American Savages

  He was going to take his father back home to Chicago where he belonged. We would have our revenge, but he needed this, and truthfully, so did I. We all did.

  Someone still had to tell Declan and Coraline…and I knew that that someone would’ve been me.

  Holding onto my husband, a burning need traveled through me. Something akin to adrenaline, but darker, much more vengeful, pumped through my veins and I made a silent promise: Never again!

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don't.”

  —Stephen King

  CORALINE

  Wiping my face over and over again didn’t help. Nothing seemed to dull the pain, or stop the tears. I sat on the edge of our bed waiting for my husband. He was going to be here at any moment, and I needed to be strong for him, but the damned tears wouldn’t stop falling. When the door jiggled, I sat up quickly with my hands at my sides.

  “Did you see the news? Mel and Liam are insane. I’m famous babe…well, my gun and my altered voice was. Who knew it would be so easy to—” he paused as he took off his shoes and looked me over. “What’s wrong?”

  I said nothing, choosing instead to move towards him I before gripped the sides of his face and kissed him deeply. He pulled me to him, and wrapped his arms around my body before he pulled back and smiled.

  “What did I do to deserve that? Let me know so I can do it again!”

  I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t do this to him. He had lost the man who took him in and treated him like his own son all his life—he had lost his real father. The tears returned as I bit my tongue. Mel had said on the phone to just spit it out, that it was going to hurt no matter how I delivered the news, but I didn’t want to see him in pain.

  “Coraline, talk to me please,” he whispered, as he placed his hand on my face. “Did I do something? I know I’ve been overprotective, but I can’t help it, I just worry about you—”

  I placed my finger on his lips and took a deep breath. “Mel and Liam are coming back tomorrow morning.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Baby, I’m so sorry. Sedric’s gone,” I allowed the words to rush out.

  His eyes widened as he took a step away from me.

  Everything I’d been told spilled from my mouth. “Avian tried to have Evelyn and Ethan killed, but Sedric pushed them out of the way and…and took a bullet…he never got back up. Mel—”

  “Stop!” Declan screamed at me.

  I tried to reach for him but he pushed me away while shaking his head. “What are you saying? What? I don’t…I don’t understand. I spoke to him and Evelyn a few hours ago. Why are you saying this?”

  “Declan.”

  “No, this is crazy. You're wrong.” He snapped at me as I moved to him once more, this time I pulled him into my arms. He stood stiffly. “You’re wrong.”

  His body began to shake as he held onto me. “You’re wrong. I can’t lose two fathers, Cora.”

  But he had and I wished I were wrong. I really did, because all I could see were dark days before us.

  How did this happen?

  NEAL

  I needed to see her. It had been only a couple of hours without him and it still felt as if I’d just been told. It burned to think about reality. My throat felt as if it were closing, like my heart crawled through it, just wanting to be expelled. My eyes ached, and I wanted to rip them out if only to alleviate the constant stinging. Mel had taken Mom and Ethan home, leaving me with Liam and Kain. None of us spoke. We simply sat in our private waiting room in silence before I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see her.

  We refused to leave without our father. We refused to let him stay there without us in a cold box as if he were no one. It wasn’t right. I had planned to stay at the hospital all night when Olivia called for the ninth time. I’m not even sure why they bothered to leave her a phone, but I was sure it had to do with Avian—the fucking bastard. I was going to pull his lungs out of his ass.

  The longer I thought about him, the more I thought of her. I had to see her, I had to know if she knew about this…if this had been a part of her plan all along.

  Liam didn’t even seem to notice as I took my leave, he just sat there with Kain, who stood at his side like a fucking rock. It didn’t even seem as if he were breathing. I didn't want to leave him, but I needed to know.

  “Evelyn, stop, please!” I heard her strangled scream as I walked towards the basement. There, on the bed, was Olivia trying fight off my mother who was on top of her. She continuously punched her, and her fists were covered in blood as they slammed into Olivia’s face.

  “You bitch! I welcomed you into my home, my family, and this is what you do? This is all your fault! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you! How dare you! You filthy cunt! Die! Just DIE!” She pulled her arm back and punched her one last time, until finally, I lifted her off of Olivia. Still enraged, she struggled out of my grip and smacked me hard across the face. With tears in her eyes, she glared at me.

  “This is your fault!” she screamed at me, before pointing to Olivia, who now had a busted lip, a broken nose, and cut forehead. “You brought this trash, this snake, this evil whore, into our lives, our family. She wanted all of us dead and now she’s getting her wish. For once in your goddamn life, Neal Callahan, stop being a disappointment! I’ve always been on your side, I’ve always wanted what was best for you, and this is how you repay me? By destroying me? I can’t even look at you. How could you do this to me?!” She spat at my feet.

  “Evelyn, come on,” Mel whispered, but she refused to move. With a sigh, Mel pulled out a needle and stuck it in her neck. I went to help, but Mel shook her head before she wrapped my mother’s arm over her shoulder and moved towards the door.

