Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             I nod. He earned my trust long ago. In fact, I trust him more than I trust myself.

                             He’s real. Sometimes, I think I’m not.

                             “I wasn’t able to save neither Ariel nor Arthur, but I won’t repeat the same mistake with you.” Uncle’s knitted brows ease as he studies me with the fatherly look that makes me want to kill Tristan, Thia, Trevor, and their mother so I can have Uncle for myself. “Don’t follow in your father’s footsteps. Follow mine.”

                             A mixture of warmth and coldness washes over me as Uncle pats my shoulder. He smells like Autumn, windy breeze, and falling leaves. A hard found in-between. Not too black. Not too white. The perfect grey.

                             I smile. Uncle is right. All I have to do is to stop being myself. Maybe that way, I’ll become like Uncle.

                             And maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop being special like Father and Aunt.



                             Present,

                             Another bloody memory that should have been erased. It’s still a lot better than the madness of Aunt and Grandmother.

                             I suck in a deep breath and sit up on my sofa. It’s all because of Autumn’s scent coming from my bathroom. Mae is another grey. A confusing smell. An in-between that I should stay away from. Yet, my feet carry me to her. There’s no fighting this itching urge to be near her. It’s almost as persistent as the demons’ voices. Almost.

                             When I open the door, Mae doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s staring in the mirror. Her gaze void, like an aimless ship without an anchor. Her less-bruised hand tightens around scissors. An unnatural shade of white covers her knuckles. Her other hand clutches a handful of silky blond strands.

                             “Grandma used to comb my hair.” Mae’s voice is low, strangled with emotions. Does she even realise that she’s talking to me? “She used to tell me tales when doing it. The longer my hair was, the more story time we spent together. I never cut my hair or dyed it ever since. It represents my love for Grandma.”

                             “Why would you cut it then?” I look at her through the mirror.

                             Her lips tremble and the blueness of her eyes dampen with unshed tears. “He pulled me by it... he... he put his filthy hands on it.” Her voice breaks, but she shouts the last words. “He sullied it! I need to get rid of his dirtiness!”

                             My teeth grit. Hampton needed a slower, more painful death.

                             I put my hand over her trembling one. “Let me do it.” It takes her a while to release the scissors. “Memories are what you choose to remember. You can always omit the unpleasant ones and remember your grandmother’s touch.”

                             She says nothing. Doesn’t even spare me a glance. Her gaze seems to find an inexistent point in the space much more interesting.

                             I grab a blonde strand. It slips between my fingers as if escaping its fate. I hold it to my nose and inhale the rich citrus. My goodbye.

                             I open the scissors when Mae shifts away. “Stop!” She brushes past me, scurrying out of the bathroom.

                             My lungs extend, untying the uncomfortable knot in my stomach.

                             I stand there for a minute, staring at my reflection.