Years ago tragedy struck the Calloway's causing the family to fall apart. Lucariah Augustine St. Francis Calloway was left in the ruins of it all with a mother who couldn't bother and a father who disappeared one night with his older brothers. For...
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Faron took the drive home slow. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and gazing at me every few seconds.
I'd been awfully quiet since he started the car. Not a tear was shed. What was the point anyway, I learned from an early age that crying got you nowhere in life. It didn't matter your age, or your reason. Crying was a way to show your weaknesses.
Ian now knows I need something. He knows that this one person means a lot more to me than anyone could imagine. Ian with his manipulative tendencies now knows that I'll do anything to get her back.
I know now that I won't be the only person looking for Lith. Because if Ian gets her hands on her before I do, he'll make me do a number of things to get her back.
I've put myself in a dangerous game.
"So," he finally broke the silence, "are you hungry?"
My eyes rolled on their own, tired of the pretend care people that are older than me tend to show.
Was I hungry?
Not really, not hungry enough, but if I was...what was the catch?
I couldn't pay for it. Suppose I do say I haven't eaten a solid meal in two days, would he offer to chip in and help. Or would his generosity come at a cost.
"I think we should get a large box of fries and eat in a random parking lot 'til the sun goes down."
"Then what?"
His eyebrows furrowed, and he tossed me a funny look, "then what? I take you back home, that's what. Listen, kid, I'm related to Ian but him and I couldn't be further from the same. I don't like the things he does and I especially don't like the things he has done to you."
When his declaration was met with silence, he sighed to himself, "I'm not a bad guy, Luca."
"That doesn't mean you're good either." I mumbled, picking at the skin around my finger nail.
"I guess that's true...but, you're not good either. I think 'good' is a state of what we can tolerate. No one is objectively good, it's just that the people around them can put up with the things they do." He paused for a moment to make a left turn, "you and I have both spilt blood or others that didn't deserve it. How does that make you any better than me?"
"I'm not saying I'm any better," I clarified, "I'm saying that you're not a good person. I don't know many 'good' people; I just know you're not one of them."
"Because of the things my brother has done? Do you remember me at all, kid? Do you remember going to bed with a cut and waking up all bandaged? How about the time Edgar tossed you out in the snow because he felt he no longer had any use for you, did you think it was Ian that pulled you into a warm place? Luca, that was me."
I kept my eyes on my lap, silence was easier than admitting that he didn't exist in my memory. Any and all things that Faron claimed to have done for me was a blur. So distant it was as though it hadn't even happened to me.
