Vicious Minds: Part 3 (Children of Vice 6)

I closed the gift box.

Exhaling as I blinked the tears away.

He broke my wings and threw me into his cage. And right now, I needed to heal. But I was going to fly, goddammit. One way or another.

“I need to go wash my hands.”

HELEN

We sat just left of the bed, watching our father sleep, completely oblivious to anything that had happened or was happening. Neither of us wanted to admit the fact that we knew it wasn’t just exhaustion. We knew it wasn’t just grief. Grief was the reason behind it all but the drugs…that was why he was so weak. Ever since our mother had died, he’d chosen to dull his pain. We tried to stop him, we tried to calm him down, and I spent my time watching him. But somehow, if I just dozed off or turned my back, he’d find something to take. He didn’t care what. I searched the whole room and instructed the entire staff, yet he still ended up on something. And I still didn’t know where his stash was.

This was what Calliope had done to my family. She’d ruined us. I didn’t care what she said. I didn’t believe her.

“You should have let her burn,” I whispered to my brother as he sat quietly beside me.

“And if the fire spread to the entire house? How would we get him out?” he asked.

He was right. It wasn’t reason talking; it was hate. No matter what Calliope did or said, I would always hate her.

“Besides, I want to see what Mother left us,” he added, and I scoffed.

“Do you really believe her?”

“Yes, she didn’t care about anything at that moment. Why would she use it to lie? She doesn’t care if we hate her.”

I squeezed my fist. “She thinks it’s okay. That she sacrificed our mother because she may have been sick. She wants to throw off all the responsibility of her actions on Mom. I won’t let her. She stole the precious time we had left—”

“Who would they have been precious for? Maybe us but not Mom.”

I looked to him, not sure how he could say that. “We would have had a final Christmas, a proper goodbye—”

“She would have been like he is now,” he cut me off. “No, she’d most likely be worse because meds wouldn’t have helped her pain. So, she’d be in bed aching, crying, and Dad would be spending his time trying to figure out how to save her. Calling every doctor, having her poked and prodded, tested over and over again. We’d hold on to the hope he’d find a way and be in denial. Like you are in denial right now. We’d all be scared and in pain, ignoring her voice as she was in pain in order to keep her alive just a little longer. It wouldn’t have been proper goodbye. There are no proper goodbyes. It would just be her in pain, watching us in pain.”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “You don’t know that. Even if it happened like that at the end, when all hope was lost, we could have stayed around her. Instead, she was stabbed and left on the floor.”

“Wyatt said her true toxicology report showed she’d been injecting some toxins. It wasn’t given by Calliope. The whole time she had one of the maids help her brew it into her leaves in her tea. The plant is in the greenhouse hidden among her roses. She went there to take it. That’s how Calliope found out. She had—”

“Stop, I don’t want to know.” It made the feeling in my chest hurt so badly I had to rub my chest. “I don’t care. I don’t care. She was our mom, and she deserved better.”

He said nothing.

So, we went back to silence.

And in that silence, I also wanted to burn this place down. This godforsaken house and family that my mother had given all of her life and soul to. Over and over again, she’d given everything, and for what? For fucking what?

“How is your relationship with Wyatt?” he spoke up again softly, his eyes shifting on to me.

“Why does that matter?”

He didn’t answer.

And I didn’t push because I didn’t know what my relationship was with Wyatt anymore. Honestly, over the last year, I hadn’t paid much attention to anything but my father and my own pain. Right after my mother’s death, he’d disappeared for days. Only to come back and tell me he had been searching for answers. And he was sure it was Calliope who stabbed her. From there, I only focused on my father, my pain, and my desire to kill her.

Where had Wyatt fit into all of that?

My memories were just flashes of me screaming at him and him just standing there looking at me with sad eyes.

It wasn’t love anymore, but pity.