THE END OF A FAIRYTALE

(CARLTON’S POV) 

Two weeks without Henry’s touch is cancer to my soul.

I Grindr’d a guy and drove back home upon reaching the hotel.

The twelve steps of recovery failed me. 

Therapists couldn’t help me. 

I left the country only to return the next day. 

How can I forget the man who loved me as a father, lover, and friend?

The man who screams my name in the torture cellar like I’m the only thing keeping him from breaking? 

The charges against him are bigger than the Great Wall of China. The state declared him a high-value detainee; solitary and naked, feathered with assault robots and trained military assassins. 

From cutting out his nails, to being pummeled, to electrocution. Sedatives and stimulants replaced food, while his blood rolling down his parched throat quenched his thirst. 

Some said his veins were blue, skin flaccid like a corpse, but his eyes burn like embers. A terrifying gold that licked terror in the spine of his tormentors. Indeed, he was ‘Mad-Bishop.’ 

But he won’t CONFESS!

I refuse to weep for my father’s killer, but deep down I know I’ll never be free of TRISTAN ALISTER.

“The bullet grazed his heart. Sure, you don’t want to be a sniper?” Selene fakes a dry smile, clutching the file to her chest. “We have a vacancy.” 

“I forgot you guys pulled him from the ICU and began torture immediately,” which is callous of you. “They didn’t even let him recover. Isn’t that horrendous?”

“The pressure from the government could crush this building,” Selene nudges my shoulder. “Tristan is wanted, even by the president herself. Apart from his crimes, we have no Intel on him.”

The information seeps into me like poison. “A conspiracy theory has been set up against me, due to my leniency toward him. I’m only using veto power to keep him off limits… because of you.” 

It takes effort to make words. “So you’re saying your brutality is mercy?” 

“I’m saying you have to move on,” she blurts, a wry look clouding her face. “The Pyramid Brotherhood are demons on earth. Every time we have them, they slip away, but this time it's going down to ash. He is.” 

My breath quickens as she supplies, “I’m not saying this because I got promoted. I’m telling you because I care. Mad Bishop is the devil. Stay the fuck away from him. You might want to get an exorcism for what he’s done with you?”

“Selene!” I grit out. 

Who told you angels could save me from his demons?

He’s sullied me beyond cleansing. Even holy water won’t wash away his bite marks on my body.

I want to scream at the top of my voice, broadcast it on live television, but I opt for the hate card. “I don’t care about him!” 

“Then let justice be served,” she rushes out. “Let him meet the force of the law. The cry of widows and children. All those he caused pain… including your family.” 

Rubbing my nape, I feel the ghost of his hands on my neck. “I’m not fully innocent.” 

Sobs reach my frontal lobe: Amanda, cuddled in Mom’s arms. They admitted to forgiving me for having an affair with my step-dad, but something’s changed in the way Mom sees me. 

She cuts me off mid-conversation, never maintains eye contact, or stays in a room with me for more than five minutes. Worse, she calls me ‘Carlton.’

Things she never does before. 

“CARLTON!” 

I jolt to life. 

Selene’s pupils are blown wide. “You were lost.” 

“He’s to be sentenced today without confession, right?” The back of my palm rubs my eyes. “He deserves everything he’s getting. I hate him. I’ll forget him. I promise.” 

Selene inches in, searching my gaze. “You hate him with your words and love with your heart. Pick a side, will you?” 

Past events surface in my psyche: 

“Do you recognize the defendant in the courtroom?” the Lawyer asks, voice flat and numb. 

The courtroom smells of perfumes and guilt. Eyes peck into me as Crow beaks on a corpse. 

Tristan stands in the dock, wrists cuffed backwards, plasters litter his skin, with his prison orange sagging at his shoulder. 

My lungs jump, and my eyes burn. 

I gulp down the sensations eating up my chest. “Yes, that’s my stepfather.” 

The lawyer edges forward, eyes acute with a clinical pose. “Did you witness any violence or threatening behaviour from him?” 

Tristan's eyes flip to me, flickering haphazardly. 

Mom nods. Selene’s expression is blank. Amanda blows her nose into her napkin, sobbing. 

I don’t look at Tristan when I say, “Yes. He raped me on multiple occasions and threatened to harm me if I spoke out.” 

The lie hurts, but what scalds deeper is the look on Tristan’s eyes. 

What did he expect? 

I should testify in his favor, and sweep vengeance under the carpet? 

Fall on my knees and suck his cock while he bunches my hair with those… those evil, bloody, serial killing hands? 