  “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with her? What’s going on? I haven’t seen anyone in days. Not that I want to see anyone in this stupid fucking family. No one has anyone given me anything to eat—”

  Something inside of me snapped. My hands were around her neck before my mind even made a conscious decision to move. I gripped her neck as tightly as I could.

  “My father is dead and you’re upset because someone didn’t give you snack?” I asked her, feeling surprisingly calm as she struggled against me. Her nails scratched my arms as tears flooded her bloodshot eyes. Instead of the absolute dread I envisioned feeling when this day came, an unnatural calm took over my entire being. I felt nothing but an urge to rid the earth of this disgusting virus I’d blindly inflicted upon my family.

  “Neal…this…not…like…you…” she choked out.

  “You don’t know me,” I said, surprising myself once again with how unaffected I felt. Pushing as hard as I could onto her neck, I felt something snap, not within me as I was used to when dealing her, but I literally felt and heard the harsh and sickening snap as her windpipe finally collapsed under the pressure of my grip and she stopped fighting. Her body went limp and I stared into her cold, empty eyes. There was hardly a difference now than there was last week.

  That was it.

  She was gone.

  Just like that, nothing fancy, not by Liam’s or Mel’s hands, but by my own. And I didn’t regret it. I felt absolutely no remorse as I looked at her already cooling carcass.

  “I’ll handle this, Neal, now go to your mother,” Mel said from behind me. “She’ll awaken at any moment, and right now she needs one of her sons.”

  I gave Olivia one more look before getting up.

  Mel grabbed my arm before I could leave the room. “We will have our revenge, I swear it, Neal.”

  I’m wasn’t sure how to reply as my heart tried to escape by way of my throat once more. Heading to my parents’ room, I walked up the stairs and it was as if someone was physically trying to pull me back. Perhaps it was Olivia’s demented soul. Or maybe I was just damned.

  Walking into the room, I stared at my mother as she gripped onto
what I guessed was my father’s pillow. It seemed as though she was trying soak up whatever essence he’d left behind. Taking a seat at the side of the bed, I didn’t even try to stop the flow tears.

  What happens now?

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”

  —J.R.R. Tolkien

  LIAM

  PAST

  He punched me so hard that I spun around once before hitting the ground. Dazed, I lay there for a moment before I manage to get up and pull off my boxing helmet.

  “You cheated!”

  “Nope, you just suck,” my father said with a laugh, as he threw me a water bottle.

  I pulled off my gloves as fast as I could, desperate for something to quench my thirst. “My teacher said not use the word, ‘suck,’ because she knows I’m more educated than that.”

  “She said you’re more educated, not me, kid.” He rolled his eyes before pouring his own bottled water over his head. Standing up, I followed his lead and poured the ice cold liquid onto my body. I shivered as the water dripped from my face and onto the boxing ring canvas.

  “Well, you're more educated than I am,” I replied, as I shook the water from my hair. “At least you should be, right? You’re old.”

  He frowned at me before he threw a glove at my head. Ducking out of the way, I grinned.

  “Rule twenty: Your father is never old and it would be wise not to claim that he is. Also, remember, Rule twenty-three; just because one is old does not make them wise.”

  “You can’t make up rules as you go!” I yelled at him. “You said they were given to you by your father and his father before him. You said it was a tradition.”

  “Liam, you're thirteen, don’t hold me to everything I say, it’s annoying. You’re supposed to forget that stuff,” he replied as he helped me out of the ring.

  “Why would I forget it? You get annoyed when you have to repeat things.” I frowned.

  He sighed as he ruffled my hair. “You’re too goddamn serious, Liam. Life is short; rebel a little. You’re healthy, so enjoy life. Read a comic, binge eat, it’s okay every once in a while,” he told me as he pushed the button for the elevator.

  “Grandpa says—”

  “Grandpa is a hard ass, and no one can make him happy. Be who you are. I heard there’s some dance at school coming up? Who are you taking?”

  “No one.” I frowned, as I leaned against the elevator wall.

  “No one?”

  “Yes, because I’m not going. I still hate school. I’m only going for you.”

  “Why, thank you,” he snickered. “And you’re going to the dance.”

  “Why?” I groaned and smacked my forehead. “I hate them.”

  “Because it makes you uncomfortable and you need to get used to doing things that make you uncomfortable.”

  I muttered an oath under my breath and he looked to me, daring me to defy him.

  “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m going to be miserable.”

  “You can thank me later.”

  PRESENT

  “Liam, you need to eat something,” Mel whispered to me after we boarded the jet. I couldn’t really remember the events that had led to me being here. I looked around the cabin, trying to piece together how long I’d been out of it, when I noticed some sort of soup and slices of bread in front of me.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Fine. Then can you feed Ethan while I check on your mother?” she asked as she held both the bottle and Ethan in her arms.

  I didn’t want to deal with this right now.

  “Mel, no I can’t—”

  She placed him into my arms and gave me the bottle despite my protests. Ethan looked up to me, waiting, and all I could do was stare into his green eyes…ones that reflected my own, and I froze.

  “Dada,” he called to me and I took a deep breath before I adjusted him for his meal.

