His affliction, p.1
His Affliction, page 1
Copyright
Copyright © 2022 C.A. Rene
www.careneauthor.com
All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental, the characters and story lines are created by the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-7780191-3-5
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Dedication
To the girls who grow up to become stronger than any man and more successful than their daddies. You’re not abrasive or bossy, you’re badass and driven.
Playlist
Escort – Chase Atlantic
Rapture – Nadia Ali ft. Avicii
The Hills – The Weeknd
Into It – Chase Atlantic
I know – Big Sean, Jhene Aiko
Go Fuck Yourself – Two Feet
Lost in the Fire – Gesaffelstein ft. The Weeknd
Crazy in Love (remix) – Beyonce
Slow Down – Chase Atlantic
The Walls – Chase Atlantic
High For This – The Weeknd
Gangsta – Kehlani
Goosebumps – Travis Scott
Bad at Love – Halsey
Mercy – Shawn Mendes
Breaking Me – Topic, A7S
Apologize – OneRepublic
I Wanna Be Your Slave – Maneskin
Prologue
Even after twenty-six years, she looks the same but also completely different. Her hair still a chestnut brown, shining with red highlights in the sun, and I know if I were standing in front of her, those hazel eyes would be filled with some kind of inner torture. As always was the case with Kailey-Himari Richard.
The broken girl, defiled, desecrated.
My very best friend from before we could walk or talk. Her family practically raised me when mine were the epitome of neglect, and barely fed me. We went to school together, and my three best guy friends became hers as well. Until she ditched us. She had her reasons, one which included my dead brother, but I couldn’t ever fully forgive her, and neither could the other three, until they started fucking her. Then throw her guidance counselor into the mix, and Kailey Richard became a walking, talking, glory hole.
I’m assaulted from within. His claws scrape along my insides, his voice is frantic, and he feels like he could really overpower me. It’s been twenty-six years of peace, and it’s shattered in an instant.
All because of her.
Chapter One
The waiter brings a salad to her table, settling it down in front of her, and she says something to him with a smile, making Monster rumble. I’m three tables behind her, and had she been a bit more observant when she arrived, she would’ve seen me. Obviously, she looked straight ahead, that fake, small smile on her face, and those hazel eyes swimming in pain. Drowning in pain. Clearly, this was the look she decided to grasp onto and take into adulthood. I couldn’t imagine seeing it every day of my fucking life.
My Po’boy sandwich is set in front of me, and I nod in thanks, dropping the napkin in my lap. This town hasn’t changed. It’s still stifling and small, and people watch, except for Kailey apparently.
And then he shows up.
His chestnut brown hair, same texture as hers, same red highlights, is blowing in the breeze, and it's a little longer on top, constantly blowing into his eyes. Those eyes are mine. Ice-blue, cold, and calculating. I can see it as clear as day, this man is my son. Unlike her, his eyes scan the outdoor patio, and just before they reach me, I bend over my plate to take a bite of my sandwich. When I come back up, he’s seated to the right of his mother, and ordering from the waiter.
He’s tall, about my height at a few inches over six feet, and he looks lean, not as bulky as I was at his age. But that tight, pulsing jaw, his stiff posture, and the pursed set of his mouth, all fucking me. He looks bothered but I’m starting to see it’s just his look, again, much like myself.
Broderick Richard is twenty-five years old, one broken engagement, unmarried, no children, and works as a prominent business lawyer in New Orleans. He works primarily for the Ballon Corporation, obviously. He’s cutthroat and brutal in the courtroom, and his reputation precedes him. I’ve been following his budding career these last few years, and I can see he has the potential to be feared for the rest of his life. To say I’m proud is an understatement.
I almost intervened many times over the years. His eighteenth birthday, the day I made plans to come forward and claim him, he announced he wanted to be a lawyer to his family. The way they cheered and congratulated him; I knew then he was best where he was. His twenty-first birthday, he was going into law school, and he had a fiancée. I again backed off, and knew the time wasn’t right.
I didn’t need to go into depth keeping up with them all over the years, I had Oliver’s bi-yearly emails to look forward to. Mind you, the only one I really cared about was Broderick, the rest usually went unread. I didn’t care how many offspring Kailey pumped out for her husbands, or whatever they are, I only cared about what was mine.
Another young man shows up, an easy grin on his face, with light-brown hair, and deep brown eyes. When he sees Kailey, his face breaks out into a wide smile, and goosebumps race down my arms, he’s a slightly darker version of Cooper Fontenot. His eye shape comes from Kailey, but everything else on him is Cooper. He bends down to kiss his mother’s cheek, and my son rolls his eyes, that jaw once again flexing in annoyance. Her son obviously adores her and by the way she’s looking up at him, the feeling is mutual.
