The Rhodes Method

twenty-one

'Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire
Your arson's match your somber eyes
And I'll still see it until I die
You're the loss of my life'
--- loml, Taylor Swift

OCTAVIA RHODES

"It's Raymond who set me up."

I swear the house goes still at Damien's confession: the fridge stops buzzing, the wind stops howling and our breaths momentarily pause.

My eyes snap to my father immediately, and I search him for any sign of guilt. Any indication of remorse for what he's done – for making Damien's life a living hell, as he walks on eggshells every passing day with the threat of the blackmail lingering on his head.

The reality of my brother's words sink in then, and a sharp jabbing pain shoots through my heart. A surge of protectiveness overcomes me, mixed with anger and my overbearing feelings from before, and suddenly, I am ready to charge at him. But Damien's arms wrap around me, holding me back. He does not say it aloud, but when he pushes me against his chest, I think he's trying to tell me wordlessly, 'Don't react. Let him.'

But I really can't help it. This whole time, over these past couple of weeks, we have been looking for a guy who Damien has pissed off. Or someone Mason has pissed off. We could have never expected the person behind the threats and mail and pictures to be our own blood. I am bursting with heat. Damien's hold on me tightens.

"Don't worry," he now whispers in my ear. It's a calm facade I want to see through.

"Damien," my father speaks finally. His words are slow and thoughtful. He stares Damien straight in the eye when he says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The denial only raises my anger.

Damien does not respond. Everyone says my middle brother and I are the most alike but I have not felt so different from him before. Damien keeps his emotions in check. His breaths are slightly fractured, but he is not fighting my father for answers. He waits.

Damien has our mother's eyes. I wonder if Raymond sees her when he stares at him. They stand like that, staring, unmoving.

Raymond breaks the silence again, "Well? You came here to accuse me of something I didn't do."

"You know what you did," Damien threatens quietly. "And you need to let go of it."

"I don't know—"

"Raymond," Damien seethes and drops his arms from around me. "I know that you're responsible for this. I don't give a flying fuck if you're unprepared. I know it was you." My father opens his mouth, his face in denial. Damien goes on, "Mason's body was in the lake. It was you who put him in there. And it was also you who is blackmailing me for it."

Raymond's eyes widen. And there it is: a flicker of something else.

"You're the one who sent me mail to my house. It's you." Damien lets out a deep breath. "So this is how things are going to go—"

"Damien," my father expresses. "I told you—"

"It was you!" Damien roars. "I know it was you!"

Raymond stops.

Damien goes on, "Does the name Nikolas Fanning ring a bell to you? You've been in contact with him over the last few months. He was the one who led me to you." Raymond watches as the words roll off Damien's tongue, quickly, without stumbling of any kind. "According to him, you would not stop asking questions about me."