THIS IS A DARK ROMANCE. CONTAINS MATURE AND GRAPHIC SCENES SUCH AS ABUSE, MURDER, RÁPE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ACTIONS.
Kane has never had an easy life. His biological parents were killed in a driveby shooting, he was sold for drugs by his foster parents...
"I should've known you didn't come see your old man." My father chuckled dryly.
"Where is she?"
"In the box." He went over to the mini bar in the corner of the room, pouring himself a glass of bourbon.
"For what?" I snapped bitterly.
"She's still in trouble for helping Kane and Malik get away. Not to mention she took $500,000 out of my safe and gave it to them."
"It's been a month, father."
"I forgot you're a fucking mama's boy so you wouldn't understand." He scoffed.
I ignored him and headed up the stairs to the box. It didn't take me long to get to the room I was oh so familiar with. I spent many days and nights in the box for simple mistakes. My father disciplined, or abused, me the most, which caused me to be so meticulous and such a perfectionist. As I entered the room, I saw my mother sitting on the bed reading a book by Andrew Smith called Stick. I knocked on the glass softly to get her attention. She looked up at me she weakly smiled.
"Hello my sweet boy." She placed a bookmark in her book before closing it and sitting it down.
"Hey, mom. How've you been?"
"Fine considering my son hasn't come to see me in a month."
"I'm sorry. You know I don't like to see you bruised up so I didn't come."
"Hm. What's on your mind?" She asked, throwing me off guard. My mother could always read me like an open book even when I hid my emotions.
I sighed heavily, "Why did you help him escape?"
I couldn't even look at her due to the bruises that tainted her skin. My father had really done a number on her. Her brown hair that was usually neatly gelled back in a low ballerina bun was now in a loose ponytail at the top of her head. She had a dark purple ring around her neck and deep bruises on her wrists and ankles. Although her body was badly bruised, I was sure it had nothing on the psychological torment my father had made her endure. What made it so bad was that he was making her stay in the large plexiglass case that he had built years ago. It locked from the outside and it got extremely cold. He'd had it since I was younger, sometimes even putting me inside of the cold box and turning the temperature down.
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(If you've seen YOU on Netflix, you know what the box looks like)
"Because I didn't want him to end up like me. You're becoming just like your father and I couldn't let you put that boy through that." She scolded me.