Wholesome family.
Cooper’s son reaches out a hand and ruffles Broderick’s hair, which in turn earns him a hand slap and the death glare. I smirk to myself, pride once again hitting me hard. I wonder what it was like for Kailey and the others to watch what must’ve been my twin as he grew up. Was he treated differently? Were they more wary around him? But the most important question is:
Does he have my affliction?
I asked in my emails to Oliver and always the answer was no, but how would they really know unless he voiced it? And as prominent a figure as he is here, I can’t see him doing that. This small town is judgemental as fuck, not to even mention how backward, they would strip him of every accolade he’s ever accomplished. I would know.
I can’t hear their conversation over the chatter, but it looks somber, and I can’t help but think about the final email I received from Oliver. He told me things had changed, Ballon Corp was under fire, and my son was caught in the crosshairs. He asked me to come back, knowing how I helped him before, and begged me to help him take care of his family… again.
It pissed me off.
The only one I care about is my son, and if he were in some sort of trouble, then yes, I would come help him. The rest could sink for all I cared.
Monster gives off an angry grumble and I roll my eyes; he would try to fight me on that for sure. Kailey would sway him in some way, and I’d once again be stuck in her orbit. Twenty-two years I spent in a Tibetan Monastery, learning to control the urges, meditating for twelve hours a day with the Lamas, and trying to come to peace with my… others. Twenty-two years and it’s all being thrown away for the woman who brought them to life inside of me.
That’s wrong.
She didn’t give them life, they were always there, but she did introduce them to me. I found them through her, and Monster was the one she named. He will forever be in love with her.
I scrape my chair back from the table, long having grown bored of watching them, and leave a one-hundred-dollar bill on the table. The noise attracts a few looks, one of which comes from my boy, but I’m not too worried about him seeing me.
I’ll be introducing myself in no time anyway.
Dear Diary
He’s here.
He’s tall and dark, his wide physique apparent in the tailored suit he had on. He was dressed smart, his suit pristine, and his hair brushed back, gleaming with gel. The graying at his temples made him look more appealing. I watched him eat the Po’boy sandwich without a fork and knife, and yet, not a single drop landed on him. His every move was premeditated, controlled, and the very opposite of everything I’d ever heard about this man Brody Landry.
He swiped the cloth napkin over his chin, the scruff there mostly gray, save for the peppering of black through it, then he stood, scraping his chair across the cement, and uncaring about the eyes on him.
My body flashed with heat, and I buried my teeth into my bottom lip. A familiar rush sluiced over me, making me groan with a mixture of need and despair.
It means no sleep, no control, and no stopping it once it’s started.
It means obsession.
It’s been a while living with this particular compulsion, but it seems fitting he’s the one to pull it out. I’ve heard a lot about him, mostly the rumors around town about the crazy kid who knocked up his childhood friend and then got himself killed. The one who killed Charles Richard in a fit of rage and burned his body to ash. That last one is a rumor, no one ever could find out where Charles Richard disappeared to, or if he even left of his own volition.
I watched as he walked away from the restaurant, his swagger pronounced in the sway of his shoulders, and those long strides. His legs were defined, the muscle pronounced as the breeze sculpted the thin material of the dress pants against them, and I felt it, the swoon. I swooned for a man who was old enough to be my father.
He bent down and got into his car, a candy red Maserati GranCabrio sport. Even the car made me swoon.
I felt it click into place inside of me. Brody Landry was back, and I felt like he was back for me, he was meant for me.
The car drove off and my chest warmed in thought.
I was made for Brody Landry; I couldn’t wait to prove to him just how much.
Chapter Two
I watch as each of them comes home.
Cooper Fontenot with his exaggerated swagger and a permanent grin on his face. His hair is still a light-blond which flops into his eyes, and he’s still fit due to his football career. Not much has changed with him except I can see the extra twenty-six years lined around his mouth and eyes. Those dimples of his deeper than they once were.
Ezekiel Boudreaux comes home next, his bike roaring as he comes up the street, and turns into the driveway. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. His shirt showing off his completely tattooed arms and neck. He pulls off his helmet, and I huff in amusement when I see he’s finally gotten rid of the stupid fauxhawk. His black hair is longer on top now and it’s lined with grays throughout. It's the most telling feature of his age because Zeke is still lean and narrow, I wonder if he still swims. He looks around as he kicks down the bike’s stand, his tattooed fingers scratching at the black and gray scruff on his cheeks.
Just as the front door shuts behind Zeke, I watch as the newest model Ford truck cuts into the driveway, the matte black exterior is the same as all his others. Caine LeBlanc still loves his trucks and when he hops down from it, I whistle under my breath. He’s maintained his bulk over the years and his forearms bunch as he shuts the door. His dark olive skin looks healthy under the Louisiana sun, and he still shaves his head, only now it’s probably to mask that growing bald spot. His face is a mask of irritation, and his mouth is turned down at the corners. Still the exact same person he was twenty-six years ago.
