Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

20. Chapter Twenty

A pitch-black moonless sky looms through the windows, but I can’t close my eyes whilst knowing what’s waiting for me out there. An unforgiving world of lies and deceit. The vibrations that woke me have long since gone silent, but sleep won’t come again tonight.

Rubbing a hand down my face roughly, I pace in a circle at the foot of my bed, scuffing my slippers against the wooden floor. An old-fashioned clock on the chest of drawers ticks insistently, reminding me of the ungodly hour. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s not the clock’s fault. My life is a sham and every second that passes is a reminder of time lost. Of what I could have had if one man’s selfish need to save his own daughters didn’t change the course of my life. Nixon chose to protect them. Avery and some other brat, safely stashed away, whilst my face was splashed across the papers and paraded around on TV. I thought the Hughes liked to show me off. Their poster boy. Their perfect son. And none of it was real.

Groaning, I stride for the door. I can’t stay in here another minute with that fucking clock or else it will be smashed into a million pieces. I refuse to be reckless in Rachel’s home. Supposedly I’m the man of the house now, but I can’t claim to be. Pride and love is etched into every polished surface and well-coordinated curtain. Rachel has worked too hard for a practical stranger to enter and lay claim to it.

Wrenching the door open, I decide to hunt down some of those pink pills I’m given every morning. Since Ray’s passing two days ago, I started taking them in the evenings too. They must be herbal or some shit ‘cause they work wonders for my stress levels, but they don’t keep the nightmares at bay.

Speaking of nightmares, as I reach the top of the blackened staircase, a recurring one becomes visible at the base. The uneven shadow of a body is cast across the bottom step. A shiver rolls through my spine, a slight tremble shifting into my fingers.

At this distance, I merely see a black shape that’s growing darker by the second but in my mind’s eye, I can image every tiny detail. His thinning hair and gaunt cheeks, endless glassy eyes that I will forever see staring back at me in the mirror. The images get worse every time, turning him into more of a corpse. Intensifying my desire to hide under my covers and never leave.

“ It’s not real, it’s not real, ” I whisper to myself as I creep slowly down the stairs in a set of plaid pajamas. As soon as my slippers hit the cold flooring, I turn right and half-run for the kitchen at the back of the house. The terrace outside the glass doors is swallowed by the night, casting everything around me into darkness. There isn’t another soul about, just me and the visions that refuse to leave me alone.

Walking through the kitchen doorway, the eerie outline has moved to appear by the fridge. I know I can’t outrun my own mind, but I flinch anyway. Gritting my teeth, I stride past and yank the fridge door open, the delusion disappearing in the bright light which glows from within. Pulling out the other half of the meatball sub I couldn’t stomach earlier, I close the door and lean against the counter. Glancing around, I cautiously eat, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

Cooking is another one of Rachel’s fantastic traits, along with keeping this huge house spotless. I don’t know why she does it. Even before a few days ago, Rachel has the money to never need to lift a finger for the rest of her days. She should be relaxing by the heated pool and being waited on by the hordes of staff she could employ. My only guess is she invented ways to distract herself from her son’s missing presence. She’s the one who lost everything.

Devouring the sub in record time, I turn to rinse off the plate when a burst of movement explodes against the window. A bird propels itself into the air, all feathers and wings, sending my heart into overdrive as I reel back on instinct. The plate in my hand slips and smashes against the floor.

“Fuck’s sake!” I yell, spinning away only to find the darkened shape sprawled across the floor again. This time, his legs are twisted unnaturally, a look of horror on his pale face. I’m losing my mind, splintering from the inside out.

Gripping the sides of my head hard enough to crack my skull in two, I clench my eyes shut and slide down the cupboard to hunch on the floor. Voices spring to life in my mind, swirling and shouting. They grow louder and louder, blurring into a whirlwind but one voice stands out amongst the rest. Ray’s crackled tone bleeds through, full of conviction.

He stole you from me.

I barely knew Ray. Not enough to mourn him, but that’s the point. I’m mourning a life I could have known, a family I should have had. Whether I convince myself that Ray held on just long enough to meet me or not, I treasure those few days. It wouldn’t have been the same being shown a photograph and expected to create a connection which wasn’t there. At least I got to hear his voice, feel his hand wrap around mine, to see the admiration in his eyes. He was proud of me. I choke on a sob. A man that didn’t even know me was proud, yet the one I’ve been trying to please for twenty-one years looks at me with disgust.

I’ve never wished death on anyone. But I would have swapped out Ray for Nixon any day. In what cruel world should Nixon, who abducted me and blackmailed my real parents from getting me back, carry on winning? Ray will never breathe another breath, see another sunset or have another chance to kiss his wife. I throw my head back against the cabinet, not registering the pain. It’s so unjust, but one thing is clear. Ray wanted revenge, and it’s become my duty to get it for him.

Something touches my shoulder. On instinct, my hand lashes out to catch the wrist in a tight grip. At Rachel’s whimper, my dampened eyes shoot open and I jump to my feet.

“Oh shit, Rachel I’m so sorry.” I babble and fuss over her forearm but she takes my hand in hers gently and smiles. I slide up her sleeve to check for a mark anyway, despite it being too dark to see properly but needing to check she’s okay.

“Don’t worry, Love. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” The worry etched into her face for my well-being brings more tears to my eyes. I just assaulted her and all she cares about is me. Some invisible dam inside me is breached. Rachel pulls me into her shoulder and holds me while I cry like an infant with a grazed knee, running her hands over my back and stroking my hair. Her sweet scent envelopes me, the fluffy material of her dressing gown brushing against my cheek.