  He sucked happily and I watched him. He looked peaceful, happy. Relaxing into my chair, I held him close to my heart. Taking the bread up with my free hand, I ate along with him. Moment later, Mel came back from the jet’s private room and quietly sat in front of me.

  “How is she?” I asked her, as I took another bite of bread. We hadn’t really spoken, and because I was a coward, I dreaded having to face her.

  “Sleeping.”

  With a nod, I looked out the window at the sea of clouds. Part of me wanted to believe that he was taking this flight with us, relaxing on one of the wings…but to do that, it meant that I would’ve had to accept the fact that he was gone and that was something that I refused to do.

  PAST

  I sat in the back of the car with my dad as we drove through the dark streets of Chicago. I looked to him and he seemed calm as he finished up his crossword puzzle. Every edge of his suit was crisp and sharp. His watch glinted in the mediocre light, and his dark hair was slicked back.

  “Relax,” he said to me.

  With a frown, I leaned back into my seat. “I am relaxed.”

  “You seem nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous. You’re the one butchering the crossword puzzle,” I replied.

  He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Well excuse me, Mr. Know-It-All, why don’t you fix it then?” He handed it to me.

  Taking the pen and the newspaper, I shook my head at some of his answers. “A fourteen letter word for a silent killer is Carbon Monoxide. Hundred and eight stories belong to what eleven-letter word— the answer is Willis Tower. The answer to four down is Buckingham Fountain, not Palaces, that is why you couldn’t fill the space—”

  “Show off,” he grumbled, as he snatched the paper from me just as we came to a stop. “Move it, we’re here.”

  Jumping out, I brushed my hair back, in an effort to keep it out of my eyes. He put his hat on, and handed his briefcase to the driver. His face became serious again as he glared down at me.

  “I promised you for your fourteenth birthday that I would show you what I do. You are not to look away. You will stand there and make me proud, or I will not waste anymore time with you, are we clear?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Then, as his eyes narrowed at me, “I mean, yes, sir.”

  With a nod, he walked forward into a bar with flashing neon green lights above the entrance. The place went silent and everyone moved out of his way as he strode forward. Some even got up out of their seats and moved away from the bar and into the corner as we made our way to the back, while others nodded out of respect. I always knew my father was respected, and I had come to understand that the things he did weren’t always good. But that was the nature of the family business. If I proved myself, he said I would do great things and I wanted that. I wanted people to respect me, to fear me, to stand when I walked into a room.

  We went into basement, and there I saw a man, dripping with sweat and blood, and tied to a chair in the center of the room. The men around him took a step back when they saw my father. He took off his hat and handed it one of the men before doing the same with his jacket. He spent a long time rolling up his sleeves and I knew that he was enjoying this.

  “So you're a cop, O’Neil?” he finally asked. “Usually we’d rough you up before putting a bullet in your brain. I really hate wasting my time on filth. But today is my son’s birthday and before we go hunting tomorrow, I’d like to give him some practice.”

  One of his men handed him a bow and an a few arrows, which my father tested with the tip of his fingers before he walked to the other side of the basement. O’Neil was pulled to the other end where a glass of beer was balanced on his head.

  “Liam, stand in front of him.”

  What?

  My mouth fell open but I didn’t argue, I simply obeyed and took a step in front of him.

  “Turn and face him,” he directed and I did as I was told. The moment I stood still, an arrow went past my ear and into the man’s shoulder. I heard it slice through air before it hit him. I stayed as still as possible as Dad
shot another, and another, and another, and each time he’d hit a different point on the man’s body. The bottle of beer now shattered on the ground

  “The last one is yours, son,” he said to me, and I turned to find him handing me the bow.

  I took it slowly as I looked back up to him.

  “I’m all out of arrows, so you're going to have to pull them out of him, just like you do when we go deer hunting.”

  I didn’t want to go anywhere near the bleeding man, but I refused to let my dad down. Moving towards O’Neil, I grabbed the arrow in his arm and pushed it through completely. The man cried and screamed, but what bothered me more was the fact that he was moving.

  “Move if you want to, but it’s only going to hurt more,” I said to him before I began to remove the others. Then I went to stand in my father’s place at the end of the room.

  “Elbow down,” he said to me as I positioned myself. “Pull back gently and just let it fly.”

  And I did. The first one hit him in the thigh, the next in the arm, and the other in his stomach.

  “Stop,” Dad said, as he took the bow and arrow out of my hands. “I’m growing tired of this, but at least you’ve hit him.”

  With that, he took the last three arrows and shot them into both of O’Neil’s eyes, and the last into his heart before he looked back at me.

  “You still need practice,” he stated, before he turned to speak with his men.

  I watched as they pulled the man out of his chair and lay him on the ground. The blood that flowed from him slowly crept across the floor as it made its way towards me.

  “Liam.”

  “Yes, Father?”

  He washed his hands and undid his sleeves before he put his jacket and hat back on. “We’re heading home.”

  “What happens to the cop now?”

  With his lips pursed he looked me over. “What do you mean ‘what happens to him?’”