Sweet Hatred Chapter 162: dead to us

He was the first monster I ever knew.

When I was a child, my ho wasn’t a ho. It was a war zone. A prison where laughter went to die. Where silence ant danger. Where crying only made it worse.

I used to watch him, watch him break our mother over and over again like she was sothing made to be destroyed. He’d slam doors. Throw punches. Spit vile, venomous words. And she’d flinch. She always flinched. But she never left.

Not until the night he went too far.

She was on the ground, gasping. Bleeding. Her dress torn. One of her eyes already swelling shut. And Olivia, just barely eight, was screaming in the corner, tiny hands over her ears.

Sothing snapped inside .

I was thirteen.

I picked up the nearest thing I could find, a vase. Heavier than I usually could carry. Ceramic. White. I didn’t hesitate. Swung it at him. The impact made him drop. I brought it down on his skull. Once. Twice. Again. And when sothing cracked, I didn’t stop, I kept going. I grabbed a candleholder next. Then a paperweight. Then a goddamn iron lamp. Books. Plates. Anything I could find. Even the goddamn chair. Until he went still.

His blood was everywhere, on the floor, the walls, my arms, my face. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had gone beyond control.

Not until the cops ca. Not until two officers pulled off him like I was so wild animal, screaming. My knuckles bruised and wet. His face unrecognizable as he kept rasping. "She’s going to kill ."

I rember Olivia crying and crying and crying. And my mother, barely conscious, trying to crawl toward . Begging to stop. Calling my na in a voice I still hear in my dreams.

But I couldn’t stop. Actually, I didn’t want to. After that night, I never saw him again. My father left after he was discharged from the hospital. My mother never pressed charges against him. She just let him go as she should have years ago. And all three of us worked hard to pretend he never existed. And truly he was dead to us.

But now he was back. Shalessly.

He stepped forward slowly, like he was so grieving guest with the right to be here. Sohow he looked a little terrified, a little guilty now. He looked a little haunted.

But even with that he still looked... like himself. Calm. Put-together. That smug, chilling calm that had always made my skin crawl.

He lifted a small rosary from his pocket, kissed it, and made the sign of the cross.

The nerve.

The priest paused mid-reading. Whispers began slithering through the pews. Soone shifted uncomfortably. The air turned thick with discomfort and curiosity and disbelief.

And still, he dared.

My voice was a razor, low and unshaking. "Why are you here?"

He looked at like I’d asked sothing casual. Like this wasn’t a funeral. Like he wasn’t the last person I ever wanted to see.

"Hello, Aria," he said. Smooth. Practiced. " I see you look well, my girl."

I blinked.

My nails dug into my palms.

I asked again, slower this ti. "Why are you here?"

He gave a half-smile. "To see how you’ve been. I’m your father aren’t I?"

I ignored the bile rising in my throat. "You don’t get to see anything. Didn’t I make myself clear that night?"

His smile didn’t falter. "People change."

"I told you to never show your face again."

The volu of my voice hadn’t changed, but people were definitely staring now. Olivia walked slowly towards us. Michael frowned. Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The priest looked completely lost.

And Kael—Kael was already moving.

His hand closed over mine, firm and grounding, and suddenly I rembered to breathe. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a word. But I leaned into him, just enough to feel real again.

"He’s not welco here," I told Kael coldly. "Throw him out. Drag him. I don’t care. Just get rid of him."

Kael’s jaw ticked once. Then he nodded.

He didn’t even glance at the bastard. Just turned and gave Niko a small signal. Niko was already moving.

But of course, before the coward could be dragged out like the filth he was, he had to try and stain the air one more ti.

"Aria," he called, just as Niko reached him. "I only ca to ask for forgiveness."

I laughed. Just a small, cold sound that left my lips like smoke curling off a fire I’d buried long ago. Mom, Olivia and I had fought hard to pretend this man was never a part of our lives after he left. Mom picked up what she had left and raised us both by herself. And now—

He had the audacity to speak of forgiveness. The man who used to beat the prayers out of my mother, who made our ho a prison. The man whose shadow I woke up screaming from till I turned eighteen.

Forgiveness?

The next breath I took felt like glass.

Kael’s grip loosened and I moved before I could think. My legs carried , hands trembling, fists clenched, and I slamd my fist straight into his face before Niko even blinked.

His head jerked back. There was a gasp, several and then silence, thick and horrified.

He stumbled, hand flying to his jaw, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. Just like that night.

I raised my fist again, this ti to end sothing. But Kael was already there.

He grabbed from behind, arms locking around my waist like a cage. "Aria—listen—Aria, stop."

"Let go!" I scread. My voice cracked as I thrashed, wild and shaking and furious. "LET FUCKING GO!"

He held on. "Breathe—please—breathe, Aria—"

I wasn’t listening.

"You bastard!" I shrieked, my voice breaking apart. "You think a rosary makes up for what you did? You think you can just walk in here and pretend—pretend you didn’t ruin us?! That you didn’t—"

My throat burned. I couldn’t stop shaking.

"You don’t deserve to breathe the sa air! You don’t deserve forgiveness! You don’t deserve to be here—to look at her! Leave now! LEAVE!"

He didn’t say anything now. Not a word. Just stood there while Niko’s hand gripped his shoulder harder, already pulling him away.

And then, again. Softer this ti. Almost sincere. "Aria, I’m sorry."