Incendiary (Inferno 4)

Chapter Four

In my room, I have a picture of Taylee.

None of my children have ever known about this because when it’s time for them to prove to me what they’ve learned, to show me that maybe there’s something good in them after all, I make sure that it’s on the top ledge of the closet.

I firmly believe that some things are better left unsaid, and bedtime stories about their great-grandmother isn’t something I think would do any of us good.

This entire fucking thing started because of the blonde, crazy bitch that loved me a little more than she should have.

I was made to step into Trenton’s place, and it only became worse when I tried to tell the bastard what had been happening to me.

He didn’t care, and if he did, he didn’t do shit about it. The old man let me down like I knew he would, but I felt like I had to tell someone.

That’s when I learned how a family should be run.

That’s when I realized that there could only be one head of the household and Taylee was too far gone to ever be able to run this line properly.

But, sometimes, I like to sit in my room and stare at the picture of her. To remind me of my own roots, the ones that wound themselves around me like a vice and threatened to strangle me if I didn’t figure things out quickly.

I let out a sigh as I set the portrait of her on my dresser and look into her vacant eyes.

They weren’t always like that.

There was a time that she was so full of life—so happy. I think that’s when she got pregnant with me and lost her mind at the same goddamn time.

And I was made into the instrument of her anger, resentment—all of the sick fucking things she couldn’t keep to herself.

I never did get used to it, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to.

So the last time she put her fucking hands on me, I turned into those roots. The very same ones that tried to drag me back into the abysmal darkness turned me into the man I am when I watched the life leave her vacant eyes.

And with as much as I always hated her, I guess, in a way, I had hoped that these fucking children would have been a little more like her.

It would have made things so much easier if I could see the Taylee in them—the disease festering inside of their brains, rotting it from the inside out like it did with her.

I honestly believe it would have made me a more patient man.

However, too much patience can lead to weakness and that’s what happened with Darby.

I’ve learned my lesson from that misstep and now her children will pay the same price I had to but at each other’s hands.

“You probably would have been so proud,” I murmur to Taylee as I use the tip of my finger to trace the outline of her face. “If you even knew what the hell was happening, anyway.”

Taking a deep breath, I snatch the photo from the dresser, then head over to the closet and put it back in its rightful place.

Maybe one day, one of these kids will be smart enough to find it and ask some questions. Until that moment comes, they can always just wonder about why I am the way I am and try to find as much justification in it as I did.

Trials and tribulations are what build a strong character.

And that’s why my family is goddamn special.

The harder things get, the more they learn to appreciate things and bend to the will of the head of the household.

I’m just hoping that, maybe, the boy is smart enough to realize that before it’s too late for him and I’m forced to start all over again.