I give it another hour and when Oliver Ballon doesn’t show up, I figure he must be on a mission. He will always be the sniper for the Ballon Corporation, and I know how often he needs to be out on jobs. There’s a never-ending list of people the Ballons want dead.
No matter how well I’ve trained and how much control I have over my alters, medication is still needed from time to time. When I know I’ll be in situations of high stress or sometimes when the voices don’t quiet down and let me sleep, I take the pills. That’s what I’m doing now, knowing this situation will be completely unpredictable, and unknowing how Monster will react so close to her home.
As I walk up the edge of the driveway; avoiding the cameras in place, I can hear music floating out from the backyard, and the scent of grilled meat hits my nose. It looks like dinner under the purple Wisteria this evening. I’m curious to see how it looks now and at the same time, apprehensive about it. It will always be a reminder of the poise and perfection of Sara Richard, the only mother figure I’ve known. Heading down the side of the house, the smell of seasoned meat becomes stronger, and I cringe. While staying with the Tibetan Lamas, meat became a thing of my past, and vegetarianism became my new lifestyle. I can say, I’ve never missed the smell and taste of cooked flesh.
“Sha!” Cooper calls out, and I roll my eyes. He still calls her that? “How many steaks am I making?”
It’s hard to believe Caine is letting him grill.
“Get away from that and go sit down,” Caine growls, making me grin. Some things never change.
I pull the latch up on the wooden gate and let it swing open, getting a clear view of the swaying purple vines. Those petals remind me of a certain box I used to count the days, the one given away to Kailey. I step into the backyard and see the gazebo; the wood has aged after all these years. The memory of being in there with Kailey the night I told her I didn’t want her suddenly springs forward. Monster growls slowly knowing it was a night he hated.
I step into the backyard and find Cooper and Caine at the grill, both staring down into it. My feet lead me to the gazebo, the vines nearly covering the whole entrance, and sadness pangs through my chest. I was here when this was made for Kailey’s mother, and even though her husband had her killed, he had this Wisteria planted for her to remind her of her home back in Japan. Kailey and I were young when it was planted, and it’s certainly grown with us, I just wish she would take better care of it.
I’m not worried about them seeing me, if it’s time to face them, then that’s what I’ll do. I make it inside the gazebo without their notice and sit on the bench. Twenty-six years ago, I sat in this same spot and told Kailey my truth. The boy she grew up with, the one she was in love with, never loved her back. The only one who wanted Kailey, kidnapped her, and hoped I would agree to keep her was Monster. I did some pretty terrible things to her while she was there, I will never deny that, but rage and holding a pretty nasty grudge drove me to it, along with the disdain of her ruining our friendship. It didn’t help that she had a part in my brother’s death, either. Am I over it? I’m medicated. That’s the best answer I can give.
We’ll never be friends, and I’ll never find myself in bed with her again, unless Monster makes his way out. At that point, it’ll be beyond my reach, and I’ll have to deal with the outcome once again. There’s only a small chance of that happening though, he’s been essentially quiet for twenty-six years. I could feel him there, but he never fronted again, not since the night he took a bullet for Kailey. It was Monster’s final act of love; his show of devotion for the girl who saw him through me. The only person to ever see him through me, and he fought his way out, to kill us, for her. I was fucking livid, I fought to get back out, to push us out of the way, but he refused, and in the end, it did feel like he died… even though we didn’t.
Oliver Ballon was our savior, he knew things the others didn’t, and he made sure we survived what should’ve been a fatal shot. I was more useful alive to the Ballon Corporation than dead, and even though it put his position in this family they have at risk, he made sure I lived. And he held onto that secret for all these years. I reclaimed my family assets; Oliver put my mother in a home for the mentally insane and my father mysteriously disappeared from his yacht on the coast of Lake Borgne. There was no fucking mystery, his dead son appeared to him and shot him between the eyes. The Landry empire was left in limbo until Oliver stepped up and ‘bought’ it.
After the night we ‘died’, Monster went silent, and even though I could feel him there, I couldn’t hear him anymore. He sacrificed himself for the woman he loved, and I respected that about him. We had a special bond, he protected me many times from the fist of my father or the touch of my mother, I missed him for a long time.
“Where’s Mom?” A deep voice penetrates through the thick purple vines, “the backyard door was left open.”
My fingers part the flowers and I find my son standing with his arms crossed speaking to Caine. He’s arrogant, it’s evident in the way he holds himself, like he thinks he deserves everyone’s attention, and I can’t fucking help the smirk that takes over my face. Just like me.
