Jarvis rasped an order into the phone to whoever was on the other end.
"Cut the old hag's tubes—"
"I'll spit it out!"
My whole body trembled as I spat the pendant containing my foster father's ashes onto the floor.
"There... take it..."
Jarvis pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and picked up the pendant, now slick with my blood. He looked at me with a twisted smile.
He stared down at my bloodshot eyes, then planted his foot on top of my head.
"What's this? Crying? Daddy issues?"
He pointed at himself.
"I'll be your daddy. Go on. Call me Dad. Let me hear it."
A tidal wave of hatred churned inside my chest.
Tamara stood off to the side, watching the show with undisguised amusement.
I glanced at my foster father's portrait, most of it already consumed by fire.
Over and over, I apologized to him in my heart.
Dad, your son is a disgrace. But I can't refuse. Mom is still in that animal's hands...
"Are you going to say it or not?!"
Jarvis grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed me against the wall.
"My patience is running thin..."
I glared at him through bloodshot eyes, my entire body shaking, and forced the word through clenched teeth.
"...Dad."