AYLA
This was a joke.
I felt like a joke, watching my father's killer trying to feign innocence.
It hurt.
It really did.
The fucking devil was a wolf in sheep's clothing, acting like he knew nothing about what I was saying.
But I knew him. It had taken only a year to figure that out.
I held his gaze, feeling the sting of the gun slap on my cheek and holding back the tears that really wanted to find their way to the floor.
"Pretend all you want, but you know what you did."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Good show, Don Cassian.
I stared into those dark-blue eyes, and I wanted him to hit me again— to probably shoot me, since he had no problem killing.
I wanted this hatred rushing through my veins to burn him alive.
"My dad's dead," I said through gritted teeth.
Those three words.
Shit!
They made every will I'd put in to keep the emotions at bay disappear.
I felt the tear drip down my cheeks.
