To achieve this, terrible crimes were done and nightmarish horrors were created.

I close my eyes and see the monsters in their vats.

I blink them away, focusing my gaze on the stack of my dad’s paintings piled haphazardly against the wall.

They’re good, some of them, really good. Still lifes, landscapes, a few hastily sketched faces. Charcoal, mostly. Some watercolor. There’s one of me as a baby, with chubby cheeks and a single tooth.

My hand freezes on the last canvas. It’s my mother. The oil pastel my dad attempted, then abandoned.

It’s been worked and reworked. I can fe

el him struggling with the gaze, the smile.

Smiling has never been my mother’s strong suit.

Still, there’s a soft vulnerability to the eyes. A gentle sweetness to the mouth. This drawing was done by someone who loved my mother deeply. Without reservation.

I think back to the endless fights and icy silences. Is it possible, beneath all that high-octane drama, that they really loved each other? Did he see something in her that I can’t see?

I take my own sketch out of my jeans pocket. It’s smeared at the folds. I compare it to the portrait of my mother, studying the strokes and smudges, moving an imaginary pencil over my drawing.

“Whatcha doing?”

Aislin joins me. She’s still a mess, but beautiful in her tough-but-not-really way. She squeezes herself against the cold and lays her head on my shoulder.

“Let’s go outside,” I suggest in a whisper. “Don’t want to wake Solo.”

She grins. “Are you sure?”

The breeze is brisk and smells of fish. I look down at the water. There’s a sea lion gazing back up at us hopefully. No doubt it expects breakfast. I’m not sure the sea lions in the bay ever actually fish anymore. I think they just wait for bits of burger and chalupa ends.

“I got nothing,” I say. I display my empty hands. The sea lion dives smoothly and disappears.

“You should sleep,” I tell Aislin.

“Mmm. Should. I don’t really do ‘should’ all that well.”

I smile. “I’ve noticed.”

“You do ‘should.’”

“Do I?” It’s a genuine question. I’m not sure I know the answer.

“That was some scary stuff. On the computer,” Aislin says. She sounds tentative. She’s feeling me out.

“Yeah. Stuff from a horror movie.”

“What are you going to do?”

I heave a big sigh. “I don’t know yet. According to you I do the right thing. But what’s the right thing?”

She laughs. “Really? You’re asking me?”

I look at her. “You know, Aislin, I don’t always agree with what you do. But you are a good person. All the way, deep down, you’re a good person.”

She squeezes my hand, but she doesn’t believe me.

“Tell me, Aislin. What do I do?”

Tags: Michael Grant Eve & Adam
Source: readsnovelonline.net