Deviant

Chapter 7

Elias

Fucking Sheriff Hawthorne.

The bastard loves to wield that higher-than-though attitude of his against those he believes to be beneath him. He sure didn’t mince words to convey his low opinion of me tonight.

Not that I didn’t already know how he felt about me.

Most of this town loves to remind me how much of a persona-non-grata I am in their book.

Still, it chafed my nerves that he thought lecturing me on proper etiquette was acceptable. I can still hear his voice in my ear telling me to be more empathetic to people’s sensibilities, and that I should understand that my very presence at such a meeting could be triggering to some of the families who lost their loved ones to The Scourge.

The fucker made it sound like I’m personally responsible for that shit.

Well, fuck that, and fuck him and the high horse he came in with.

I had every right to attend the town hall meeting. I don’t care whose feathers got ruffled.

However, I suspect the true reason why Hank felt the need to pull me aside and give me a lecture was because the mayor put him up to it.

Yeah.

Davenport was the only one who got his panties in a bunch.

Fucking pussy.

If he was a real man, he’d come and talk to me himself instead of sending his lackey.

To put an end to the conversation, I had to remind the good sheriff that I’m currently the head of my household since my mother is too frail to make decisions for our family, much less attend meetings.

Of course, the fucker was quick to remind me that Aidan was old enough now to represent the Larsen family.

Yeah, like that shit-for-brains even paid attention to any of it.

He was too busy eyeballing me and eye-fucking the mayor’s daughter on stage, with a silent Rowen sitting by his side, looking every bit like a Stepford wife.

I don’t get it.

I really don’t.

Is she that blind or just fucking clueless?

Or does she just not give a shit?

Whatever her damage, it gave me great pleasure telling Hank that he should worry about his own kid rather than anyone else’s.

That shut him up real quick.

Unfortunately for me, by the time I get home, I’m still unable to shake this pissed-off energy running through my bloodstream. If I didn’t have my boss’s wife looking after my mom so I could attend the meeting, I would have gone for a long drive up the mountains or gotten piss drunk at some bar just to blow off some steam.

But my mom always comes first.

No matter the mood I’m in.

“How is she?” I ask once I step into my house.

“Sound asleep,” Alice says cheerfully.

“Yeah? So it was a quiet night?”

“The quietest,” she confirms, her bright smile dimming somewhat. “I did have a bit of trouble feeding her, though. She barely ate three spoonfuls of the soup you made her.”

“Yeah. It’s the meds. They take away her appetite,” I groan, running my fingers through my hair.

“That and also the fact that she’s starting to have difficulties swallowing,” Alice adds with concern while putting her jacket over her scrubs. “When is she due to see Dr. Mitchell again?”

“I’m supposed to take her to see him Monday morning.”

“Good. I’ll see if I can switch my shift at the hospital to be on call then, too. That way, I can explain anything you don’t understand after seeing him. Mitchell loves to use fancy words, and doesn’t understand that speaking plainly is just as efficient.”

“You don’t have to do that, Alice. You and Rick have helped me enough as it is.”

It’s true.

Rick helped me out by giving me a job at his garage when no one in this town wanted to have anything to do with me. And Alice has been a godsend, coming over every day to give my mother a bath and attend to her personal hygiene. I know my mom appreciates it as well. It gives her a little bit of dignity in not having to rely on her sons to do such intimate tasks.

“Now, don’t you even start, Elias Larsen. If the tables were reversed, you’d do the same thing for us.” She smiles, giving me a little pat on the shoulder. “Are you okay taking it from here? Or do you need me to stay a little longer?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Goodnight, kiddo.” I laugh at her remark because I haven’t been called that in years.

I don’t think, even as a child, anyone dared call me ‘kiddo,’ save for my mom. But Alice has that maternal quality about her that prevents me from taking offense from such a harmless endearment.

After watching Alice get in her car and drive off, I walk back inside to take a small peek into my mother’s bedroom and check up on her.

Just like Alice said, my mom is fast asleep.

