight of stairs.
Finally, when I reached my apartment I dropped the box as I unlocked the door. Scores of roaches scattered as I flicked on the light. The place was absolutely disgusting, but it would do for now.
After all, I was only in New York for one thing.
And that one thing would be accomplished soon.
Bugs crunched beneath the soles of my shoes as I made my way to the kitchen. Placing the box on the table, I turned to pull a beer out of the refrigerator. Popping open the bottle, I turned on the TV as I collapsed onto a green vinyl kitchen chair.
“Amber Michaelson, girlfriend of billionaire businessman, Ashton Blackthorne has announced her plans for the release of her new line of lingerie called ‘Owned by Ashton’.
When speaking with Michaelson, she said that part of the proceeds of the sales will be going to help animals in need and survivors of sexual abuse.
“I feel really positive. This isn’t just about women being sexy it’s also to help survivors of sexual abuse and abused animals. Two things I really care about.”
A photo of Amber wearing a filmy negligee flashed on the screen. My cock instantly stiffened.
I flicked off the TV in disgust. Even after all these years, she still had that effect on me. That was all I needed to remind me of why I was here. A quick glance at the box caused a slow smile to break out on my face.
Standing up, I pulled a six inch long hunting knife out of a leather sheath. My fingers caressed the razor sharp blade. I envisioned the terror on her face as I brought the knife up her body and held it to her throat. My cock was rock hard as I imagined cutting her bra off, her tits bouncing free. I would take the knife dragging it across her nipples slowly then all the way to her cunt. With one swift motion, I would cut the panties from her body. A tiny cry would escape her lips, as the knife would graze her between the legs. I’d bring the blade back to my face to inhale the scent of her wet cunt. Her eyes would widen with fear as I took the knife and—
Without warning, a heavy thud was heard overhead. It sounded like someone crashing to the floor in the apartment above me. I shrugged and placed the knife back into its sheath. I still had so much planning to do. I thought about when I was younger. That fucking shrink had had it all wrong. Amber was the problem not me. It was bad enough when she was young prancing all over the house shaking her unusually large breasts at me. Now she was on TV for the whole world to see.
But maybe now they’d realize it hadn’t been my fault.
Grabbing the empty bottle of beer, I tossed it into the trashcan.
Sickened, I remembered the sessions with that dumb fucking shrink.
One hot, sticky summer night when I was fifteen, I was in my closet as usual. I hadn’t been able to sleep so I got into my closet with a sheet. My intention had been to sleep there, but I heard Amber in the next room.
Flicking my Boy Scout flashlight on, I illuminated the closet. I peered through the peephole.
There she was in all her naked glory. The moonlight streamed in through the open window. The night was unusually hot and humid and she’d left the window open in hopes of catching a breeze. She was curled up on her bed and at first I thought she was sleeping.
The closet door flew open.
“Mark, what the fuck?” It was my older brother, Mick.
Quickly, I threw the sheet over me.
But it was too late. He’d seen me. “What the hell are you looking at?”
“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep is all.”
Mick reached down and with one pull of his arm yanked me up off the floor. He pushed me aside and peered through the hole. “My God,” he whispered. His eyes widened in horror as he gazed at me sprawled out on the floor. “You’re sick, man. She’s our fucking sister!”
“No, no, no! You don’t get it! She makes me look at
her! She called to me, Mick. She woke me up.” Frantically, I pulled on a pair of shorts to shield my nudity.
He shook his head. Pacing the floor, he ran his hands through his hair. “Mark, that’s sick. She’s our sister! She was sleeping. How could she be calling to you?”
“No, don’t you see? That’s how she gets to you. She wears those tops without a bra. You see it too, don’t you? It’s all part of her plan…”
Mick’s eyes kept getting wider as he listened to my theory.
“…and she wants me to want her. She’s the one doing this. I don’t even want to look at her. She makes me.”
