@deadseeing || continued from here
He tried to remember, when was the last time he told someone about all this? Even though it must have been in the last year or so, the memory of it was faded. He told Graham. That's right. It was Graham and Natya that were among the first to learn what he did. Thomas truly had to face his worst fears back then, wondering if the two people he clung to the most would hate him. It was a vague sensation, but he remembered how his voice shook, how he hunched over to avoid looking at them. He had to tell the same story over again in court in front of strangers, but, it was a little easier now, and her tone helped calm him down even though his hands still trembled.
Thomas shifted from his spot on the floor. He didn't know where to start. There was so much, not just the murder itself but background information, pieces of his life he never wanted to talk about outloud. Maybe, he should start by answering her first question. His brown eyes glanced to the side, it was strange, but it almost seemed like the color in them had dulled.
He paused for a long time. Thomas absentmindedly played with his fingers.
"He could be heartless, sometimes, but I knew he was weak emotionally. There were times when he was kind and you'd forget how viscious he could be. Maybe, I always felt a mix of fear and pity torwards him. I'm not so sure anymore. But... I did... love him."
How could he explain what it means to hate and love someone all at once? Thomas spent most of his time shrinking in his father's presence. Doing whatever he could to fix his mood, hoping he wouldn't be angry anymore. Because John Whitcare was a good person when he wasn't angry. He would suddenly turn into a model father, as fun and reliable as they come, but his moodswings would shatter that image so quickly, Thomas didn't know where to stand.
"There was money trouble. He never told me or my mother Ida, but he relied on an influx of money from the family to fix it. But, when the rest of the family decided not to give him as much as he wanted. He snapped."
Everything spiraled out of control after that. Thomas stared at his lap, he didn't want to talk about it. He should, but, every emotion inside him tried to shut him up. His eyes quickly glanced up at Raine, trying to read her expression, before he looked away.
"He... killed people. And he made me help him. I didn't want to. I really--"
Thomas grew more panicked by the second. All he wanted to do was hide. His breathing hitched and he kept glancing around. As if he was unconsciously looking for something. A long time ago, when he told Graham, he buried his face in his hands. But now he couldn't bring himself to move. Thomas just stayed there, his shoulders arching, wanting to run but there would be nowhere to go.
"It's my fault. I should have told someone. I was too scared of my father lashing out that I stayed quiet, but, people were dying. In the end, it would have been better if I turned him in." Every inch of his expression seemed to sink. An odd, wry smile came to his lips as he spoke softly.
"I'm just a coward. And that's why. All of this happened. I didn't do anything to stop it. He was subdued by everyone else, but at that point. I hated him."
Thomas found enough strength change the way he was sitting. He shifted, and now we was hugging his knees, staring straight ahead of himself. He spoke almost in a monotone voice, as if he were describing someone else's life. He looked tired.
"The adults tied him to a chair and left him in a locked room. I snuck in. And that's where I slit his throat."
Thomas looked up to Raine, studying her. But, his expression didn't betray a hint to what he was thinking. It was harder talking about the rest of it, but the actual murder itself he didn't seem to feel any real attachment to. He wasn't heartless. There was something there, but, whether it was guilt or relief he felt it was hard to take apart in his own mind. There was more, every story has plenty of details but he didn't want to overwhelm her or himself.
