Broken (The Captive #5.5)(69)

He grabbed one of the candles from the table and lit it off of a torch hanging in the sconces lining the walls. Walking back, he placed the flame before his father and slid into the empty chair to the left of his father. His father's eyes slid to him but Atticus had taken too much of his blood for him to be able to move, rather he'd left just enough so that his father was well aware of his surroundings.

Leaning forward Atticus folded his hands before him as he stared into his father's rolling brown eyes. "If you're thinking I've changed my mind and decided you can live, I'm going to assure you that you're wrong." A muffled sound escaped his father but there wasn't even enough blood left in him for his lips to move. "I simply wanted you to see." Atticus waved a hand around the table as he sat back again. "What it is that I am capable of now, because of you."

His father's eyes flew around the room before focusing on him again. "Atticus." The word was barely discernible.

"I suppose you're going to say it was for my best, that you only did what had to be done and that you were only thinking of me."

"Yes."

"But as you can see now, it wasn't for the greater good, especially not yours. When you set those humans upon that village, you took all of the good that was inside of me and destroyed it. You see father." He leaned so close to him that their noses were nearly touching as he smiled at him again. "When she died she took my soul with her. Now there's nothing left but a hole that will never be filled again. All that's left now is a monster that is going to make everyone pay. I will make humans suffer in ways they never imagined possible, I will make them live like the insects that they are, and I will destroy any vampire that stands in the way of my goal. I will do whatever it takes; squash whoever I must in order to make sure that this world feels my wrath."

His hand fell on top of his father's; he patted it as he gave a little laugh. "And you dear father are the first one that I am going to crush. The ironic thing is that by having the humans riot, you gave me the perfect way to cover up your death. I will be the dutiful grieving son after you are gone, but one day father, I will wrench power away from The Council and unleash hell on them all."

He rose from the table and calmly pushed in his chair before walking behind his father and resting his hands on his shoulders. Bending down, his lips were only inches away from his father's ear when he spoke again. "You were trying to create a man that would snivel at your feet. A man that would be like your guards and obey your every whim, you believed me only a boy that was weaker than you, but I am no boy."

He slapped his hands on his father's shoulders before rising to his full height. He strolled across the room and grabbed one of the torches before walking over to stand by the table again. "I bet you never thought that when you set forth an event meant to punish and dominate me, all you would create was the monster that would destroy you. You see father, her blood in my veins made me stronger." His father's eyes widened at the revelation of an exchange that was completely unheard of in their world. "But when you ripped her away from me, you unleashed something primitive and volatile. My bloodlines are far more superior than you ever knew."

He bent before his father one final time. "I hope you rot in Hell."

"Don't… don't do this," he managed to get out.

"Oh don't beg father, it's so unbecoming. I bet Genny didn't beg for her life." He walked to the door and turned back to survey the table and the bodies posed around it. There was something as sick and twisted about this exhibit as what was inside of him now and he took pleasure in seeing everyone gathered there.

Next time, he vowed. I'll draw it out. Next time they'll all know the despair of being alive but not being able to live. They'll know the torment of being mostly dead while forced to continue on. They'll know what it's like to be me.

He wished he could extend the punishment of his father out for years, but that wasn't going to be possible. With regret, he tossed the torch onto the rushes lining the floor. His father made some kind of panicked noise, his fingers tapped on the table but it was the only movement he could make in his state.

The heat of the flames licked at Atticus, blew the hair back from his face and dried the blood clinging to him as the rushes caught and the fire rapidly began to spread. With the fire came the knowledge that he could simply walk forward, step into the flames now climbing up the walls and leaping toward the table. He could let it all go and be with Genny again. It didn't matter if there was something beyond this life, or not, he would be with her again at least in some way, and death seemed like a much more pleasurable option than this bleak existence without her. He could walk away from the rage and grief consuming him simply by allowing the crackling flames to devour him.

The prospect was so entirely promising that he closed his eyes, held his palms out beside him and tilted his head back as the fire licked up the walls and his father's muffled sounds became more distressed.

If he gave in now though, Genny's death would go unavenged and there were so many more out there that had to pay. Opening his eyes, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time for him. He could not be rewarded with death until he completed his mission.

He watched the fire consume his father's body before turning around and walking away. The heat of the blaze beat against his back and blew his hair forward as he emerged from the manor. Without looking back, he walked toward where he had left Genny's body.