Chapter Twelve

Anger

Two Months Later

Sebastian

"Who are you talking to, Seb?" my father asks as he stands in the hallway, the dim nightlight plugged into the hallway socket lighting him up as if he were from the underworld, which could be a high probability.

"No one," I deny his accusation, sitting up in my bed as I look at the bedside clock.

Five-thirty am.

"Liar," he spits, walking into the room and kicking at the rocking chair; glass crashes, banging on the floor, making me look over the end of the bed and to the twelve or so bottles surrounding the chair.

"She's gone, son," my father tells me, devoid of emotion. His words instantly anger me, but I chuckle instead, throwing my head back to look at the darkened ceiling.

I allow the laughter to fill me up, and only when it's dispersed freely do I lift my head to face the man before me.

"No, she's not," I tell him, venom filtering through my tone, my tongue slurring the words offensively.

"Yes, she is son," he reiterates.

I shake my head in d