Shattered Asylum

Chapter 94

Aven's POV.

"Hi, daddy."

The words are barely a breath, but he hears them. He always does. His smile is soft, the kind that made the world feel steady when I was little.

"La mia stellina," he says. My little star.

His arms open, and for a moment I forget the pain, forget the smell of damp and blood. I just want to run into them, to feel the rough wool of his sweater against my cheek.

"You came back," I whisper. My voice sounds small, almost like a child's.

"I never left, piccola mia," my little one. His hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking where my skin isn't split. "But you can't stay here with me."

I don't understand. Here, the air is warm. My body doesn't ache. There's no hunger, no thirst. No sound of boots on concrete. No Joe.

"Please," I beg. My voice cracks. "I want to go with you. Don't leave me."

He shakes his head slowly. The warmth in his eyes doesn't dim, but his tone hardens. "No, amore mio. You still have a fight in you."

I want to tell him he's wrong. I've bled too much, lost too much. My body feels like it's already given up.

But his face leans closer, his voice firmer now. "Wake up, Aven."

I flinch.

"You hear me?" His voice grows sharper. "Svegliati!"

The word clams into me like a jolt. My heart kicks.

"Wake up!" He's shouting now, his voice echoing in my skull, fierce and desperate. "Svegliati, Aven!"

The sound changes. My father's voice distorts, stretching into the screech of metal. The warmth bleeds away, replaced by cold, damp air pressing against my skin. I blink, and the world tilts, I'm back on the cot. The room smells of rust and sweat. My wrists burn.

The door scrapes open. Joe slips inside, the metal slamming shut behind him like the lid sealing a coffin.

He's carrying something, a laptop under one arm, cords dangling. He sets it on the table, humming like he's got all the time in the world.

"You know," he says, crouching to plug something in, "your mother was always chasing your grandpa's attention. Everything she did, every move she made, just to get him to look at her." He glances up, grinning without warmth. "Me? I'm not like her. I don't want Arnaldo's attention."

He straightens, flipping the laptop open. "I want Grayson's."

I try to swallow, but my throat sticks. My lips part, and all that comes out is a weak rasp.

Joe doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn't care. "This was supposed to be simple. You and Daniel, Picture-perfect match. Get married, combine the families, and Doug would've had no choice but to hand over more money, more product. That would've fixed everything for me."

He chuckles. "Thanks to your little boyfriend..." His voice hardens." He ruined that."

I manage a shallow breath, my tongue dry and heavy. "W...what?"