His eyes widened in terror as he collapsed on the edge of the bed holding his hand over his mouth. “Mark, you need help. I’m telling mom and dad.”
“NO!” I screamed throwing myself at him. We fell back on the mattress as I swung at him clipping him in the jaw.
He appeared stunned as he held his face. He quickly overpowered me flipping me over onto my back and slammed his fist into my face. I saw stars.
Then, he jumped off of me and raced down the hallway to tell our parents.
As soon as my father walked in, I knew it was all over for me.
They took me to the mental hospital. Craville Psychiatric. I called it Crazyville. They made me talk to different doctors and counselors. But the one I especially hated was Dr. Frye. His office was filled with annoying self-help phrases in picture frames:
Don’t worry, be happy
Love yourself.
“This abnormal obsession with your sister-when did it start?”
I stared at him.
“You carved a hole in your closet to watch your sister. Do you recall doing that?”
I sat motionless.
“Why do you think your sister wants you to look at her?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t talking to this idiot.
He sighed and jotted some notes. “Have you ever touched your sister?”
A knot formed in my stomach. I squirmed a bit and moved to the side of my chair.
He nodded as he peered at me. His glasses slid down his nose slightly. “So, Mark, why don’t you tell me about your sister? Amber, is that her name? She seems like a sweet girl.”
That was it. I pounded my fist on my thigh. “Sweet? She’s a fucking slut!”
He jumped back in his chair. His eyes widened as he nodded. “So, that’s why you think your sister wants you to look at her? She’s a slut. Is she bad, too?”
I sighed. “She’s a filthy slut. She’s a tease. She wears skimpy see through clothes and taunts me with her body. She knows I can see her. I see the evil in her smiles even if no one else does.”
Apparently, Dr. Frye liked what he heard. He wrote feverishly in his notebook.
Diagnosis: Axis I-Delusional Disorder, Rule Out Conduct Disorder
Axis II-Personality Disorder NOS with narcissistic, antisocial and borderline features.
In other words, I was a fucking psycho. It was bullshit.
I slammed my fist into the locker. Fuck, if I was going to stay here in this prison! I thought about all the ways I could escape. I wasn’t crazy. I was ‘oriented to time and place’ as the shrink said. I knew my name and where I lived.
But apparently, I was the only one who could see what an evil seductive slut my sister was. While sitting in those agonizing sessions the doctor dubbed ‘therapy’, I thought about telling him all the times I’d been with Amber in her bed when I was younger. How much she loved being close to me.
I decided against it.
A few months passed and I learned what Dr. Frye wanted to hear. I’d tear up and give him a little insight into my supposed ‘abnormal obsession’ with my sister.
I knew the real truth though. There was nothing abnormal about me. It was her. She was the one trying to seduce me. Why was I the only one who could see it?
After forcing my parents and me into family therapy, my parents finally relented and allowed me to come home. Convinced I was better, my father even let me have my old room back. Mick, my oldest brother, had moved out of our house into his own place. So I was in the room all alone.
Thrilled to be out of that shithole, I tried to be good. I avoided Amber as much as possible. The hole in the closet had been filled. As part of my discharge plan, I had to attend a juvenile offenders group. The whole thing was a waste of time. Several guys in there had actually perpetrated on people like one guy who had touched a four year old neighbor boy. Why the fuck would they put me in with guys like that? I was nothing like that. I’d never touch another guy let alone a little boy. That was sick.
My sister wasn’t so innocent. Maybe she’d been young when it started, but she knew exactly what she was doing. She’d lured me with her sexy, sneaky glances. She flashed her panties at me. Maybe the only thing wrong with it was because she was my sister.
But I still didn’t think so.
Why had God given me such a sexy sister? My other sister was as ugly as sin. She didn’t captivate me in the least. It didn’t make any sense to me. One sister was gorgeous and the other wasn’t. My brothers didn’t seem as taken with her as I was.
Now thirty years later, I was still affected by her. Slamming my fist onto the table, I vowed that I would end this madness once and for all.
