Enchanted

35

I lied.

Adonis' father terrified me.

More than I knew how to explain.

He was a faceless monster in my head: a giant of a man, powerful, strong, ruthless. At first, when Adonis told me about the abuse, I had seen a typical abuser: a man so insecure and worthless that he felt the need to terrorize his wife and kids to feel like he was worth something.

But as the stories piled up, my opinion of him changed from being a coward to being a predator. Mr Charming was quiet, cunning, smart and deceptive.

He managed to break a friendship as strong as Adonis and Trevor's - to the point that years later they still couldn't trust each other.

He didn't just punish, he destroyed.

The words Trevor had said to me weeks ago were on loop in my head as Adonis drove, stone-faced, to his father's house. I didn't blame Adonis for any of this - a part of me knew what I had been getting myself into when I chose to give him a chance. But I couldn't help but feel stupid for not taking Trevor's warnings so seriously.

I knew what that man had done to Trevor and his family: I'd seen it with my own eyes. And yet I'd brushed it off, content to wear the blinders and bask in the glow of finally being wanted by someone. Holly didn't deserve this. She was an innocent little girl. She was my responsibility and I had been to complacent, too fucking stupid to do my job properly.

As we approached the house that held my sister captive, the fear and hatred I had for this man grew simultaneously until they were two beasts caged in my chest, ready to tear at something, at someone. I loathed him almost as much as I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg for Holly's life. I wanted to grab Holly and run for the hills almost as much as I wanted to slit his throat and make him apologize to Adonis for every bad thing he'd ever done to him.

My loyalties felt scrambled, like I couldn't have both. I could either go in there and beg, I could prioritize Holly's life over my pride. Or I could stand by the man who sacrificed everything to be with me. The car stopped before I had made up my mind: before I could even contemplate choosing.

Adonis turned to me and that strange glint in his eyes was still there. After that phone call with his father, he'd changed somehow. He seemed...harder. Adonis was in no way a soft man: his jaw was a chiselled rock, his body a marble statue and yet he'd always resembled a fresh-faced, curly haired cherub to me. He no longer looked like that and I wasn't sure why or how but I was too afraid to ask.

"Stay with me, okay? Knowing my father, he'll probably be in his study." That glint in his eyes darkened when he mentioned his father and I suddenly knew what had changed.

"You hate him, don't you?" I asked, not bothering to refer to the person in question.

His jaw tensed, his gaze leaving mine. "I...I don't know."

My stomach dropped. The Adonis I knew would not hesitate. He never did when I asked him before. He didn't hate his father. He was scared of him, hated who he became around him, hated what his father did to him but he never, ever hated him. The old Adonis was like a sponge: he sucked up all that emotion and kept it in: instead of hating his father, he hated himself. His father was a monster, he knew that but he was his father nonetheless. The fact that he still loved his father, that a tiny part of him still ached for his father's approval...that had been one of his most defining qualities.

I was suddenly overcome with the urge to drive back home, to talk to him, to figure out what was going on. As much as I hated that man, as much as I would gladly see him dead, I did not want him to change the very person Adonis was and that was happening right in front of me.