He didn’t thank me for reliving the single worst night of my life. He didn’t offer condolences for the death of my spirit, for the obliteration of my heart or the destruction of my soul. He didn’t even give so much as asorry about your luckwhen he read about how I was raped while that asshole slit my throat. No, Franc De la Grange took the opportunity to rip me a new asshole,kick ‘em when they’re already downso to speak.
“This is it?” He asked after finishing the page and a half horror story I wrote.
“I-I told you, I c-can’t remember every detail. I t-tried, I really did.” I wished so bad I could just disappear.
“If you remember anything else, you call me right away. This may not be enough to save them.” He tossed his card on the bed at my feet. “You should be grateful we have Lucius’ statement and testimony.” Franc watched me look away as I tried to hide my tears, disgust painted on what would have been a handsome face. “Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. I promisedLucius I was going to keep it professional but now that my job with you is done, I’ve got a few things to say.”
The tears started to run freely down my face as I looked at him with wide eyes. Terror gripped my chest, the monitors I was hooked up to clearly reflecting that. Detective De la Grange narrowed his dark brown eyes, his tone became even and quiet as he continued in Italian.
“I know you can understand me but I still want to make myself very clear. If you ever come near my brother or those boys again, I will make it my personal mission to make you regret it. Ever since you came into Lucius’ life he hasn’t been the same person. You made him believe that this pipe dream, this music bullshit was something more than a hobby. He has been less involved with the family, he threw away his potential career just so he could become a starving musician. Lucius has wasted all of his time and energy on something that is going nowhere. He’s wasted all of his time on some orphaned, tainted, unwanted and discarded bitch with no past and no future.
And now, because of you, he has lost all hope of having his own family some day. He is forever scarred, mutilated and broken because of what happened. He’ll never be able to hold down a real job. He’ll never find love or make our parents truly proud of him. Because of you Markus, Peter and Norman are killers. They will never be able to escape the stigma that comes with that. You have been nothing but trouble since day one and now the curse of Leonor Allan will be carried by those four until the day they die. I hope you live in agony, the most unrelenting and brutal pain knowing that you have destroyed them. Do not, I repeat, do not ever let me find out you tried to contact any of them because if I do, you will be sorry.”
Then he left me alone with his words as the nurses came in to check on me, my monitors going ballistic after his little speech.
I’ve never told a single person about our conversation that day, and it’s part of why I stayed away for so long.
I believed his words.
I convinced myself that I was a curse, that I ruined everything I touched, and I knew that if I didn’t listen to him he would make me pay. So instead, I made myself suffer, the only reassurance I had was knowing my boys would be better for it.
That was the last time I saw Franc De la Grange, until right now.
“I need to talk to my brother,” he sneers, his words dripping with hate as he spits them at me.
“He’s... h-he’s...” I squeeze the beer bottles in my hand tight, trying to hide how much I’m shaking but my throat starts to close and I can’t get any more words out.
“You guys really know how to kill the mood.” Lucky chuckles as he heads down the stairs.
Franc pushes past me and forces his way into my loft as he follows Lucky’s voice, my body moving with the momentum before my back hits the wall.
“I mean, if you took a cabhereyou could have easily…” He stops short as his eyes land on his brother standing in my living room. “What the fuck is this?”
Franc practically starts fuming as he sees Lucky standing there in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, his wet hair sticking in all directions, his bare feet padding toward him. He shoots me a look that has me shrinking in the corner as I hide behind the door, wrapping my arms around myself for some kind of support, and the fury in his eyes only grows when Pete appears on the staircase.
“What are you doing here, Franc?” Lucky asks as he straightens into a more rigid posture, puffing his chest out while he scowls and crosses his arms against it.
“I ran into the boys downtown.” Franc shoots me another glare. “They were celebrating pretty hard and we got to talking. I told them I hadn’t been able to get a hold of you and they clued me in as to why.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“We have some business to discuss, Lucius.”
Pete checks his imaginary watch as he comes to stand next to Lucky. “At almost two in the morning? Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“No. And when I found out where you were I didn’t think I should waste any more time.” Franc is so pissed off, so angry that his energy is suffocating. It’s consuming and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
Lucky looks my way, his body tensing as he sees me basically cowering in the corner and frozen with fear but his eyes soften after a beat. “Why don’t you take those beers upstairs, cakes. We’ll be back up in a few minutes.”
My eyes dart toward Pete, who nods in agreement, then do as he suggests, Franc’s threat from years ago running through my head.
I try to slink by all of them but Lucky catches my elbow and I jump sky high, the beer bottles in my hands clanking loudly as I almost drop one. He runs his thumb back and forth over my skin and gives me a warm smile, no doubt trying to comfort me in whatever it is I’m feeling but I just nod and pull my arm away.
The grief of my impending loss is already trying to weasel its way into my chest, twisting and turning into a tight knot sitting in the pit of my stomach.
After slamming my beer, I start pacing in front of my bathroom, listening to the low rumble of their voices, the occasional crescendo as they argue in Italian, the even louder pitch when Pete tells them to knock it off so he can follow what they’re talking about.
This far away from them I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I definitely heard Franc call me adeceitful whoreat least twice, so it’s going about as well as I’d expect.