“I’m so sick of crying,” I whisper as my warring emotions start to ease in her presence, “But Ray won’t leave me alone.” Rachel stands me upright to assess me with her brown eyes, complete understanding shining in them. She doesn’t need an explanation, nor does she tell me to man up. Just lifts my hand to kiss the back of it and pulls me across the kitchen to a cupboard on the far side.

Pulling a key from her large front pocket, she pushes it into a tiny lock in the cupboard I hadn’t noticed before, wedged into the corner. Rising to her tiptoes, she pulls a long box from the middle shelf. The box is split into seven sections, each one with the initial for the day of the week. Flicking open the ‘W’, Rachel picks out two of the small pink vitamins and places them into my palm. As I chuck them into my mouth without hesitation, Rachel reaches up to cup my cheek lovingly, the warmth radiating from her palm allowing my body to finally relax.

“Let’s get you some warm milk and back to bed. Everything will seem better in the morning, I promise.” Mimicking her smile, I can’t help but believe her. Watching her rounded frame move around the kitchen, not a single shadowed illusion tries to find me. Soon enough, she is escorting me back to my room with a steaming mug nestled between my hands.

“How are you so strong?” I whisper, fighting against the vulnerability pouring off me in waves. Rachel has just lost her husband, yet she’s caring for me like I’m a fraction of my age. Perhaps it’s what she needs, what she’s been waiting for.

Opening her mouth to answer, a thundering boom sounds across the foyer. We pause on the bottom stair, an instinctual need to protect Rachel forcing my back to straight. The booming comes again, heavy pounding against the front door. Taking a step away, Rachel tugs on my arm and shakes her head. Within an instant, two security guards dressed all in black storm from the side wing. Hints of metal gleam from their hips and their boots are neatly laced. They were on duty, lingering in the shadows I was recently screaming at. I don’t have time to ponder on that as the lights are flicked on.

“Get out of my way,” a rough voice barks as soon as the door is cracked open. The vitamins Rachel just gave me aren’t enough to suppress the sledgehammer of emotion that strikes my chest. I grip my T-shirt, choking on a gasp. No. Not here. Not yet. But there’s no stopping the man who stomps into the foyer, flanked by the guards with their hands on their guns.

“You have no right to be here,” Rachel steps forward, her hands free of the steaming mug. It’s been forgotten on a side table. I’m warm at the way she tries to stand in front of me, but I gently move her aside. I’m scared of a great deal of things and the aging man opposite me is not one of them.

“I knew exactly where you’d run off to,” Nixon spits at me accusingly. As if I’ve been caught out for being at Ray’s mansion. His voice is like a bucket of ice water has been thrown over my head, washing out all of the confusion I was so recently drowning in. I see with clarity now, and that clarity is twinged with rage. “It’s time to leave. Avery needs you.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. A stream of hysterics, the irony tickling me in the bitterest of places. “That’s fucking rich!” I hold my waist. Nixon doesn’t see the funny side. Standing at my height in his slacks and button down shirt, his graying head pushed back in the same way I like to wear mine, I start to notice the differences between us. Where the learnt behavior and the natural genetics differ. He’s no father of mine and never has been, but that doesn’t stop his disappointment flaring.

“Seriously Wyatt, I gave you one simple task and you can only think about yourself like usual.” I’m stunned silent for a second, before my eyebrows crease and the anger seeps back in.

“I’ve already told you. I’m not a fucking babysitter.” I seethe, wanting to call him out for all the lies so badly but needing to hold my cards close to my chest. I’m going to avenge Ray and take back control of the life I was meant to have, but a quick outburst in the foyer won’t do it. I need to be strategic. I need to bide my time. I need to be like Ray.

“We have to go, Wyatt,” Nixon repeats, quickly losing his patience. “Avery is on her way to a safe house of mine. I’ll take you there.”

“You think I’m going to leave Rachel to look after Avery?” I roll my eyes. I’m not leaving, and to prove it, I reach out and take Rachel’s hand. Nixon tracks the movement and sighs loudly, his tone relaxing slightly.

“I figured you’d feel differently considering this.” Withdrawing a piece of folded paper out of his pocket, Nixon reaches across the space to hand it to me. The guards at his back tense, veins popping out of their arms with the tight grip on their guns. It’s then I realize, they’re waiting for my command to remove Nixon. They think I’m their boss now.

Taking the paper, I unfold it for the briefest moment and instantly snap it shut again. I don’t need to read it to know what it says.

“Where did you get this?” I crumple the page in my hand. My heart is jackhammering in my chest, a rush of adrenaline fighting with the pills I recently took. Perhaps I’m paranoid but the chain reaction of those two components takes root until my hand is shaking around the paper and blood is roaring in my ears. I’m going to vomit, faint and/or die - probably all in that order. Nixon smiles then, an eerie expression on his aged face.

“You have your sources, I have mine. Get in the fucking car. We need to talk.” Turning on his heel, Nixon leaves. The security guards follow him out, keeping close and vigilant. It allows me a brief moment to look at Rachel, who’s already smiling sweetly.

“Do what you have to do. I’ll be here when you’re ready to come home.” If only she knew that those words nearly brought me to my knees with the desire to hug her legs. Not trusting myself to linger, I place a quick kiss on her cheek.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” Without a second look, I walk out of Rachel’s world, regretting every step I put between us.