51 8. Freak Show (1/2)

Alexander's POV.

I was being very patient.

I was being so very patient with Augustus and his actions. Spending his nights drunk and sad and his days talking nonstop with Zig- his childhood friend, apparently, or Ledger- one of my men who constantly paired up with Julius if anything was needed to be taken care of. He wasn't even going to his university but spent all his time indoors, which was very unlike him.

And it irritated me that I didn't know how he was doing. I didn't dare ask him because even though I knew what I did was right, I couldn't bring myself to talk with him about it. And whenever I walked into his room in the afternoons, I'd find him hunched over his table, scribbling things with ferocity.

I was afraid my son was losing his mind.

But I'd call out his name and he'd look up at me smiling. And that didn't make me feel better. Because the only person he smiled to was me. He was simply pretending. For me.

As for Julius, I'd already planned when and how I'd get him back. Two weeks was enough of a punishment for him. All I had to do was head there and I knew that both, Julius and the documents would be in my hands. I had even sent one of my men to the place where they kept him and installed cameras to keep track of the enemy.

I knew this would be easier than they might've anticipated. All I had to do was be patient. Patient with Augustus and patient with my wrath that had been begging for release for quite a while.

After all, patience is bitter but its fruit would sure be sweet.

...

Samara's POV.

I could've simply ignored him. I swear I could've. I could've ignored what he said. What he yelled. But there I was, sitting on the huge, scarlet armchair in the reception, with the neck of a crystal wineglass with red wine between my fingers. There I was, drinking away the horrors of what my love hurtled in my direction two days ago as I studied my arse of a brother who seemed to be watching something particularly interesting on his laptop screen.

It was odd that the time he didn't spend shooting innocent animals dead, he stared at his laptop screen like his life depended on it.

After finishing my wine, I pushed myself from the armchair and headed to the window where I enjoyed the sunshine on my bare arms. I was then reminded of my room's window and piano and how much I missed it.

I sighed heavily before Maxime's voice cut my useless train of thoughts.

”I'm heading out, Sam,” he said and I didn't turn to him. ”Will be back in a while.”

I nodded at the window, not caring where he went. It wasn't like he cared if I cared, and at that point, I couldn't lie to myself any longer. I wasn't here for Maxime. I was here for Julius. For my curiosity about him, that got the better of me.

I slowly turned to find my brother's laptop on the table he sat at. I walked to it, feeling numb with excitement and curiosity before placing the wineglass at its edge and sitting in front of the laptop.

I flipped it open and there was a password, but it didn't take me long to figure that it was 'LEO'. All caps.

The wallpaper was a black, blank screen with one folder. With difficulty, I moved the cursor to the folder (I was having a bit of difficulty using technology because I hadn't used any for eight whole years).

The folder opened and there were, I read, one-hundred and fifty-three video clips. I was a bit apprehensive at clicking on one, scared I'd accidentally watch a porno, but...it didn't quite look like it.

I clicked on it anyway.

Leonard's face close to the camera was the first thing I saw. It was dark where he took this video but I could tell that he was smiling. Tousled, blonde hair, wide, dark eyes, dimples, and a button chin. I quickly hit the pause button and took a deep breath. Seeing him after having had made peace with it, was very painful. I shook my head, gathered myself, clenched my fist, brought it to my chest, and then resumed the video.

'We have a birthday to celebrate!′ Leonard yelled at the camera then looked to his left where Maxime's face popped. He hooted and I remember smiling because it was seldom I witnessed Maxime all carefree and happy. Especially after Leonard's death. They then spoke in French about some girl, whom they thought was cute, before Maxime looked behind his back and tilted his head.

′Pére*. You're ready? Do you wanna take over the camera now? We wanna start already!′ Maxime said and my heart stopped. Dad was there too? I was grinning like an idiot. I thought it was so cute that they were celebrating a birthday together. I even wished I was there.

That was until they both moved away from the camera and I squinted at the screen to notice a girl sitting on a wooden chair in the centre of some space. Some very familiar space. With a heart lurch, I realized it was Julius' 'haven'. She sat, knees touching, on a wooden chair, hair over her face, and hands not visible. My smile faltered when Leonard and Maxime walked toward her and stood at either side of her with wide smiles.

