“…I would like to express my heartfelt remorse, that Catherine could not be with us on this day…”

You bastard. You’ve used that line before- during her autopsy. It defeats the purpose if you’re smiling while you’re saying it.

Do you really think anyone believes you? Why would Catherine Parker, the one human being in all the Centre’s history, associate with, let alone care for, someone like you?

I would think it impossible for someone without a heart to feel anything.

“…she was a wonderful asset to our community…”

Was that before or after you murdered her? Are your ‘assets’ your own children… or his? The children you forced her to create, or the child the Centre did just before you shot her in the head?

Which life did you take more pleasure in destroying? Hers, mine or Ethan’s, the child you raised as your own, turned him into a freak, convinced him his gift was a curse and the only voice he trusted was a lie? You tried to convince him to blow up the underground, innocent people and himself without telling him about it. Was it a test? Leaving him down there with his own bomb and no way to escape before it blew, leaving his survival up to the voices in his head, the ones he didn’t trust. A test- to see if he could survive your life, become like you. Your most powerful asset- yourself. Stronger, younger, emotionally fucked up and willing to do whatever you say as long as you promise to shut them up. How many people was he going to have to kill before he said no? That is how you do things, right? To silence the voices, silence the speaker.

“…like no woman I’ve ever met before…”

Don’t look at me like that. Not a chance. I’d rather be buried alive.

“…in some ways, she’s still with us…”

I am not my mother. Why do I have to keep saying that? You insist on reminding me day after day when I already know. It’s been burned into my face since I was twenty. He used to glare at me, flinch when I spoke or entered a room. He never saw me, only her, the woman he loved, despite our differences. I’ve done everything to separate myself from her but I can’t. He, you, they, can forget the moment you turn your backs. But I can’t. I wear this face every day- pale and bleary eye- the face of a ghost.

“..I wish she could have been here today, for this opening. The children would have loved her.”

She’d have killed you. Outside, a refuge, a child sanctuary where young mothers take their children and hand them over, no questions asked. Where kids from all walks of life can come together to learn, have fun and be safe.

Inside, Hell. Where children are abused and exploited of any gifts they may possess. And the ones that don’t… older girls become surrogate mothers; older boys, donors and the younger are simply… dealt with.

“She would be so proud.”

Oh yes, so proud. That none of your ‘children’ will ever set one foot in this place. While you’re here, delivering your ‘grand opening’ speech, authorities are looking over a file, full of your extra-curricular activities. It’s not enough to convict you, no, that would take lifetimes, but it’s enough to keep you under for a while- where you belong.

“On a final note, I would like to present a plaque in honor of Catherine. She made a huge difference in every life she touched, and was always willing to let others touch hers as well. That’s part of what made her so special.”

Life wasn’t enough for you, was it? She rejected you, turned you down- for your brother.

Did you hold her down yourself, or use any number of your infamous props? Rope, handcuffs… shackles. Did you like the screaming, the praying, the tears? Did you enjoy it? Enjoy hurting her and riping out every ounce of her soul? Enjoy the expression on her face when she found out she was pregnant- with your children, or when you threatened to kill them if she told? Did you enjoy that?

“Thank you.”

I remember now. That’s what you said afterward, every time you saw me- ‘Thank you’. You've been saying it to me from the shadows since I was fifteen. You killed the woman you wanted, so why not take the next best thing?

“It’s a beautiful commemorative, Dad.” Suck-up. “Mom would have loved it.”

“She would have hated it. She hated you.”

“Despite what you may believe, I loved your mother, Miss Parker, and I thoroughly enjoyed her companionship.”

“Yeah." Companionship my ass. But the question is, who did you enjoy more- her… or me?


+ + +

end