I glance over at her nightstand, frowning at the numerous orange prescription bottles, some half full and others almost empty. Whatever money we received from The Scourge last year is long gone., it’s long gone. Most of it went into those little tablets she has to take on the daily.

In the beginning, they seemed to work, but now…

There is no medicine out there that can save my mother.

But at least she can sleep.

At least she has that.

It’s a small blessing, but one that I’m fucking grateful for.

I gently close her bedroom door behind me and knock on Aidan’s door, not surprised to find an empty room. Of course, the fucker wouldn’t come home early tonight. Not when he knew there was someone else looking after our mother.

Maybe it’s for the best he’s not home tonight.

I’m still in a mood, and Aidan has a knack for knowing what buttons to push.

Needing to unwind, I walk over to the kitchen, grab a six-pack from the fridge, and go outside to the porch, preferring to chain-smoke the night away while getting a little light buzz going.

But as I crack open a beer and light up a cigarette, tonight’s events come to the forefront of my mind, reminding me how Blackwater Falls is run by a bunch of sanctimonious pricks.

That whole spiel from the mayor about how his precious daughter is now eligible to be selected for the harvest reeked of him trying to garner sympathy to win more voter points. Leveraging such a thing just so he can guarantee next year’s election is all sorts of fucked up.

Not that anyone in the auditorium saw through his bullshit.

In fact, they lapped it all up.

They’ll probably even start a prayer circle just so his daughter isn’t called upon.

Fucking sheep.

And don’t even get me started on our town’s pathetic excuse of a sheriff.

The audacity of him telling me… me, to stay home the next time there is a meeting.

Like he can order me around.

As if it were his right.

‘Everyone in this town sacrifices one thing or another for the greater good. You can at least do the decent thing of sacrificing your pride and prevent further heartache for those who lost their loved ones. It’s not too much to ask, is it, son?’

“I’m not your fucking son,” I belt out, whiteknuckling the beer bottle in my hand as I recall his words.

What does he know of sacrifice anyway?

Fuck.

Okay.

Maybe he knows a thing or two.

He did lose his wife, Sarah, to The Scourge when Rowen was basically still a toddler.

I was ten when it happened.

Rowen must have been five or six at the time.

I only remember the event vividly for two reasons—the first because Rowen’s mom had been my fourth-grade teacher the previous year and I kind of liked how funny she was, and the second because it was unheard of a mom ever being selected for the Harvest Dozen.

This town never saw that happen before Sarah, nor since.

Perhaps it was a test to see just how much heartache one town could stomach—if we would retaliate or just submit to our fate like we always do.

Almost fifteen years later, and we’re still submitting, so I guess they got their answer.

I remember something else about that particular time, too—how Rowen clung to Nora as if she were her lifeline. No, not lifeline… her very reason for being.

It was fucking creepy and weird as shit, but at the time, I just assumed that the poor kid was traumatized and dealing with her mom’s death the best way she could. I was even proud of my kid sister for being mature enough at such a young age to be there for her friend.

If only I knew then what I know now.

Fine.

So the Hawthorne family has suffered its fair share of disappointment and loss, but those fuckers owe me a debt that they can never fully repay.

Rowen owes me for murdering Nora, and her prick of a father owes me for covering it up.

Suicidal overdose, my ass.

Nora would never touch any drug, much less fentanyl.

I know… knew my sister.

She was a health junkie and would never poison her body with any such thing.

Fuck me.

I lost count of all the times Nora would leave pamphlets lying all around the house about how cigarettes kill millions a year just to get me to quit smoking.

The thing is… I never had the heart to tell her that living in Blackwater Falls meant our lives were already forfeited one way or another. Breathing in an array of toxins from cigarettes was far less harmless in comparison to the cancer that living in this town provoked within our psyche. A lesser mind would go bonkers just thinking about it.

Luckily for me, my mind is a fucking fortress that no one can corrupt that easily.

Well… maybe one can.

Rowen Hawthorne springs to mind.

She’s sure been doing a number on my head lately.

But she’ll get hers in the end.

I’ll make sure to collect my debt—in blood.