Chapter Nineteen — Hatred & Disgusted
822 Words
The screams echoed through the house.
Loud. Shrill. Filled with fury.
"You b***h! You killed him!"
Naomi’s eyes snapped open.
Her breath hitched.
She scrambled out of bed, her heart hammering. Who was screaming?
She didn’t have to wonder for long.
The moment she reached the staircase, she saw her stepmother.
A wild, raging storm.
Her face was contorted in fury, eyes bloodshot, her chest heaving.
"How dare you?" she shrieked. "How f*****g dare you?"
Naomi felt the ground tilt beneath her.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
The woman let out a hysterical laugh.
"Oh, so now you’ll act all innocent?"
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
The air felt wrong.
Something wasn’t right.
Her stepmother took a step forward, eyes burning with pure venom.
"My husband's corpse is lying in my f*****g house! Beaten to a f*****g pulp! You did this!"
Naomi's breath left her in a violent rush.
What?
No.
No, that couldn’t be—
This isn’t happening.
It felt like the world was crashing in slow motion.
She shook her head. "You’re lying."
"AM I, YOU SLUT?"
And then—
A slap.
Sharp. Brutal.
Naomi’s head snapped to the side, pain exploding across her cheek.
But before she could even react, her stepmother’s fingers fisted in her hair, yanking hard enough to make her stumble forward.
Naomi let out a small cry of pain.
Rhys’s men moved instantly.
"Let go of her!"
They grabbed the raging woman, pulling her away.
But Naomi barely registered it.
Everything felt blurry.
Distant.
Her father was dead?
No.
That couldn’t be.
That was a lie.
She needed to see it.
Her breath came out ragged as she turned to the nearest guard.
"I want to go home."
The man hesitated. "That’s not pos—"
Naomi didn’t let him finish.
Her fingers curled around the knife on the kitchen counter.
The cold steel pressed against her throat.
Gasps filled the air.
The men froze.
"Let me go," she whispered. "Or I swear, I’ll do it."
The blade was so close to her skin, a thin line of blood already dripping down her collarbone.
The guards exchanged glances.
A silent nod.
"I’ll get the car," one of them muttered.
And just like that—
Naomi was free.
—
She could barely breathe.
Could barely think.
The car ride was silent, the air thick, suffocating.
She gripped the knife tightly, fingers trembling.
Her mind raced.
Her father couldn’t be dead.
This had to be some kind of sick joke.
And yet—
The moment she stepped into her childhood home, the stench of blood hit her.
Her body locked up.
And then she saw him.
Lying on the floor.
Cold. Motionless.
His face bruised beyond recognition.
His chest marred by a bullet wound.
A pool of dried blood beneath him.
Naomi’s breath caught.
Her ears rang.
The world blurred around her.
Her stepmother’s voice was a distant noise.
Screaming. Cursing.
Calling her a murderer.
A w***e.
A cursed, filthy thing.
Naomi didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
She didn’t even cry.
Didn’t blink.
It was like she was outside of her body.
Like she wasn’t even here.
She felt numb.
So, so numb.
And then—
A sudden, sharp pain.
Her stepmother had grabbed the knife.
And she was lunging.
Straight for Naomi’s chest.
But before the blade could pierce her—
A gunshot.
A deafening crack in the air.
Naomi flinched.
A dark, towering figure stepped in front of her.
Rhys.
His presence was commanding, his aura lethal.
His eyes—so dark, they looked soulless.
He wrenched the knife from her stepmother’s grip, flinging it across the room.
His voice was a low, dangerous growl.
"What the f**k do you think you’re doing?"
The woman staggered back.
Her entire body shaking.
Rhys turned to Naomi.
Their eyes met.
She felt something crack inside her chest.
"Rhys."
His jaw clenched. "I’m here, sweetheart."
Her voice wobbled.
"Tell me you didn’t do this."
Silence.
A cold, deafening silence.
Rhys didn’t move.
Didn’t say a single word.
Naomi felt like she was suffocating.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Her nails dug into her palm, hard enough to break skin.
Her breath came out sharp.
"You did this," she whispered.
Rhys exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.
"You don’t understand."
"Then make me understand."
He didn’t.
Didn’t say a word.
And Naomi knew.
She f*****g knew.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
Her throat closed up.
She wanted to scream.
To cry.
But she did neither.
Instead—
She shut down.
Her body went rigid.
Her face blanked.
And when she spoke again, her voice was cold.
"I hate you."
Rhys froze.
Naomi’s stare was unforgiving.
Her eyes—those beautiful, broken eyes—held nothing but resentment.
And this time, she meant it.
She turned away from him.
Walked past him.
Like he was nothing.
And for the first time in his entire life—
Rhys Kain felt helpless.
- Writer
