Simon cradled my hand in his, resting our entwined fingers on my lap. "What exactly are you hoping to find at your aunt's house? I know you feel a pull towards it because you think you'll find some answers there, but isn't it just reopening a wound?"
I sighed as I looked out the side window, the dull winter landscape whizzing by matching my mood. I wasn't sure what compelled me to keep going to my aunt's house. My only answer was that I didn't know what else to do. It made me feel like at least I was trying to do something to find my aunt.
"I don't know," I answered softly. "Losing my aunt right after I found her can't hurt any worse than it already does. Avoiding her house won't change that."
Simon squeezed my hand and steered the topic of conversation to yesterday's festivities, joking about his relatives and their eccentricities. I appreciated Simon's attempt to cheer me up so I went along with it, laughing at his imitations.
"I have to go through the window again," I said after Simon parked his car in front of my aunt's house. Simon sighed but just nodded, sliding out of the driver's seat and following me to the side of the house.
I pushed open the basement window and braced myself on the ground, wiggling my legs through the opening. I was becoming a pro at this and confidently dropped onto the table, letting my eyes become accustomed to the dim room.
"Hurry up and open the front door," Simon called out. I walked quickly up the stairs and opened the basement door. Nothing looked out of place when I glanced at the living room while I made my way to the front door.
Suddenly, I heard a faint noise behind me and I whirled around, my heart in my throat. The last thing I expected was to slam into an unyielding chest as rough hands grabbed my arms.
I was shocked as I met my father's eyes, his hands steadying me so that I didn't fall backwards from the impact.
"Dad! What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"I went home with Simon for Thanksgiving. He only lives about ten minutes from here, so I decided to drop by." I furrowed my brow. "How did you get in? The door was locked."
"I have a key."
I was even more confused. "How could you have a key to Aunt Brenda's house when you haven't seen her in years?"
There was a pounding on the front door and I heard Simon yell out, "Caitlin, what's going on? Who are you talking to? Open the door!"
I moved to walk to the front door when my father grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. I gaped at him. "What are you doing? I have to open the door for Simon!"
My father ignored me, pushing me towards the living room and throwing me down on the couch. I was shocked by my father's behavior. For all of his past mistreatment, he had never handled me roughly, never shown any anger towards me physically. I saw a rage in his eyes that made me want to shrink back against the cushions.
"I'm so sick of this. I'm so sick of you. I'm done playing games with you." My father's voice held so much venom, making me realize that he really did hate me.
Simon's pounding got louder and he was pulling frantically at the doorknob, making the door rattle violently against the doorframe. "Caitlin, open the door!"
I opened my mouth to yell out to him, but whatever words I had been about to say dried up in my mouth when my father abruptly dropped into a crouch in front of me so that we were eye level. "If you don't want anything to happen to your boyfriend, you won't say a word."
I had to swallow several times before I could speak. "Dad, why are you acting this way? What's wrong?"
He smirked, looking at me like he found me utterly repulsive. "I can't tell you how nauseating it's been to hear you call me that all these years in your whiny little voice. You're supposed to be so strong, yet you're so fucking weak."
My mind rebelled against what I was hearing. I had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. My father wouldn't hurt me, would he?
"Dad, please..."
He slammed me against the couch with his hands, pinning me there by my shoulders. "Don't call me that again! I'm not your father. Your father left a long time ago, little girl."
He was standing over me, his mouth pulled back into a vicious snarl, his eyes glittering with hatred. It was then I finally realized that I wasn't looking at my father. I was looking at his vardoger.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I could hear the distant sounds of a solid body slamming against wood, and I was vaguely aware that Simon was trying to break down the door by sheer force, but I could only concentrate on my father's face. The face that now belonged to a shadow.
I was surprised that my voice was steady when I spoke. "How long? How long ago did you overtake him?"
"Long enough to know that you're a sniveling, feeble-minded liability." He backed up, releasing my shoulders and straightening. He glanced at the front door with disgust. I took the opportunity to yell out.