Dirtyliar
1026 Words
NORA'S POV
My eyes remained glued to the clock as I waited for my parents’ arrival. It had been an entire week since the chaos between Zane and me. He’d barely been home, and honestly? I enjoyed the solitude. Except—I never recalled agreeing to any peace treaty between us.
The door shuffled open right on time as Zane walked in. A disgusted frown was sprawled across his face as he sank into the couch, far away from mine.
"What did you do this time, SinDoll?" he asked with a smirk, grinning from ear to ear. I feigned ignorance. He was in for it—he just didn’t know it yet.
"I’m waiting on our parents. They’re back from their honeymoon, and here I was thinking you passed out drunk in a bin or something," I responded, ignoring the dramatic eye roll he threw at the end of my words.
The loud honking of a car pulling into the driveway cut off any other smart remark I had. I tried holding in my laughter. This wasn’t how it was meant to end, but I'd rather have Zane corrected once and for all. He shouldn’t mess with me—or things that belonged to me either.
The door pushed open and both our parents walked in, looking glum and distracted.
"Zane. Nora," Richard greeted with a slow smile and a subtle nod before sinking into the couch. I tried to mirror a fake smile for my mother—the same woman who once called me a burden.
"So, what was it you had to say that had us moving out of our honeymoon a week earlier?" Mom asked, sounding far more tired than I expected. Something was wrong. They looked happy before they left—but now? I couldn’t put my finger on it.
"It’s Zane. He… he hit me. When you guys weren’t home. And when I told him I’d file a report, he burned me." I lied, lifting the side of my shirt. The hot, scalding burns were visible. I’d spent torturous hours getting it right—dipping a thin piece of metal into the fireplace before pressing it into my skin. I’d taken pictures of my room too, which he trashed that day.
"I didn’t! You nitwit!" Zane retorted, storming over to me as a mist of tears formed in my eyes.
"If anything, she’s the one who stabbed me!"
"In self-defense," I cut in, a frightened screech tearing from my lips as Zane stood inches away.
"Get off her!" Richard yelled in a cold, menacing tone, his voice echoing throughout the room.
"I trashed the room, yes. But she stabbed me—I didn’t hit her! I’d never lay my hands on a woman. She's not even worth it—she’s a liar. A bloody nutjob! On the loose, I swear it!" Zane stammered, his voice faltering at the end.
I reached for my phone and pulled up an image of my trashed room. Crocodile tears streamed down my cheeks, and a strangled sob escaped my lips.
"He threatened to kill me. Said he’d have me drowned. Said he’d—"
"I said nothing of the sort!" Zane yelled again, sounding more pissed than ever. His eyebrows twitched, fists clenched at his sides, a feral growl strapped to the ends of his words.
"Enough!" Richard shouted once again. My mom stood, her face drained of color like the blood had been sucked right out.
"I knew letting you stay here was a mistake," Richard said coldly. His words held a deeper meaning, judging by the hurt that flashed in Zane’s eyes.
"Your mother… she started just like this. Until she burned down the house—with herself in it. And here you are. That same psychotic glint in your damn eyes! Are you off the meds?" he barked with a curse that made me flinch.
Things were spiraling. My mother wrapped her arms around me as Zane stuttered, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding his father’s gaze.
"You are. Off the meds."
"I’m not crazy! I’m not… I’m not my mother!" Zane shouted. His voice barely above a whisper.
And then it hit me.
He had some kind of disorder. And judging by my mother's silence—she knew. All along.
"I’m sorry about this, Nora. He… he has a history of self-harm. And his so-called pets? Always end up dead one way or another," Richard said, swallowing thickly.
A cold chill ran down my spine at the sudden realization of what I’d done.
"Get your bags. Pack whatever you can fit into a duffel. You’re leaving for military school today."
"What?" Zane asked, staggering backward.
"You heard me, child. Get in and get out! You have ten minutes," Richard repeated, not breaking a sweat.
"Maybe it’s not that bad. He should—"
"Stay out of it, Nora. He’s useless. And a whole lot of problems. I’d rather he’s gone. I don’t want him here anymore," Richard snapped, his tone final.
"No… you can’t, the b***h is—"
A loud, reverberating sound echoed across the room as Richard slapped Zane hard across the face.
I stood frozen, heart thumping harder in my chest, as Zane raised his hate-filled gaze and locked eyes with mine.
Another slap.
"Get moving! Now!" Richard yelled again. A short cry escaped from Zane as he wiped the tears off his face, standing up straight.
"I won’t need to pack anything. I’d rather leave this bloody madhouse anyway," he whispered—his voice suddenly cold, distant, like a whole different person.
He leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear.
"I’ll be back for you, SinDoll… try to stay alive ‘til then. Or let me do it. I’ll murder you with my bare hands."
A strong set of Richard’s hands dragged him back and away from me, toward the door. I watched in silence as it slammed shut hard enough to rattle the walls.
And then I listened.
Waited.
My breath held in as the sound of Richard’s car revved, driving Zane out of the compound—and hopefully, out of my life.
- Writer
