After the Sun Sets (18+)

CHAPTER 24 - Golgotha

Beady eyes swept across every corner, every surface. They riveted towards the sound of each soulless sob, each tiny cough and pursing of the lips. Fluttered at every 'God rest his soul' and 'Peace be with them' uttered, not quite masking the whispers flying around like crazed bats.

Owen stood in the corner of the living room, his grip tight on the whiskey glass he was holding. He swallowed hard in an effort to stop gritting his teeth, afraid that his jaw might snap at any moment. 

How dare they? he thought as yet another pair of curious eyes flitted away from him after being caught shamelessly taking him in, speculating, judging. Not that he cared, of course. But Lora cared.

Beady eyes made her anxious. Curious gazes wound her up so tight he feared her spine might snap from the tension. The crazed whispers and her fear of them kept her in place, pinned down, without the chance to ever be herself. Hell! She barely had the freedom to think about who she was or who she wanted to be.

"That whiskey in your hand turned to piss about forty minutes ago."

He blinked and turned towards the sharp, no-nonsense voice coming from the small, young lady with a lot of spirit. 

"That sort of language really doesn't suit you, Jess," he countered lazily.

She glared at him. She wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to hate him. It would have been so easy to direct all her anger at him. But she couldn't. Dr Owen Shaw had spent the past few months practically living with them, tending to their father almost on a daily basis, bringing them the medical supplies he needed, checking his blood levels, making sure he didn't get toxicity from the IV anti-epileptics he had to take to get the seizures to stop completely. He dragged him out of two severe chest infections which had put him on the brink of death and not once did Jonathan say thank you. On a good day, he would have glared and grunted in acknowledgement.

Owen took it like a man. He treated her father with care and devotion and an admirable score of patience. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes low and every night, she saw him leave the house with a broken heart as he wished them all a good night.

Jess's eyes dropped to the floor. She hadn't spoken to Owen directly since that afternoon when she'd caught him and her aunt in his office. 

"Thank you," the girl mumbled in a low voice. Owen Shaw turned to her, and as she lifted her head, she felt herself shrink under his piercing green gaze. "It couldn't have been easy for you."

Owen looked at her gravely for a long time before his eyes automatically went back to the kitchen doorway on the other side of the room, where the sole object of his focus stood as still as a statue, her face so blank, her eyes so guarded there was no way anyone could guess what was going through her head. Anyone but him.

Jess followed his line of sight and sighed. "He didn't hate you, you know? He hated himself for not being able to make her happy the way you did. Even when you were out of the picture, he didn't stand a chance."

Owen listened quietly, trying and failing to digest her words. He leaned against the door to Jonathan's room, or rather, what used to be Jonathan's room. He knew it was empty. He helped Lora clear it out himself the day before and yet, he felt his presence. Something inside him knew it was just a matter of time until his growling voice would call for him, just so he can send him packing straight to hell. 

"He would have hated this," he stated, only his lips moving. Then he let out a short laugh, not with satisfaction or malice. It was the pure sound of irony. Like an inside joke. "If he were here, he would be cursing from Marsaxlokk to Gozo until he ran everyone out of his house.