“Baby,” Tristan's chest swells and collapses. “I wouldn’t, didn’t, will never hurt you, and you know it. Why?”

The Lawyer’s voice rings out. “Did you see any weapons in his possession?” 

This time, I look Tristan dead in the eye when I say, “Yes, there were guns in his closet. Different grades and sizes with blood and human matter on them.” 

Placing my hand on the Holy Bible, I swear, with a wounded heart and angry spirit. “As God is my witness.” 

“LIAR!” Tristan launches from the dock with lava in his eyes, barrelling at me. “You loved me! You consented! Why are you doing this to me?! It’s me, Bunny, your HUNTER!”

My heart thrashes, but I stay glued to my spot. 

Ruckus erupts in the courtroom. 

The Cops secure me, while Tristan is rough-handled, boots pounding him to the ground, with tasers pressed into his sides. He roars my name, even as they sedate him to unconsciousness. 

The Judge’s gravel rebounds. 

The verdict is passed. 

I fade out. 

—---------

I look away. 

Selene captures my jaw. 

I lash out defensively. “If I haven’t chosen, will I testify against him?” 

“You did it to trick your conscience,” her tone skids to a whisper. “Don’t forget that man fed your father to his hounds.” 

A tear dribbles down my cheek. 

Dad possessed a big heart and a small pocket. Mom invested in him, but it never yielded a profit. They divorced. I chose Mom, but visited Dad every evening at a restaurant. 

He didn't meet last month, his contact was blocked, and he vanished without a trace. Mom said he wanted closure; little did I know he’d been digested in the belly of vicious beasts. 

FUCK!!!

“His sister’s body was butchered and tossed into the sea like garbage. His own flesh and blood,” Selene’s eyes dampen. “If I hadn’t been suspicious, he’d have taken you away from me, too.” 

Snort and tear grease my face. 

I can’t believe this is happening. 

Can’t believe it’s true. 

“What if you’re wrong?” I slur, shame plowing me to the floor. “I love Dad, and I condemn what Tristan did, but what if… maybe… he’s innocent?” 

Selene goes beet red, but there’s a dull shimmer in her eyes, like a sheep amongst wolves. 

Tristan said something about Selene being a little girl, remembering names, covering up god knows what. Day and night, I interrogated my best friend, but her alibi never changes: ‘I swear I know nothing that he said. We’ve been friends for years, haven’t we?” 

Years mean nothing. Betrayal only takes one second. 

“He’s dying in jail. You can hate me all you want,” she deadpans and leaves. 

“No…” melancholy tears through me, leaving nothing but shards of heartbreak. “I’ll never forgive you, Tristan… never.” 

My soul is CRACKED. 

My heart is BLEEDING.

And my mind is LOST.

The chance of healing is like finding white pearls in the sea— rare, unreachable. 

I don’t taste hope.

I don’t feel it coming. 

LOVE killed me.

A force hoicks me up. 

The two family members I have left mow at me with livid eyes. 

THWACK!!!

Pain lances my cheek, accompanied by torrents of tears. 

Not from the slap, but something deeper. More intimately painful. 

“You’re making me hate you,” Mom gripes. “Stop, before you regret it.” 

Amanda wipes her eyes and embraces me. “I hate you, but I hate him more. I’m sorry about your dad.”

I don’t trust her or even Mom. 

Mom hugs me from the side. “Selene did the right thing. Tristan will pay in pain. I’ve bought his coffin and framed his burial picture. We shall bury his memory, because he’s dead to us.” 

I clasp the back of her neck. “He’d live long to suffer for his sins.” 

Our wails drone through the air. 

Bonded together as a family, yet this warmth feels cold.

But if Tristan is my better half, then I’ll die incomplete. 

“I won’t forgive you for what you did with him, but we can start afresh if you’re willing to move on,” Mom says, snuggling my shoulder. “Are you?” 

Iron clangs. 

A loud BUZZ. 

The cell guard vacates his spot. 

Squeaking carries against tile, as Tristan is driven out in a wheelchair; bloody, stricken, head slumped sideways. 

His eyes meet mine, searing me with memories we shared. 

A shiver racks his form. “...Bunny… don’t leave me. I…” 

I clench my teeth against the emotions steaming inside me. 

Mom cups my face with expectant eyes. 

My gaze remains on Tristan’s as I decide. “Let’s start afresh.”

Tristan wheezes, lips forming around a silent word. “I’ll come for you.” 

I don’t believe in ghosts. 

I hope hell catches you behind bars like the one you flame in my heart. 

And so my fairy tale with Prince Charming ends.