Miles had never thought his father could do something like that.
His father was very careful about his image. He made sure that no one else knew about the drinking, the abuse. He gripped the steering tighter as he looked out the windshield. He made sure that everything he did to relieve himself from his aches, stayed within the house. To the outside world, he was humble, clean, ever cheerful and helpful. But to Miles, his father was nothing but a pretentious man, hurting greatly from his loss and looking for any way to take it away even if it meant going against his very morals.
Miles could recall the woman's dampened features as she retold him the story of how they had been owing his father and had no means to pay. She said she didn't know the details but all she knew was that by the time she got to the house, there was blood everywhere and he had used a hammer to clubber the child to death. The pressure in his chest built up and escalated, gaining ascension with every inhale and exhale.
The desire to retch grabbed him and he suddenly felt the bile burning his throat. The slimy paste of invisible blood began to smother his skin, arousing dots to form in his vision. Trembles passed down his arms and he could almost visualize the scene, here the screams of a child that was being beaten followed by the sickening echoes of a bloody hammer. Each crunch that careened through his head sent another twist in his stomach and his grip on the steering became shaky no matter how much he tried to still it.
His chest tightened again. He'd survived the abuse and he never told anyone about it, sometimes thoughts of locking his father up would come up, locking him up for good and making sure that he wouldn't do this to somebody else. But he had always shunned the thoughts, at the time not wanting to revisit past ties and of course, not wanting to have all of such media attention for all the wrong reasons. Now with his throat so tight and eyes so red, he wished that he had locked him up. He wished he hadn't given his father the benefit of a doubt that he couldn't hurt anyone else. He rested his head against the wheel and exhaled but that didn't do anything to kill the tightness in his chest and the hollow pulse that drove up his stomach, ready to release whatever little breakfast he had this morning.
For moments, he was lost in his own world, his eyes unable to keep out those hollow crunches and the cries. Even with his shaky control, he could still block out memories but the crunches and pasty feeling of blood continued to pester him, congealing his chest and making it difficult to breathe. After what felt like hours, he finally raised his head and realized that he had been crying. Conscious of his sister's presence, he quickly rubbed his tears away with the sleeve of his flannel shirt and stole a glance at her.
She looked crushed.
Her eyes were hollow and her lips were trembling. She merely stared at the floor, unseeing as if they could help ground her in reality. Ground her in the reality that their father was still the same way before the divorce. He knew that he had always hated the fact that she still obviously loved him, that she still held this strong regard for him. The love that bound them together while they were growing up. Somewhere in the corner, he thought he would feel satisfied once she knew the truth, maybe not about his abuse, but that his father was worse than their mother.
Instead of that, he felt pity for her, pity that her whole view of him had been crushed. He looked away from her, not sure why he should feel that pity after all, he had experienced it first hand. He had been the one to live under his father's wrath while his sister had been frolicking around the continent, enjoying all the riches and fame that the world had to offer. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his heart ached for the family that had just been depraved of their son, their bundle of joy and laughter. All taken because of a monster.
Miles lay back against the seat and stared up at the roof of the car. With another huge inhale, sucking in the air that his lungs held with frail hands, he sat up and turned the key in the ignition. The car jolted to life, harrumphing as it grumbled to get moving. He slowly reversed out of the square before taking a turn and driving away. The picture of the dead and decaying body of the boy and the hammer that had been used made his stomach tighten again.
The only thought that consistently stole his attention was,
Why?
Barely a minute after they had started their drive back, they encountered heavy traffic. Cars, trucks and trailers alike blared at each other. Their honks bounced through the air as they were packed like sardines in a can, barely any breathing space between vehicles.
Miles could only sit there, his mind aimlessly wandering through the tale that the woman has told. The tragedy that struck all because of his father. All because he had not locked his father when he had the chance, letting him live his life scot free all because he was too much of a coward to actually lock him up. His dark thoughts took a loathing tone, past self-resentments that he had managed to stifle rising once again to bare teeth at him.