Seventy One
Ash
Ayden was quiet on the way out to our father’s house. The drive was quite scenic and I imagined he was enjoying the view. Mountains rose up and whizzed past us as we made our way up north.
“You’ve been quiet,” I commented as we turned down the road to my father’s house.
He shrugged. “Do you think she’s really our sister?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed.
“You knew her I didn’t.”
As we approached the gate, I punched the code in. “That was a long time ago. I can hardly remember her.”
Ayden sucked in his breath sharply. I glanced over at him to see his eyes widen as he glimpsed our father’s house for the first time. I had to admit it was an impressive sight.
The house was a sprawling mansion built by my great-grandfather, Aubrey back around the turn of the century. It was modeled after the exquisite homes he’d seen in the Garden District of New Orleans when he first came to America from Germany. It sat nestled beside a beautiful lake with mountains surrounding it. The lawn was still kept manicured as I insisted. Since our father’s passing, no one had lived here and I hadn’t the heart to sell it yet.
“You grew up here?” Ayden whispered.
I nodded smiling to see the old swing hanging from a huge tree in the back. Amelia had pushed me on that swing when she’d lived her with her mother, Rita. “Yes, I did. Did you see the stables when we drove in? They were off to the right.”
“No, I didn’t. So has anyone lived here since our father died?”
I shook my head parking the car in the circular driveway. “No, I can’t bring myself to sell it.”
Ayden looked horrified. “You can’t sell it. It’s our ancestral home.”
I burst out laughing. “Listen to you! Our ‘ancestral’ home. You really think you’re something, don’t you?”
He shrugged opening the car door. “I’m Ashton Blackthorne’s brother, why not?” He grinned.
We walked up the steps to the immense door. I unlocked it and threw it open.
Stepping inside, Ayden whistled loudly. “Oh my God, look at this.” He murmured taking it all in. As he walked into the foyer, he looked above his head in awe of the grand chandelier above us containing so many bulbs, it was as bright as the sun when it was turned on. The floors of the grand foyer were marble covered with genuine Persian rugs. Ahead of us was a long, winding staircase that extended in two different directions one towards the west wing and the other to the east wing of the house. Against the walls were ornamental stone benches above them were painted portraits of my great grandparents and grandparents.
“These are our grandparents?” Ayden asked tracing h
is fingers lightly over the portraits.
I nodded. “Yes, this one is Aubrey and Lula Blackthorne, our great-grandparents. This one is our grandparents, Arnold and Vivian Blackthorne. The last one is our parents.”
Ayden stood in silence looking at the portraits. “I can’t…” He began.
I understood. The first glance at the immense house would likely be overwhelming to someone for the first time. I was still sometimes in awe of it and I’d grown up here. “Let’s go up to the attic.”
Ayden followed me up the staircase looking at all the furniture draped in white coverings. “How is it not dusty? Do you come here often?”
I shook my head. “No, I just have someone keep an eye on the place. Then I have a cleaning crew come in a few times a month.”
“Why not move here?”
“It’s several hours from the city.”
We walked until we came to the tiny stairway leading to the attic.
“My God, I’ve never seen such a place.”
“Go ahead, look around. It will take me a minute to find what I’m looking for.”
As Ayden began shifting through boxes, I looked through a few myself. Finally, I came to the box I was looking for. Dumping the contents out, I looked through the pictures.
“What did you find?”
Clutching a handful of photos, I held one up. “This is Amelia and Rita.”
Ayden took the pictures from my hand. There was a beautiful little girl about eleven years old in the picture. Her hair was long and black. Her smile was faint almost enigmatic. Her mother, Rita stood beaming at whoever was taking her picture. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue.
“What a beautiful girl. Those eyes…wow.”
“I know. I remember admiring her when I was little. I thought she was some kind of princess.” I laughed.
Collecting the photos, we left the expanse of the attic. Ayden walked around the house some more as I called Andrews, a former FBI agent friend of mine.
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