CHAPTER 87: 87 - A MONSTER

87

~Belinda’s POV

I looked at Lisa. Her face was pale, her hands shaking slightly from what I had just told her. But I wasn’t done.

"You think that story was bad?" I said quietly, bitterness rising in my throat. "That wasn’t even the worst one."

She looked up, eyes rimmed with red. "There’s... there’s worse?"

I nodded. "Yeah. There’s worse. You want to know why Kael hates the sound of chains? Why he flinches when someone touches the back of his neck, even if it’s soft?"

Lisa blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard. "I... I didn’t even know that."

"You wouldn’t," I whispered. "Because he hides it. He hides everything. But I saw it. I heard it. I’ll never forget it."

I took a deep breath. My voice felt tight, like my throat was trying to close up just from remembering it.

"It was during winter," I began, my eyes lowering as the images flashed again in my head. "The power had gone out in the west wing of the house. Everything was cold. I mean freezing. You could see your own breath in the hallway. I remember that day so clearly, Lisa... I had to wear two pairs of socks just to feel my toes. Damon kept trying to light the fireplace with these matches that wouldn’t strike, and his hands were shaking so much."

Lisa sat quietly across from me, her eyes already glossy. She was listening, really listening.

"We were all exhausted. Hungry too, because the kitchen was freezing, and the staff had stopped cooking. Everyone was bundled in blankets and sitting close together to keep warm. But Garrick, he didn’t care. He stormed in like a demon. Furious. Loud. Slamming things. Cursing."

I paused, remembering the sound of his boots on the tiles. Heavy. Angry.

"He blamed Kael," I continued, quietly. "Said it was Kael’s fault the backup generators hadn’t come on. Can you imagine that? Blaming an eleven-year-old for a power outage in a mansion?"

Lisa shook her head slowly, confused and pained. "But why Kael? What did he even do?"

"Nothing. That’s the truth," I said, almost bitterly. "He didn’t even know where the generators were located. That job belonged to the staff. But Garrick didn’t need a reason. He just needed someone to punish. Someone to hurt. And Kael was always the quiet one. Always the one trying hardest to prove himself."

I looked up at the ceiling for a second. The lump in my throat was getting worse.

"He grabbed Kael by the hair. Not his shirt, not his arm. His hair. And yanked him out of his room. I heard the thud from my own room down the hall and ran to see what was going on. By the time I got to the stairs, Garrick was already dragging him down, Kael’s whole body limp. His elbows were banging on every step."

Lisa gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

"I can still hear the sound. That dull thump. Thump. Thump. Kael didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He just whimpered. Damon tried to stop him, he threw himself in front of Garrick and said it was his fault instead, but Garrick just kicked him aside like trash."

I shook my head slowly. My voice was trembling now.

"He dragged Kael down to the cellar. It was already cold as death down there. The kind of cold that eats your bones. He ordered the guards to bring the chains. Real chains, Lisa. Rusty, heavy, the kind used to restrain rogues."

Lisa’s lips were trembling now.

"They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t hesitate. They just... did it. One of them was even crying while he helped tie Kael to the wall. But no one disobeyed Garrick. They wrapped the chain around Kael’s wrists, and ankles."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as the memory came rushing back with full force.

"Three days, Lisa," I repeated, voice barely holding steady. "Three days in the dark. Chained like an animal. No food. No water. No warmth."

Lisa looked frozen, pale. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"Do you know what Kael looked like when we finally got to him?" I asked, my voice cracking. "His skin was bluish from the cold. His lips were cracked and bleeding. His wrists were raw. The metal cuffs had cut into his skin so deep, there were actual wounds. Open wounds."

"Oh my God..." she whispered, covering her face.

"He couldn’t even sit up," I continued, my tears falling now. "He just slumped there, his head hanging low, whispering ’I’m sorry’ over and over again like he was trying to convince himself he deserved it. His voice was hoarse from crying out."

I shook my head and blinked, trying to clear the water blurring my eyes.

"Rowan and Damon carried him out. Damon had a broken wrist, remember? But he still helped. He held his brother’s legs while Rowan lifted his upper body. And the whole time Kael kept whispering that he wouldn’t fail again. That he’d learn faster. Be stronger. Be better."

Lisa finally spoke, her voice shaking. "How... how could Garrick do that to his own son?"

"Because he didn’t see them as sons," I replied bitterly. "He saw them as projects. As heirs to mold. Tools to sharpen. Weapons to forge. Not children. Never children."

Tears were slipping down Lisa’s face now.

"On the third night," I whispered, "I snuck into the cellar. I had a little flashlight, and some bread hidden in my coat. And when I saw Kael..." My voice cracked. "He wasn’t even crying anymore. Just staring at the wall. His lips were blue. His wrists were bleeding from the chains. He didn’t even blink when I touched him."

Lisa sobbed into her hand.

"I fed him the bread. Piece by piece. And I sat there, holding his hand until sunrise. Just praying... praying he wouldn’t die."

Silence stretched between us for a long moment.

"I wish I could say that was the last time Garrick did something like that," I muttered. "But it wasn’t. That was just... one of many. And you think we shouldn’t have killed him?"

Lisa looked at me, trembling.

"I didn’t know," she whispered. "Belinda, I... I didn’t know."

I leaned in closer.

"No," I said. "You didn’t. So stop judging what you don’t understand. Because we didn’t kill a father, Lisa. We killed a monster."