My breathing stopped when the camera was moved closer to the girl at a disturbingly fast speed. The girl was blindfolded with a cloth in her mouth and was in nothing but a short, dark dress. And she wasn't happy like a girl on a birthday should be. She was crying desperately and my heart. Oh, my heart...

Leonard, my dead brother, knelt next to her and I could make out the stage's platform at the back. I watched his hand trace her thigh as bile crept up my oesophagus.

'What's your last birthday wish?' He cooed and I had to clasp my hands over my mouth when I noticed Maxime draw out something from the back of his pants. A scalpel.

'Come on, Leo! People paid to see something worth the while-' scolded a familiar, rough voice behind the camera.

People paid? What? What was Dad saying?

Leonard looked at the camera, smiled sinisterly before his hand disappeared under the girl's dress. She squirmed to no avail as Maxime laughed, running a hand down her hair.

'Women are crazy,' he said with a chuckle before leaning toward the girl's ear. 'Just say you like it.'

Women are crazy...

The girl tipped back her head and screamed against the cloth in her mouth as tears wet her blindfold. Leonard then retrieved back his hand with a smirk and rubbed it on his dark jeans. Maxime groaned and I averted my gaze to him.

'You should've licked it, frére*,' he then chuckled. 'More fun.'

'No, man. STDs,' was my dead brother's reply.

'Are you done with the chit-chat?' was what Dad told them. 'Get on with it!'

The girl squirmed even more as Leonard reached for his back and retrieved a scalpel too.

'Alright, alright. Any last wish?' He yelled at the wailing girl, smile gone, before he laughed, his violent facial expressions changing completely. 'Oh, I forgot. You can't even speak.'

And he swung his scalpel and I exited the video. Oh, God. Oh. My. God.

I clicked a video after the other, my brain paralyzed with fear. What was I watching? What were they doing? I wanted to scream but all I did was cry and cry as I watched Maxime stitch a baby's lips as Dad watched. As I watched Leonard **** a lady and abuse her in indescribable ways. As I watched them soak someone in gas and tease them with a lighted cigarette. I couldn't stop watching. I couldn't stop revealing and revealing more truths.

They were all lies, lies, intricately woven lies. And I was stuck in the middle.

I almost lost my sanity when I watched a video of a room full of money and my dad standing proudly, smoking a cigar. I almost barfed when I watched Leonard and Maxime carry buckets of red fluid. I needn't think of what it was. I knew. I knew. And almost died when I watched them splash it on a girl, no older than thirteen while laughing and yelling 'Thou shall be cleansed! Pig blood!'

And I wondered if that was why the mansion was so dark. If that was why there were so many rooms. Torture rooms.

I almost stopped breathing when-

”I'm back!” I heard Maxime's voice echo down the hallway and immediately snapped the laptop shut, pushing myself out of the chair.

I was staring widely at the reception's mouth, panting, and waiting for Maxime to pop out any second.

I shut my parted lips as he appeared with a sick smile plastered on his face. His hair was stuck on his forehead with sweat and his white shirt clung to his sweaty, lean torso. He studied me for a while as I distanced myself from the table and hoped that my emotions weren't evident on my face. I was impossibly bad at this. I couldn't even be good at it if I tried because what I saw killed those skills a thousand times.

”Hey, sis, what's up? You look like you've seen a ghost-” He commented and I speechlessly shook my head. But I realized I was acting suspicious so I forced a few words out of my mouth.

”I've never been better,” I choked out.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then averted his gaze to his laptop, then the wineglass on the table as I gulped and moved away from the table a little more.

”Okay! Cheer up! I came up with a great idea.” He then walked toward me, running a hand through his dark hair and grinning.

”A great idea?” I pathetically stumbled on my words as I stared at him approach me in absolute fear.

”Yes,” he whispered excitedly, nodding. ”I've figured how to bring Julius to his knees. How to open him up.”

I stood speechless and found myself holding onto the table's edge for support. Because this was the worst news. The worst ever.

”You have?” I squeaked, fear a fist punching the living daylights out of me.

He nodded silently and leaned in to whisper in my ear. I almost scooted away but threatened myself to be wise. Composed, even when my brain was in complete mayhem.

”Dress your best and meet me in the basement in fifteen. Preferably red,” was what he told me.

