Remembrance, Ives #3

You shouldn’t judge me. I know you wanted me as far from your father as possible, but I thought I could help. I was delusional, optimistic, and ignorant, but all I wanted was to help you. Believe that.

When I found the courage to knock, it had been two full weeks since you left. I curse myself for waiting so long. Maybe if I’d been smarter, stronger, better, I would have been there to stop you from your own recklessness.

A young man opened the door. Neither your father nor you. When he saw me, his face registered shock before he straightened and blocked the doorway. I should have listened to the message he sent in that small adjustment.

“Can I help you?” he asked with heavy suspicion.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to look past him. He held the door close so I couldn’t see in. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Cyril Amos?”

Suspicion turned to dread on his face. “No, I don’t know any–“

“Who is that?” A dark voice called behind him.

“No one,” he called, but the voice materialized in the doorway as an older man who was undoubtedly your father. His build was stronger, firmer, but his face was yours.

“Kieran,” your father admonished. “You know we welcome guests.” Kieran nodded and stepped back from the doorway, but your father entered it and stepped outside to greet me. “My dear,” he said, and I heard the warning and danger in his welcome. Even after spending so long in that house with the man, I don’t know if he intended it to be there or if that’s just how he talked. “What did you say you needed? I’m sure we can help you.”

He ushered me inside, and that was the last time I saw daylight for weeks. I almost answered him, but then we stumbled upon you in the kitchen, your arm broken, strung up and healing wrong.

“What happened?” I asked without thinking, and I left your father behind without a thought. Your arm was broken. I know how much that hurts, and I know how slow it heals.

Your father held me back. He grabbed my upper arm and yanked me backward.

“I’m going to ask that you stay away from my son,” he whispered into my ear, then he took a step back and looked between us. “Do you two know each other?”

I couldn’t answer. My arm would be bruised from his grip. I’d never been handled like that before. I just stared at you without a word. Yes, we’d known each other for years.

The truth must not have been that easy for you, because you shook your head and said, “No.” You cocked your head and squinted at me. “Well… she does look familiar. Did we go to school together?”

I shook my head at you, unsure about how to respond. Should I go along with your lie? I had a strong urge to set the record straight, but I still couldn’t talk. It turned out not to matter. In the end.

“Interesting,” your father said to both of us, then turned to me. “Why did you say you were here?”

With a forced turn of the head, I looked your father in the eyes. They were steel traps. I remember thinking that right off, I don’t know why. The traps closed around me and my will bent in a way I couldn’t fathom. Was this why you ran away? No one likes to be trapped, and Vasilis Mihal was many traps in one body and one mind, united in purpose but always shifting beneath you and within themselves. Everything he did had a reason, and I knew that, but in the presence of the man, I’d forgotten everything I learned in his letters to you.

“I was looking for one of my friends who went missing recently,” I said. “But the other guy–“

“Kieran,” your father offered, interrupting.

I nodded and continued, “Yes, Kieran. He told me no one was here by that name, so I’ll be going.” Straight to the police. It’s a simple case of domestic violence, right? I had the bruises already.

“Unfortunately,” he stepped closer, even though he was already too close. “What did you say your name was, dear?”

I didn’t answer, and your father looked to you for an answer. When you shook your head, he looked to Kieran, somewhere behind me.

“She didn’t say, sir.”

Sir. Did Kieran say that to everyone, or was it something he reserved for your father? I wondered about Kieran’s relationship to your family. Was he a cousin? Maybe some kind of assistant to your father?

“It’s rude not to offer your name to someone who has brought you in as a guest, dear. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” Your father finally stepped away from me, and I felt like I could breathe again, if only for a moment. It gave me enough courage to talk back.

“Your parents failed in that regard, too, sir.” He had told me Kieran’s name but had neglected to offer his own. With enough space to think without your father’s breath on my neck, I saw him for the hardened coward that he was. He had a strong will and had learned tricks to keep his power, but he was a cowardly man still. Disgust coursed through me in a shudder. In the next breath, I realized how dangerous that made him. I took another step away from him while he pondered my retort. How long had it been since someone responded to him like that?

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he said after a long silence. “For forgetting my manners.” He made a sweeping bow in mockery of me, and when he stood straight again, there was such malice in his face that I took another step away from him and bumped into Kieran, who steadied me gently, out of sight of your father.

“I am Vasilis Mihal,” he smiled. “Father of Kieran McMann and Cyril Amos.”

I must have looked confused because he clarified. “Don’t let the last names fool you, child.” He closed the distance between us and hissed at me, “These are my sons.”

Controlling. Possessive. Things you should stay far away from, but I didn’t back away. I wanted to, but I listened to my instincts for once and stood my ground. No one had stood up to this man in over a decade. It was time to end that streak.

His smile didn’t falter, and he leaned even closer. In a whisper, I heard him say, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I fought the urge to take a step away. Show no fear, no hesitation. I forced a smile and replied, “I’m certain that I don’t, but that won’t stop me.”

Vasilis cocked his head a fraction of an inch to the side, and his smile froze. I could see the uncertainty and intrigue fight below his frozen features.

Behind me, I felt movement. You must have crossed the room to stand beside Kieran, because in the next moment someone dragged me away and I was between the two of you.

Your father surveyed the three of us, standing together against him for the first time, and nodded.

“I see,” he said under his breath. “This is how it will be?” He spread his arms wide and grinned. “So be it.”

He lowered his arms and walked out of the room. “Kieran,” he said over his shoulder. “Be sure she doesn’t wander outside.”

You and I both looked to Kieran, whose face was white. Even in his stand against his father, he was expected to obey. None of us knew what the consequence of disobedience would be, but Kieran wasn’t interested in finding out. He took me by the arm and led me up the stairs to a windowless room.

You didn’t intervene, and I still don’t know why. Not that it would have mattered, I suppose. Neither of us were going anywhere until whatever was going on between you and your father was finished.

And we both knew your business with him was far from over.

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I hope you enjoyed this installment of the Remembrance Collection, and I’d love to hear your comments. If you haven’t already, subscribe below to discover what else Raven, Cyril, and Kieran get up to.