Black Angel

Chapter Twenty-Two

Zola

    The reception was awesome. The guests drank alcohol as they pleased, danced as they pleased. Some came up to us and congratulated us for our marriage. And in this moment, I was the happiest person alive.
    Well, emphasis on was.
    "Zola." A deep, male voice said. The deep male voice. Dad.
    I didn't turn around to face him. I just couldn't.
    "Did you tell him?" I asked Derrick and he just looked at me, his face unreadable. But his voice held concern and activated the alarm in me in its wake.
    "Princess, you should listen to him."
    "I should what, pardon me? Did you forget, this man kept silent as my mother inflicted her abuse on me this whole fucking time? That they literally threw me out, despite I was- I AM innocent? Oh, and the fact that Samuel Laston disowned his only child?"
    The more I spoke, the louder my voice got.
    "Come on, let's go somewhere we can talk undisturbed."
    Derrick said and led us out, the breeze letting the tiny hairs on my arms and neck stand to attention.
    "Okay then. Tell me. What else do you want from me?" I held my hand up, showing my ring. "I changed my last name, just like you wanted me to! I left your house, just like you both wanted me to! Fuck, I-" I couldn't continue because my father... hugged me.
    I stood still. My feet attached to the ground, my arms refusing to return the hug. What was happening right now?
    "Birdie, I-" I cut in, detaching myself from him. "Don't call me that. Only my dad was allowed and used to call me this."
    "Zola, honey, please listen to me. Annabelle underwent surgery and they had to amputate her breasts. After we got back home, I found something by convenience. The jewelry she accused you with stealing from her." I froze. "I confronted her, and she told me everything, which is why I'm here today. And before I tell you her reason, we need to go a bit more into the past. To the time when you were six years old."
    Okay, that got interesting quite fast.
    "What happened when I was six years old? I only remember being in hospital and mom needed to give me blood for some reason, but I don't remember why I was in that condition. Is this now you revealing this mystery?"
    He went still. Deadly still, his only movement was squeezing his eyes shut, the only sound was the wind and the music coming from the reception hall.
    "When you were six years old, we went to the park. I took you there, but we weren't alone. Your brother was with us."
    Excuse me, my what?
    "I don't have a broth-"
    Wait... I thought that was a dream?
    My whole body began trembling as memories came flooding back in of one of the worst days of my life. I held Derrick's forearm, steadying myself, my other hand on my head, his snaking around my waist as I lost balance.
    "I guess you remember bits and pieces. I left you to yourselves to buy ice cream for you two, thinking your brother could take care of you. And he did. Too well. He was an eighteen-year-old young man by then and when he saw that a man dragged you with him behind a car, he followed you without saying anything. Honey, the man tried to..." He didn't need to finish his sentence. His clenched jaw said enough.
    Was that my fate or something? Also, how psycho has someone to be to want to fuck a six-year-old child?
    Oh, I hoped he got sentenced to death for this.
    Maniac.
    "Keane, your brother, ran up to you two, tearing you away from that psycho. He was punching him, knocking the life out of his disgusting body." He hesitated. "Literally."
    Hold on. That was too fast for my brain.
    I had a brother. His name was Keane. I was about to get raped, and he killed the man.
    Well, at least the man died. Even if it wasn't by law.
    I had a brother.
    I had a fucking brother!
    "Wh- where is he now?" I asked, my vision and mind clouded.
    "Since that day, he was staying in the Correction Treatment Facility in DC. Whenever I went there to visit him, he asked me about you. And since you didn't remember even that... incident, we thought it'd be best to not mention your brother and maybe trigger the trauma again. The therapist, Mrs. Kaminsky-" HOLD ON.
    "Mrs. Kaminsky? But I started going to therapy only seven years ago. When mom decided to use me as a punching bag."
    "You were going to therapy? For seven years?"
    Oops. He wasn't supposed to know that, but never mind.
    "Why did mom hide her jewels? You forgot to tell me her reason."
    I quickly switched the subject and Dad, or rather Samuel, paled.
    "He was her first born. Her one and only son. When he got arrested and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison, your mother changed. She discovered anger issues and when she started to take them out on you, I stood up to her. You might've never noticed, because she threatened me with killing us both, you and me. Even if I thought it was a joke at first, she quickly showed me that it wasn't."