He drove like that, stuck in a gloomy stupor that refused to leave his shoulders, almost making him sink into the quick sand of his mind that would lead to memories that only visited him at night. Before sleep would then elude him.
Time drained quickly as the roads were jam-packed, the chaotic sounds of cars blaring, tires screeching, people shouting and hurling over each other. Before he knew it, darkness was upon them and the moon took to the sky once again.
Miles, now numb, drove his car into the driveway of his humble home. It was a simple duplex which was yellow in color, also a bit isolated from the houses around with its large fences and immaculately trimmed, with clean glass windows staring at passersby from the outside. As he pulled the gear to park, the hum of the engine fell flat and he finally remembered that his sister was here.
He turned and noticed she was sleeping soundlessly. No wonder he didn't even remember she was here. A surge of bitterness grabbed him as he could see the peace that encircled her youthful face as she slept which made her look calmer, quieter.
When was the last time he had actually slept peacefully?
He groaned softly, another headache coming to pester with his temples. His left eye began to burn, irritated by the lack of fluids and motion. Like always he fished out his eye drops from his pocket and applied it before dropping it back in place.
He allowed his gaze stray back to his sister. She now almost cuddled her knees to her chest, both hands held firmly in a ball. Miles sighed as he was about to move out of the car to stretch his legs and figure out what to do with her, her formerly balled hand fell open and a chain slid down, nestling right beside her. Carefully, Miles picked it up and inspected it, noticing the semicircle that was now somewhat dented at the base of the gold chain. He knew that was the necklace his father had given her.
Miles licked his lips before he checked his watch. 9:00pm. Only few taxis would be available now and they wouldn't even usually be around this side of the city. And as much as he still disliked her presence, he wouldn't want her to come to harm given that Rivera City wasn't the safest place at night, especially now. And he was sure that he had no purpose of driving anywhere else tonight as he felt the weakness that lingered around him.
Just send her away, mother would have the head of anyone who tries to touch her doll.
Despite the bitterness that aroused at the thought, he still couldn't bring himself to make such a decision. He rubbed his temples, already annoyed at the direction his thoughts were heading.
He couldn't possibly leave her inside the car so the only other option he had was for her to sleep over here. He pressed the right side of his lips into a thin line. He exhaled before tapping her, harder than he had meant.
Bella jolted up, blue eyes groggy and her hair tasseled. She looked at him, blinked before looking back ahead, the sleep still contorting her features.
"Where am I ?"
"My house. You ca-n stay ove-r for the nig-ht since the-re won't be taxis to take you back to your hote-l. You don't have t-o if yo-u don't wan-t to." He offered halfheartedly.
She merely gave him a faraway look, as if she were still not rooted in the planet. He looked away from her again and rubbed his temples.
After what felt like ages she finally spoke in a shaky quiet voice,
"Do you think the woman was lying?"
He didn't need anyone to tell him that it was the woman from earlier today she was talking about. When he finally met her stare, hope had resurrected in her eyes, wavering like a flickering flame. Eagerly hoping that the news that has swept her off her feet hadn't been true. For a moment she looked like a child that still held onto the hope that the tooth fairy would give her money in exchange for her milk teeth.
Unfortunately for her, neither were true.
His stomach twisted. He took a deep breath.
"I-"
"She must be lying, right? Our father would never do such a thing." The desperation in her eyes as she said this almost made him wish it were true. She grabbed his arms, her fingers digging into his skin.
"Tell me she was lying." Her voice shook, nails digging into his skin as tears filled her eyes.
Once again that weight that had hung over his chest dropped down but now for a different reason. For his sister that was not willing to accept the truth and the reality that she was forced into.
"Talk to me, Miles! You're a detective, aren't you? I know you know when someone is lying! You catch criminals and what not, so tell me that she's lying! Please."
Miles was silent and she released him and leaned against the side of her door, her hair forming a wall in front of her face. Miles, with his heart as heavy as his sister's, said as he lifted himself from the seat,
"You shou-ld stay here. Yo-u can't go back to your hot-el in this stat-e."