Broken

• Chapter 158 •

I feel weak, defeated, unable to breathe properly. Derek is wrong. I'm not a killer, I'm not a psychopath, I'm not sick. Ashton told me about everything, except that his employer was Derek. How do I know who's lying and who's telling the truth? Was it mere coincidence everything that happened with Hassan? Me being assaulted in front of his house? Hassan getting away repeatedly? Or was it all part of this elaborate plan to screw me over?

I clench my jaw as I study my busted knuckles. I almost killed him, and I don't feel a single shred of guilt for it. Maybe Derek's right... Maybe mom was right to be scared when she looked into my eyes and saw him. Maybe I am a psychopath. I jerk backward when the door to this tiny grimy room unlocks. My heart nearly falls out of my asshole when I see dad being wheeled in.

"Dad!" I rush over to him, frantically running my hands along his face. He's badly beaten up, and his mouth is taped.

Anger bubbles up in my chest as I snap my head at Hassan, who jerks back in fear and rushes back out the room. Derek comes in momentarily, "Like what I did with him?"

I clench my jaw as rage rushes through my bones, "You piece of shit."

He laughs at me, "Be a little more creative with your insults, please."

"DEREK!"

Derek clicks his tongue in irritation and rolls his eyes at Hassan's scream, "What?"

"Just get over here," he groans. Derek turns back to me and smiles softly before leaving, "Excuse me."

I grab a hold of dad's hands in mine and tear the duct tape off. He winces in pain before shaking his head. His eyes are panicked and frantic.

"Clementine, are you okay?" he tries to rush to me but realizes he's tied up. I rush over to untie him but find that this object he's attached to is locked and sealed with a key.

"Do you know where the key is?" I whisper.

He shakes his head, "Clementine. Listen to me, I know his plan. I heard them talking. He's only planning one kill, tonight," he breathes. Tears well up in his eyes, "You're gonna be okay. I need you to promise that whatever happens, you'll remember who you are."

I shake my head as my eyebrows slam down abruptly, "I don't understand."

His nostrils flare as his eyes glisten with water, "We were right to protect you... It's you he's after. He's planning to change you. He wants you to join him... He thinks you're like him," he shakes his head, "But you're not. You're not. We're given a soul, and we're born to care. We're born to love. Life is hard, yes. Shit happens that makes you not want to try anymore, give up, even... But we are supposed to fight back, stay noble, be kind, be brave. The only other option is to be complicit in psychopathy with our eyes open; if you do that, no one can save you. Being the angel of your better nature is your only true defense, there's no manual for this stuff, there can't be one. Psychopaths subvert written rules, but the power of love is flexible; that's how we win. That's how we are always going to win."

My throat tightens as the anger rises in my body, "Where are you going with this?"

He presses his lips together, "Minty... If I... If I don't make it, I want you to promise me you'll remain true to yourself."

I shake my head in confused anger.

A small tear escapes his eye, "I know you've always been conscious of your actions, scared you'll turn out to be like him. You're not. He's a sick man, unable to retain emotions. You're not like that... What I feel for you, the love you have for me... For your mom, Eric, Ashton—"