Chapter 16 - THE HARVEST OF SCARLET SIRENS AND THE SURRENDER OF THE GOLDEN SON’S SANITY
The flashing lights of the police cruisers danced against the white siding of the beach house,
casting rhythmic shadows of red and blue across the walls like the heartbeat of a dying god.
I sat on the cold porch steps,
the iron poker still resting across my knees,
the weight of it a grounding force in a world that had turned into liquid smoke.
The paramedics were wheeling Julian out on a stretcher,
his face pale and sweat-streaked,
his shoulder wrapped in a thick,
rapidly reddening bandage.
He wasn't screaming anymore;
he was whimpering,
a small,
broken sound that seemed to shrink the space between us.
A police officer,
a man with eyes as tired as the city itself,
stood over me with a notepad,
his pen hovering over the page like a vulture.
"You say he broke in through the basement window,
Ms. Sterling?"
he asked,
his voice a low drone against the crashing of the waves.
"Yes,"
I replied,
my own voice sounding like it belonged to someone else,
someone far away and made of stone.
"He had a wrench."
"He wanted to take what he thought was his."
I looked at the officer,
not seeing him,
but seeing the thirty years of "yes" that had led to this "no."
"He’s my brother,"
I added,
the words feeling like a betrayal of the very air I was breathing.
The officer nodded,
not out of sympathy,
but out of a professional familiarity with the rot that grows inside rich families.
Across the driveway,
I saw another car pull up,
the tires spitting gravel as it screeched to a halt.
It was Arthur’s car,
the black sedan looking like a hearse in the moonlight.
My father stepped out,
not with the booming authority of the patriarch,
but with the frantic,
stumbling gait of a man who had finally realized the floor had been pulled out from under him.
He didn't look at me.
He ran straight to the stretcher,
grabbing Julian’s hand as they loaded him into the ambulance.
"Julian!
My boy,
what has she done to you?"
he cried,
his voice cracking with a grief that I had never once seen directed toward me.
I felt a cold,
hollow laugh bubble up in my chest.
Even now,
covered in my own blood and his,
I was the villain of the piece.
I was the one who had "done" something to him,
as if Julian’s assault were a mere reaction to my cruelty.
The officer looked from the ambulance to me,
his brow furrowed.
"Is that your father,
ma'am?"
"That is the man who raised a monster,"
I said,
standing up and letting the poker clatter to the ground.
I walked toward my father,
the officers shifting as I approached,
sensing the volatile energy between us.
Arthur turned,
his face twisted in a mask of pure,
unadulterated hatred.
"You happy now,
Mia?"
he hissed,
his eyes brimming with tears of rage.
"You’ve destroyed your mother,
you’ve destroyed the firm,
and now you’ve nearly killed your brother."
"Is there anything left for you to burn?"
I stopped five feet away from him,
the salt spray of the ocean stinging the cuts on my face.
"I didn't start the fire,
Dad,"
I said,
my voice rising to meet the wind.
"I just stopped being the water."
"Julian broke into my house."
"He tried to kill me."
"And the only reason he’s on that stretcher is because I finally decided that my life was worth more than his comfort."
Arthur looked at the house,
the beach house that had been the pride of the Sterling name,
and he saw the broken windows and the police tape.
He saw the end of his world.
"I will disown you,"
he whispered,
the ultimate threat he had been holding over my head for three decades.
"I will strip you of every cent,
every connection,
every memory."
"You already did,
Dad,"
I said,
turning my back on him.
"The moment you laughed at his joke on New Year’s,
you disowned me."
"Everything else is just paperwork."
I walked into the house,
ignoring the forensic team as they dusted for prints,
ignoring the echoes of my brother’s madness.
I went to the master bathroom,
stripped off my blood-stained clothes,
and turned on the shower.
The water was scalding,
but I didn't flinch.
I watched the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain,
the last of the Sterling legacy washing away into the dark.
The sirens faded into the distance,
taking the Golden Son to a hospital bed and a prison cell.
The silence that followed was heavy,
May you like
but for the first time in my life,
it was a silence I didn't have to fill with an apology.
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