Chapter 35: Prayers, Paces, and Pleading Calls
Micah’s POV
Chop. Chop. Chop.
The knife hit the wooden cutting board, but my mind was miles away, trapped in the terrifying darkness of Noah’s bedroom. I couldn’t stop picturing that crumpled piece of paper. The names. The heavy, black line drawn straight through the blonde girl’s name. And right at the bottom, our father’s name.
It has to be a mistake, I desperately told myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. Maybe it’s just a list of people he dislikes. It can’t be a death list. Noah wouldn’t. There was no way Noah would be a killer.
But the reality of the girl’s sudden death slammed into me, making my hands shake violently. I forced myself to take a deep breath, blinking away the stinging tears, and focused entirely on the small vegetables before I accidentally sliced my own fingers open.
I should definitely focus on cooking before father would scream my head open and say worse things about me.
After finishing the cooking, I numbly set the plates down on the dining table. We all sat down to eat, the atmosphere instantly turning suffocatingly heavy. The table was almost completely silent, except for father’s voice. He kept asking Noah about the hockey team, his upcoming matches, and his academic progress.
He never asked me about school. He never asked a single thing about me. I deeply doubted he even knew my exact age, not that he ever cared to find out. I sat there like a ghost, swallowing down the dry food.
Noah himself answered father, with smile on his face, looking like the ever perfect son father wanted. I was sure father had once wished he had two version of Noah and zero version of Micah. After all, I’m the one who is unwanted.
"But, why exactly are you back home so early, father?" Noah finally asked, voicing the exact question that had been rotting in my mind all morning.
I stopped chewing entirely, holding my breath just to hear the response.
Father set his fork down, his expression grim. "You must have already heard about the tragic death of the prime minister’s daughter."
I flinched, almost nodding automatically before remembering he wasn’t even looking at me.
"Yes, I did," Noah said softly. His tone was perfectly laced with sorrow, completely gentle and calm. Watching him act so devastated made a sick wave of horror crash over me. How could he look like that? Like he wasn’t the exact monster who pushed her? Noah clasped his hands together devoutly. "May her soul rest in gentle peace."
Following his lead, father and I immediately pressed our hands together. "Amen," we chorused in unison.
The silence returned for a heavy, agonizing second before father spoke again. "The official burial ceremony will be taking place at our church. It’ll be happening tomorrow, so I have to get some local ministry arrangements done today." He paused, casting a stern, commanding look across the table at Noah and me. "You two absolutely have to be present. She’s your school mate after all, isn’t she?"
"Yes, father," we chorused automatically.
Present? The word echoed like a death sentence in my mind. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted out. I desperately wanted to escape a house with a father who despised my existence, and I definitely didn’t want to be trapped with a brother who was a killer.
My hands were trembling so violently I couldn’t even hold my fork anymore. Nausea swirled in my stomach. Unable to take another second, I abruptly stood up, my dining chair scraping loudly against the floorboards. The sudden noise drew all eyes straight to me, including Noah’s confused expression.
"I’m done eating," I choked out. I quickly grabbed my half-empty plate, rushed into the kitchen to dump it, and practically ran straight to the safety of my bedroom, slamming the door shut.
The moment I was alone, I began to pace around the small room, my chest heaving as panic took over. What was I supposed to do? Where could I possibly go? I didn’t have a single relative to turn to, since my father had long since cut ties with his brothers and sisters. I had absolutely no idea who my mother’s family was, let alone how to contact them. I was completely, utterly isolated.
As my mind spun in desperate circles, a sudden memory flashed in my head. Damon. I remembered the heavy weight of his gaze in my room, and the quiet, serious way he had asked me a simple question:
’Do you want a break from all of this? From your father? From Noah?’
A sudden rush of emotional clarity hit me. Yes. God, yes, I wanted a break. I needed to escape before I completely lost my sanity.
Moving on desperate impulse, I fished my phone out of my pajama pocket and dialed his number. My heart leaped into my throat as the line connected. He answered before the very first ring was even over.
"Oh! Has the world ended? My dear Micah actually called me first," Damon’s voice came through the speaker, dripping with his usual dramatic, teasing sarcasm as he let out a fake sob.
"Damon," I breathed out, my voice tight and cracking with raw emotion.
"Yes, my love," he replied smoothly, the familiar endearment sending a sudden, comforting shiver down my spine.
"Come..." I muttered quietly. I froze right after the word left my lips, my throat instantly tightening. A sudden wave of intense anxiety hit me... what if he laughed it off? What if he said no? What if he was busy with his own family or gave me some standard excuse?
"Micah?" Damon asked. The playful arrogance completely vanished from his voice, his tone shifting instantly into something serious and sharp as he clearly sensed how terrified and tense I was. "Are you alright? What’s wrong?"
The hot tears finally broke free, spilling rapidly down my cheeks as I gripped the phone like a lifeline.
"Please... come and kidnap me," I wept.