He then backed away and I had to bite my lips not to utter a whimper as tears filled my eyes. His dull greys caught mine and I couldn't help but wonder about what he thought of his pathetic sister. A sister who seemed to have no problem with shedding tears for a murderer. A murderer who killed her father. Her father, a murderer. And who could've killed her brother. Her brother, a murderer. A psychopath.

And I wanted nothing, nothing, but to free myself from this dilemma because my heart was no longer mine. It didn't belong to that body. It was elsewhere. It was shredded and lost in the clutches of monsters. Murderers. And it petrified me because I wasn't supposed to be here. Because I was supposed to run as fast as possible from both of them.

I should've let the monsters deal with each other. People like me die. Die by the fire the monsters enrage in their battles.

And I'd caught fire from two wars.

I hadn't realized Maxime was calling me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up with a gasp, feeling my heart race under my skin. I desperately looked into his ivory eyes, not failing to notice his scowl. Scary, monstery scowl...

”I'm sorry,” I panted out, feeling my chest constrict tightly and my fingers shake uncontrollably.

”Be there, Sam. Or I'll have to come and get you,” he told me with a smile and a wink before turning to leave.

I pushed a shaking fist to my chest, feeling my heart pound violently against it and squeezed shut my eyes. I could barely stand straight and almost collapsed from the sheer pain of my inability to breathe when Maxime rushed back into the reception, glared at me before grabbing his laptop under his arm and leaving. Leaving me to hyperventilate my fears and insurmountable trouble I was in.

I held onto the table and lowered myself to the ceramic-tiled floor. I let my hands trail down my neck, clutch it, pull at it. Because I couldn't- couldn't breathe. And I needed to pull out what was lodged there.

My mouth opened helplessly and I leaned forward toward the floor, heaving, and pulling at my skin because I wanted air.

Because my brother and Julius were killing me.

I was having a panic attack. The third in that week. And it felt like death was a ball of steel wool, sitting in my throat contently. Sucking and sucking my soul out delectably. It was deflating my insides and reminding me painfully of what got me here. What left me to this. This dry-heaving, broken girl. A girl who threw her heart out to the wolves. An empty, folded girl, with her forehead, almost kissing the floor from the acute physical and mental torment of it all.

I straightened up with a sharp inhalation, tears blurring my vision. I had to calm down. I had to calm down to relieve this pain. I had to stop thinking about my brothers. Of my dead father. A father who did have blood on his hands.

Julius was right. Julius had always been right. And somehow this thought was the only anchor I found to collect myself.

Julius never lied to me, I whispered to myself. He never manipulated me. My brother did. He showed me the ugly, the terrible in Julius while he stayed under the sunlight. He killed me a hundred times. Maxime never really cared for me or he would've kept me as far as possible from him. From all of this.

I needed to find Julius. I needed him to show me the light. I needed him to help me out of this. Because I was drowning. I was fading away.

My breathing slowed down and my trachea opened up as air rushed in. I gasped hopefully, tears fumbling down my eyelashes. And then I remembered that Maxime gave me only fifteen minutes.

I had to go.

...

I wore a knee-length, blue dress. Navy blue.

I had my hair pulled in a ponytail and made sure I didn't have a trace of makeup on. I did the opposite of what Maxime told me to do. And when I descended the stairs, I had to pause in horror at what I witnessed.

There stood my tall, roughly handsome brother, smiling at me in a crisp, crimson suit that contrasted beautifully with his grey eyes. He stood, sandwiched between two huge men who looked scary. My God, so scary.

Behind them was the door that kept Julius away from this atrocity and that was guarded by another pair of guards. I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

What were they going to do with him? Julius?

”Come here, sister,” Maxime extended a hand toward me and I gulped before reluctantly approaching him.

When I stood in front of him, I tried ignoring the two intimidating men who stood by my brother and decided I needed to just breathe my way into and out of this. I smiled at Maxime because it was the right thing to do; it was what fit my role. Because this was just an act. It had been that all along.

”I thought I told you to wear red,” he said, monotone, still smiling and blinking. ”I wanted us to match.”

”Blue and crimson aren't that bad,” was my pathetic comeback. There was obviously no way I was telling him, ′I am defying you...psycho.′

He merely nodded in my direction before he gave me his back as his guards, or whoever those men were, turned too. Maxime waved at one of the door guards and they quickly opened the door.

I couldn't breathe at this moment because my heart was inside that room. If they hurt my heart, I die.