Aftermath Book Two Crash Series

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mason

            A tint of red covers everything in my sight as if I’m looking through a camera filter on my phone. I’ve been trying to blink it away since I woke up this morning with no luck, only further aggravation. There are multiple computer screens pulled up and active, I can hear the ding of endless new messages but the words blur together after only a few moments of looking at the screen.

            My hands are trembling with barely suppressed rage. The need to express it or relieve the building pressure only increased as yesterday wore on. Watching Aria walk in, scared of her own shadow, worse of her own home. Our home, that fueled a fire that was already out of control. If she didn’t manage to injure herself in the process I would have tracked my father down right then and there. He should send Crash a thank you card. I’m sure I’ll be letting him know any minute now. 

           There isn’t much more I can do or much longer I can contain myself before I snap, even the people in the office won’t be a big enough barrier to keep my father safe. I might damage my reputation in the process but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. There isn’t a cell in my body that’s capable of allowing him to continue thinking that what he did has no consequence, while he plots and plans. The more time he has the more time he’ll spend looking for our weakness. I won’t allow him that privilege and I’m going to make damn sure he knows it.

            For the first time in my life my father is going to listen to me. And I mean really listen when I walk out of his office there will be no doubts left in his mind about how far I’m willing to go to protect my family.

            The memory of soft golden curls and a warm smile pierces me in the chest. The picture behind my lids the only relief I have from the red rimming my vision. She’s a beauty worthy of protection and a life well-lived. In safety and comfort. And most importantly peace.

            Banging the mouse on my desk doesn’t help anything but I do it anyway. I wonder if it’s too early to pour some Scotch? Maybe it shouldn’t matter on a day like today, or a year like this one. Would it really help? No, it’ll just give Edward an excuse to run with. Blame my words or actions on the alcohol rather than the truth and emotion behind them. Or it’d make my already thin temper snap when the moment does come. A moment that’s fast approaching.

            I set my alarm earlier than usual, spent longer in the gym, and avoided Aria at all costs. I can’t look at her without feeling my guilt and her pain. How long will she stay in my arms whether by death, injury, or choice, if I continue to fail at every turn?  

            I’m not a spitting image of my father but the similarities are there, will there be a day when she sees more of him than me? Will she pull away from the trauma that haunts her nightmares, the trauma induced by the hands of my own father? My own tormentor.

            He’s been manipulating me since the thought of conception, before I had a name he had plans already in place with backup plans indexed and waiting to force me back on his predetermined path if the need arose. Early on I had no idea what he was doing, I was so starved for his attention and love I took whatever I could.

            He rarely took Jaxson or me into the office but there were a few times when he felt pressured by Grandpa or Grandma. The first few times I was psyched. Everyone around me was always talking about how important Grandpa and Dad were. At some events, it seemed like there were more people lined up to talk to them than there was time available. In my eyes, they were akin to being famous.

            So when our nanny woke us up that first morning telling us to get ready to go into Dad’s work my mind was spinning. My imagination was running wild and free. It was largely disappointed.

            As soon as we got there Dad paraded us around the office but here there weren’t any warm and fuzzy reunions. No one was trying to catch my dad's attention or either of ours. Conversations seemed to still and eyes were diverted when he walked in the room. Well, moments before I could hear laughter and friendly conversation pouring from their direction the next the temperature dropped and all laughter ceased. The people around us would retreat from their co-worker's sides back to their own cubicles or offices. They kept their gaze down and their shoulder slumped in as if to avoid all notice. Or walked casually to blend in with enough confidence to say I was doing nothing wrong.

          I recognized the same characteristics from at home. Ray, our nanny and many of the household staff acted similarly. They were friendly enough with us, especially when we were very young, they were often our source of joy or any form of enjoyment at home. They often forgot there were proper and improper topics in front of the family and would act like normal people when just Jaxson and I were around. But the second my father or mother stepped into the room they got quiet and pulled away so they could busy themselves with anything within in their grasps.

            The change was often so jarring it didn’t take long for Jaxson and I both to start doing the same. We’d busy ourselves while we cut off our laughs and diverted our eyes. We knew better than to give them too much attention, they’d get lost in rants over what was proper or not, correlating with the recent gossip that seemed to be the only thing of importance. They were sure to imprint on us everything we must never do, the list far outweighing anything they found acceptable for us to do.

            The surprise I felt when I noticed the same reaction from his coworkers in the office was confusing and I didn’t fully understand it then. Why was everyone scared of him when others seemed to respected him even admire him? Was he never nice or considerate? I couldn’t stop wondering how he made friends, or if he really had any at all.           

            Stupidly I thought maybe he’d be nicer if we could help him make some friends. A plan was quick to form, we knew how to make friends. We had plenty when we got a day at the park and during the year when they send us to school, there’s a lot of kids there that like us just fine.

            How naive I was. He wasn’t a likable person, he still isn’t. He’d rather wield his power and threats over anyone’s head with not an ounce of remorse as he still does. He cares nothing of real respect or responsibility of authority. His sole focus has always and will always be his end goal. Whatever that may be, I’m still not one hundred percent sure. But I know it gets him in the best light with the most prestige possible.

            How wrong he’ll find himself. Oh, how f*****g impatient I am to see his face when I take him down. I’m going to frame his mug shot and hang it in my f*****g living room for all guests to see. He’ll be rotting in a jail cell while I’m holding my beautiful klutz and running his company in directions that will for sure make his heart stop.

            However, right now. Right here, sitting at my desk being unproductive and thoroughly distracted I can no longer sit still nor suppress the rage. the reminders are all around me and only forcing me to look back on painful memories and terrible futures. I don’t have it in me to pretend, or wear a mask I so regularly don.

            It’s no longer my father that stills the room and has people scurrying, today it’s me. My hands are tucked in my pockets, pressed tightly against my thighs. I don’t want anyone knowing how far off the brink I am, sure they see something is up, they normally don’t have an issue walking my way or sending me a smile. But even Michelle slams her ass down in the chair the moment she feels my hard glares and licking inferno.

            Aria felt it last night, with her we merge, her flames accept my own, embrace them and make them into something beautiful and earth-changing. They turn passionate and protective. But to everyone else their just means of warning of the possible devastation they’ll leave in their ashes. They sense it now in my tightly held shoulders and clenched jaw.

            My steps seem to rock the floor and echo with a warning. My eyes are laser-focused, my father's office door the target. I couldn’t tell you if my heart is beating too fast or too slow or if anyone around me is talking or not. All I feel is rage and determination. A little excitement.

            I don’t bother with his secretary, I don’t even glance in her direction. I walk straight by her desk helping myself to his door. The hinges don’t squeak as I open it, nor do I call out. My entrance could be mistaken if my anger wasn’t so obviously seeking attention. The second I step in the door his head swings up from between a paper he’s reading on his desk.

            His eyebrows lift in surprise or anticipation I’m not sure but I make out the slip in his emotionless mask before he leans back and collects himself. Did he really think I wouldn’t come? Or that Aria and Connor wouldn’t tell me what transpired? He knows I cut my trip short, only just but enough to rapidly book a new flight in the middle of the night. He’s expecting me, I’m curious to see where he tries to take this.