The ceiling is slanted, and it’s so different than the day he painted me in here. It’s dark, and gloomy, and kind of scary. It gives me the chills, but I’m not about to back out now. My eyes find Parker’s painting covered with a white sheet, and I make my way over to it. I only hesitate for a moment, knowing he would not want me looking at it. But then I tear the sheet off. And I stare.
There I am, painted in beautiful watercolor, my hair dark as the night, an inky black, my blue eyes glowing like sapphires. But my mouth is twisted strangely, and so are my hands. And I’m not lying on the couch, I’m on my knees. And I’m on a leash. I stare at the painting in horror.
Parker’s painted me with an expression of such profound sorrow and hurt, it pains me to just look at it. My robe is split down the middle, but instead of revealing my breasts, all there is a gaping, bloody hole exposing my chest. A leash leads from my neck to an arm tugging me along, and I know it’s his arm.
Parker thinks of himself as a deranged puppet master. And I’m the toy with strings that he’s controlling now.
Coming up here was a mistake.
I rush down the stairs so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. My heart is pounding, my thoughts scattered. And for the first time in years, I remember the night-light I always had to have on at night so the nightmares wouldn’t come.
I think I’ll leave it on tonight, too… And lock my bedroom door. Twice.
21
Parker
2 years ago
I led my parents, June, and Kade into the family room. My gift for my father and stepmother had been hung above the fireplace while we were having dinner, an arrangement I'd made with the housekeeper. Now it hung on the wall, majestic, huge, and impressive. Even I was stunned by what I'd created.
"There it is," I announced proudly, eyes glittering with mischief as I turned to face them. "I painted a family portrait of the five of us as a gift for your anniversary. I hope you like it."
I watched all their expressions. Rachel, delighted and elated. Kade, a little amused, but impressed by what I'd done. June, in awe. And my father, who stared right back, gritting his teeth together. But there was nothing he could do to change what I'd done. The proof was right fucking there, on the canvas.
Our parents stood in the background, proudly looking down at the three of us. Beneath Dad, there was Kade, sitting down, grinning in that dark way of his. And beneath Rachel, I sat with a smirk, my eyes turned to June, who was positioned on my lap, sitting down on it like she used to.
"What do you think?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat when I realized almost a minute had passed, and none of them had said a word yet. "I really hope you like it. It took me ages."
"It's amazing!" Rachel enveloped me in a hug. "Absolutely beautiful. Perfection!"
"Great work, man. "My twin clapped me on the back, and June nodded and joined in with her praise, embracing me as well. The only person left was Dad, and I could tell by his expression alone that he was pissed off with me. Perfect—it was exactly what I'd wanted.
"Parker," he barked. "My office. Let's go."
The rest of them watched with wide eyes as he marched me up the stairs and into his office on the first floor. Dad locked the door behind us, and I sat in front of his desk, comfortably stretching my body while he paced the room, his expression one of pure rage.
"I don't know what the hell you were thinking, painting June like that," he told me in furious tones. "Sitting on your knee... She's nineteen, for chrissakes. Much too old to be sitting there. You're putting ideas in her head. You're going to make her think you like her."
"Maybe I do like her." I smiled. "Maybe I like her a whole lot."
"Are you serious?" He stood in front of me, his breaths heavy as we faced off. "We spent years going over this, Parker. I thought I got that idea out of your head once and for all."
"You mean, you thought you beat that idea out of me?" I repeated innocently, correcting him. "Because that's what you did, isn't it, Dad? You beat me until you thought I was fucking cured. Well, news-fucking-flash. You can't cure an obsession. You can only make it worse."
"You're a monster," he told me plainly, and I laughed in his face.
"Took you long enough," I snarled. "You should've known all those years ago there's no changing the bad seed. I've always been the bad apple, the black sheep of this family, haven't I? Kade is the prodigal son—you accept him with open arms no matter how badly he fucks up. But not me. You've always pushed me away."