You Are A CURSE!

Katniss

I gave him a confused look, tilting my head slightly. “Of course, sir,” I replied to his earlier question.

A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of Mr. Corleone’s lips. His gaze fixed ahead, the car already in motion as we pulled away. I turned my attention forward as well, but faintly, I heard him murmur.

“That will change.”

I snapped my head back toward him, startled. “Excuse me, sir? Did you say something?” I asked, needing clarification.

I had caught a glimpse of his words, but their meaning eluded me. Was he talking about our talking about ‘friends’ earlier? But Mr. Corleone remained silent, his focus entirely on the road ahead. I shrugged it off, refusing to dwell on it.

***

James

“Wait!” Liam Kent’s voice cut through the air just before I disappeared from his sight. "It’s been so long since we’ve talked. Don’t you miss your sweet older brother?" He spoke with that sickeningly sweet tone, exaggerated on purpose.

I stopped in my tracks, hearing his footsteps growing closer.

Thwack!

He slapped my right shoulder. I immediately shrugged it off and spun around, shooting him a deadly glare.

“Keep your disgusting hands off me,” I growled, warning him.

Brother? The word itself made me sick. To me, he wasn’t anyone, least of all family.

"You’ve really grown into an arrogant man, haven’t you?" he sneered. "What is it? Has all that power—what should’ve been mine—gone to your head, little brother?"

My fists clenched, hard. God, how badly I wanted to smash his smug face.

"Your mouth... How dare you say that? Power that should’ve been yours, huh?" My voice was dripping with venom.

Liam snorted. "Of course. That was always meant for me. Remember, you’re just a stand-in. You only got what you have because I wasn’t around. Don’t think for a second you can forget that," he said, stepping closer. His face was inches from mine, his voice now a whisper in my ear.

"You’ve always been just my shadow. A substitute. You’ve never mattered. You’ll never be number one, James. Know your place."

I shoved him back, grabbing him by the collar, pulling him close until our faces were mere inches apart, our eyes locked in a dangerous stare.

“A coward like you, who ran from responsibility just because you ‘weren’t ready’ and wanted to enjoy life? You don’t get to talk down to someone who’s carried the weight you threw away at a young age," I spat, my grip tightening.

His eyes darkened, filled with rage. Good. I had struck a nerve. But I wasn’t about to take it back, because it was the truth.

He grabbed my collar in return, yanking me toward him. Both of us were ready to tear each other apart, years of buried anger bubbling to the surface.

"Someone who caused our mother’s death has no right to speak like that! You’re cursed, James! Your birth brought a curse on this family!” he spat, his voice shaking with raw emotion, fury radiating from every word.

“If you hadn’t been born, mother would still be here with me! Not dead, buried in the ground!” His words were like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline.

His accusation dragged up the guilt I had tried to bury deep within me. It was a pain I never escaped—being blamed for her death. And for what? I never asked to be born, never asked to take her life in the process.

I shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn’t my fault, not really. If I had a choice, I would have never been born if it meant she could’ve lived a happy life with my father, with her family.

But no matter how much I told myself that, a part of me still blamed myself. My brother’s words were only echoing the voice inside me, the one that had always whispered, I am a curse.

I snapped. My fists clenched, ready to strike, as did his, but then a voice cut through the tension.

“LIAM! JAMES! STOP!”

Her voice echoed, followed by the irritating click of heels approaching fast.

‘Ah, great. Another annoying interruption.’

Emma Kent. My stepmother. The woman they dared to say could replace my real mother. I had never seen my mother except in photos, but hearing anyone say Emma could ever take her place? It made my blood boil. No one could ever replace her.

"Liam, let go of your brother!" she ordered, and he immediately released me. I followed suit—not because I obeyed her, but because I was tired of listening to her damn voice.

Emma glared at us both, exasperated. “Why are you always fighting? You’ve never been close, not even as kids. Back then, it was over toys. Now, it’s something else.” She sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Stop it, Emma. I don’t want to hear a single piece of advice from you,” I cut her off before she could even start.

Emma stared at me, arms crossed over her chest. “James, listen to me. Your brother’s right. He just got home. You should’ve greeted him more kindly.”

“And you, Liam, you should’ve been gentler with your brother. Stop provoking him. You’re older, more mature. You should understand he’s got a bit of a temper.”

Gah! This witch!

I’ve never liked Emma. She pretended to be this perfect, sweet woman with everyone—me, Liam, and especially my father. That’s how she convinced him to marry her. But I know the truth. She wasn’t from the upper class, wasn’t anything special. She used to sell herself. A whore. I found out when I turned 18, from the whispers of the house staff. It wasn’t a secret.

She’s manipulative, clever with her lies. But how could my father fall for it? I’m sure she’s been playing him for years, twisting his mind.

She’s tried to act like a mother to me, and I even tried to accept her once, but I can’t. Every part of me rejects her. The only reason I tolerate her is out of respect for my father. Otherwise, she’s nothing to me.

“Hah. Whatever. I don’t care about either of you,” I finally said, turning to leave. But that bastard Liam wasn’t done pushing my buttons.

“Enjoy your power while it lasts, little brother. You’ll lose it sooner than you think.”

My fists clenched tightly again.

Damn it! That bastard! I need to figure something out, fast.

To be continued…