Page 32 of The Wolf

“Calm down?” I asked as I whipped around. “You think I'm fucking crazy? I'm not crazy. I know I'm not fucking crazy. And neither was my mother. You did that to her. You fucked with her mind.” I poked my temple with my finger and sneered. “And then you killed her.”

My father's jaw stiffened as his teeth clenched. “You don't know what you're talking about.” His voice was low and threatening. “I suggest you stop before you really dig yourself into a hole.”

“I remember all of it. And you're going to pay for what you did.

I promise you, I won't let you get away with it. I just want to know why? Why did you do that? Why did you take her from me?” My voice began to rise as my emotions took over.

All the sadness and loneliness and loss I felt from the years without my mother came out.

“She was my mother! My mother!” I yelled as I slapped my chest. “And you took her from me!”

My father held up his hands and flicked his eyes to his chair. “Can I sit?” he asked calmly.

I just glared at him. My jaw locked up tight, and my teeth ground against each other. “Why did you do it?” I demanded.

My nostrils flared wide as my hands turned to fists. The sharp edges of my nails dug into my palms, but I didn't flinch at the pain. It felt good. It was a release. It kept me grounded and stopped me from leaping across the room to strangle him to death.

My father tilted his head as if he felt some form of compassion for my pain and distress. “Look, Pumpkin—”

“Don't fucking call me that,” I barked.

He held up a hand and nodded. “Poppy, I don't know where you're coming up with this, but you're wrong. Why don't you sit so we can talk? Tell me where you've been.”

“No. I came here because I wanted answers,” I said through my teeth as I snarled. “Tell me everything. I deserve the truth.”

My father slipped into the chair, relaxed back, and steepled his fingers together.

He tapped his outstretched fingers to his mouth as he peered at me.

“Let's say you're right. Say I did kill your mother. What the hell are you going to do about it?” A thin smile began to take shape on his lips.

“You're just as crazy as she was. No one is going to believe you over me.”

“We both know I'm not crazy.” I pulled Vega's gun out from behind my back. “I think you need a little motivation. Why did you kill my mother?!” I screamed.

My father held up both hands. Yet, I didn't see any fear in his eyes.

There was no remorse or regret. He just looked empty.

“Come on now, there's no need for this. Put the gun down, Poppy.

You want answers. I get that. You lost your mother at a young age, and it's hard for you to come to terms with it.

But this isn't the way to do things. That gun doesn't change anything.”

“Maybe not right this minute,” I said. I held the gun firmly in both hands and walked closer. “But maybe if I place it right between your eyes, you'll remember the truth like I do.”

My father didn't flinch. Not one muscle trembled with fear. His eyes didn't widen with shock. Instead, his mouth tightened, and his hands clenched. I could see the thick vein in his neck as he swallowed.

“You think holding a gun to my head is going to change something?” His lids lowered, and he arched one of his brows. “You have a lot to learn.”

“Why did you do this to me? Why couldn't you just let us go?” The gun was shaking in my hand as I aimed it right at his head.

“Because I don't lose anything, including you and your mother. I'm the one who decides if you can go. Not you. Not your mother. Me. And when she took you without telling me, when she dared to leave the country without my permission, she sealed her fate.”

“You did it because of control? That's it? You killed my mother and tried to kill me, all because you wanted to keep us under your thumb?”

He bobbled his head from side to side. “That's a part of it. Your mother was also trying to destroy everything I worked for. I put too much into this to let that whore of a mother of yours fuck it all up. She was going to go to the cops. I couldn't have that.”

My jaw fell open, eyes darting between his. “You're a monster.”

“No, Poppy. Monsters hide in the dark. I've been out in the open the entire time.”

“You haven't been out in the open. You've just been parading around in a costume, but I see you now. And I'm not going to let you get away with this. You need to pay for what you've done.”

“Pumpkin, I already got away with it.” My father smiled as he tilted his head tauntingly. “The police think your mother killed herself, and guess what? They're going to think the same for you, too.”

I let the gun drop to my side as I grinned. “No, they're not.” I pulled the phone from my back pocket and showed him the running recording.

My father bared his teeth, and without warning, he jumped from his seat and lunged forward, trying to grab the gun from my hand. I attempted to move out of the way, but he tackled me to the ground.

We wrestled for the gun. He was grabbing it, and I was trying to pull it away and keep control of it.

My father was grunting and growling and mumbling as we rolled around on the ground.

I was doing my best to not let go. If he got the gun from me, there was no doubt in my mind that I'd be dead.

I was going to turn his world upside down with his own admission.

I felt a hard thud to my stomach, which knocked the wind out of my chest. I tried to take a deep breath but couldn't. My lungs were on fire, and my stomach muscles were clenched tight.

I looked down to see the end of a knife sticking out of my gut.

The gun was no longer in my hand. I didn't even know where it went.

My eyes were frozen on the knife protruding from my stomach.

Blood began to seep through my shirt. The warmth trickled down my skin, cooling to an icy chill as it hit the trim of my pants.

The tips of my fingers softly touched the edge of the handle.

I didn't know if I should pull it out or leave it in place.

“You stabbed me,” I said, ruminating.

“What the hell did you think was going to happen, Poppy? You show up here and threaten my livelihood, and I'm just supposed to allow it? That's insane.”

“You actually stabbed me,” I said softly.

My father scoffed as he tapped the end of the gun against his palm. “I didn't stab you. You stabbed yourself. You stopped taking your medication, and your illness just grew out of control. You went AWOL, your delusions began to rage, and you ended up stabbing yourself.”

“They won't believe you.”

“Oh no? You don't think they'll believe a doctor?

You don't think they'll believe someone who donates thousands of dollars a year to the homeless and food banks?

You think they're going to believe you instead?

They're going to believe someone who has schizophrenia? Someone who has a family history of mental illness?” He angled his head and softened his brows. “Come on, Poppy. Don't be so naive.”

I didn't say a word. My eyes kept drifting to the gun as my father stalked around his office, talking, berating, and sadistically laughing at my expense.

I was angry. I was so fucking angry. He had ripped my entire life out from beneath me.

This man had come in, manipulated my very existence, and then set it on fire.

“Everything I've done for you. Everything I did for your mother. Neither of you ever appreciated what I could give you. I was trying to hand the world to you on a silver platter, and instead, you were going to walk away from it.”

My lip curled high as I snarled, “You think I care about your fucking company?

You experimented on us! You killed my mother!

I don't give a fuck.” I had enough of his bullshit.

I wasn't going to let my father shame me into feeling bad or guilty.

“I was a child. And you took the only thing that mattered to me.

I needed my mother, and you decided I didn't. That's not fair.”

“Life isn't fair, Pumpkin.” My father casually swung the gun around in the air.

“Sometimes people have to do things that might seem unreasonable. But I did it for you.” He smirked and winked.

“She wasn't good for you. Look at what I had to give you.” My father tilted his head and squinted.

“And you fucked that all up. All you had to do was take your medicine and do what I asked of you. Now you get nothing.”

My father came closer and pointed the gun in my direction. “Your mother tried to ruin me. I took care of that really quickly. I won't let you ruin me, too.”

“Fuck you,” I barked. “You're weak. You're a weak fucking man.”

“Am I?” He pressed the gun to the center of my forehead. “You want to rethink what you're saying?”

“You're a pussy. You couldn't handle my mother, so you killed her.”

He pressed the barrel of the gun deeper. “I think shutting you up is the best option.” I heard the hammer click as he pulled it back.

“Then fucking do it,” I said.

I lifted my chin high and closed my eyes.

If he was going to kill me, then I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

I wasn't going to beg him for my life.