    Oh, her one child was more important to her than the other.
    I get it now. I knew she was sick in the head, but that? Wow.
    Mom was a real sociopath, we just didn't know. Or rather I.
    "I need some time to process all of this. Just... please, just go. I'll reach out to you when I'm ready."
    After leaving a picture of Keane, which I asked for, and congratulating us, he left the reception.
    "I'm scared. What if he thinks I didn't come on purpose? What if he thinks I don't appreciate what he did for me?"
    Derrick kissed the top of my head and hugged me tight to his side.
    "Have patience, sweetheart. We'll meet him in a few minutes."
    As we pulled up in front of the prison nine minutes later, my anxiety was rising.
    "You ready, princess?" Derrick asked me and led me to the entrance to the prison.
    The guards checked us for any weapons or sharp objects and our IDs and after we entered the kind of reception, I asked for Keane Laston.
    "Follow me." An officer said and led us into a room full of tables, with guards standing in each corner and families visiting their loved ones.
    Some inmates looked terrifyingly evil, some looked like they didn't fit in here.
    And then the heavy steel door to the visiting room cracked open.
    Entering was a tall, muscled man.
    It was the man from that picture dad gave me. It was him, Keane. It was my brother. I could also see some resemblances to myself.
    His arms, collar and throat were covered in tattoos – his torso too, no doubt – and the hair was textured slicked back, presumably made with water or lemon or something, and his face was scarred, no beard, just a stubble.
    How did he shave in here when no sharp objects are allowed?
    Yeah, whatever.
    He was wearing a dark gray tank top and black sweatpants. Well, I always thought inmates had to wear some kind of uniform. Never mind.
    When our eyes met, his features softened immediately, a smile creeping up his lips and creating tiny cracks in the corners of his eyes.
    How the hell did he know it was me? I would've thought I changed over the years.
    My heart rate paced up to a point where I thought I'll pass out any second. He reached us in a few large strides and engulfed me in such a tight embrace, lifting me off the ground, that my limbs started hurting.
    Startled, I couldn't even hug him back. It was when he placed me on my feet again that I looked up, our teary eyes meeting, that I snaked my arms around his waist, crying into his chest. He returned the hug with silent sobs, stroking my hair.
    When we detached, he took my face in his palms and placed a kiss on my forehead.
    "My baby sister finally came to meet me, huh? After... fifteen years, I guess?" He chuckled, my head cast down instinctively.
    "Keane, I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier. I didn't remember anything about what happened, and mom and dad never told me. Until yesterday. I can't thank you enough for doing that, Keane. God, I'm so fucking sorry for everything you had to go through because of me. Dad came to our wedding reception and explained some things to me, including the incident and where you were this whole time and why you were here."
    When I finished, my voice shaking and my eyes glassy again, he put on a questioning look.
    Turning to Derrick, I held out my hand and motioned for him to come to stand beside me.
    "May I introduce you to my husband? Keane, this is Derrick. We have quite an interesting story, but we got married just yesterday. Derrick, this man right here is my brother Keane." I said, my eyes still teary but my gaze filled with pride as I watched the two most important men in my life meet each other with a smile.
    Even if I kind of didn't know him, I knew Keane was important to me. I felt it in my bones.
    We still stood next to our table and decided to finally sit after the men shook their hands and Derrick also thanked him for rescuing his wife that day – his words, not mine.
    "Tell me. What did I miss in those fifteen years, sweetheart?" Keane asked with eyes shining like the sun.
    Little did he know those fifteen, rather twelve, years were filled with hatred, violence and lack of parental love.
    "Well, actually, I guess there's too much to tell. Three years went well, I guess, but... Never mind, we shouldn't be talking about such things right now. Fuck, I just found out that I had a brother this whole time. Tell me about you! What did you do in here? How went those years you were staying here already? How do they treat you? And when can I see you outside these walls-"
    I couldn't continue because Derrick cut me short with a chuckle.
    "Calm down, princess. Let him answer the questions one by one." Keane joined him with a chuckle of his own. "I like that brother-in-law already."