Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 56 (Kylie)

My legs give out, falling flat on my ass, at the same impact I fell into my hell.

It all comes back. Rushing over me, suffocating me.

My father's tall imposing form comes into view and without a word, he lifts me up as he had when I was

twelve and hurt my knee, as he did when I was thirteen and my mother came back, as he did when I

had no one left, as he had time and time again in my life.

When I needed a lift this man has always been there. My Papa.

Holding me in his powerful arms, as he has so many times before.

And it is now that I am without doubt that I am safe to let go.

I am safe to show him who I am.

Who I have become, and I do.

“Papa, please.” My plea is my torment, my plea is the truth, my plea is for him.

My father sits with me on the couch by the window. Cocooning me as a baby in his arms.

“It is time you tell me everything, Kylie.”

I nod my head, still silent as my emotions come flooding. Silent as I lay safely, as a child once again in

my father's arms- protected, loved, nurtured.

I don't cry, as I should, I just feel.

And I tell my father everything.

Starting from the day I really put my foot on the wrong path.

I tell my father about the first day Vincent Stone walked into that restaurant, the day Vincent Stone put

himself into view.

I tell papa about my love for Vincent, my addiction to him. I tell him about my kidnapping, my rape, the

endless torture sessions, the twenty-two videos.

I tell my father everything, but most of all I tell him about the killings.

I tell him how I am forced to watch.

I tell him how Vincent takes my body in front of all those dead victims, and lastly, I tell him about the

war between the Famiglia and the Outfit.

I don't stop and my father just holds me tighter, never interrupting.

It is hours gone as we sit here, on our chair, where we shared laughs and happiness, sadness and joy.

In this small office, I tell my papa how bleak my life has become, how far I have fallen into a never-

ending fire.

And as I talk I feel, I feel it so much. Anger, hatred, love, pain it all rips into me.

He is quiet when I am done, my throat painful, my heart in shreds, my entire world ripped open to so

much.

I still don't cry, I can't, something is holding me back and I am not sure what it is.

Hours pass as we sit quietly.

Papa never lets me go.

He holds me just like when I was younger before I became Frost.

“Kylie, it is going to all workout.” My father's voice is one of the softest I have ever heard him speak,

that I can't help but lay my head on his shoulder and listen.

“Sometimes loving someone can make you do crazy things, you allow them so much control over you

that you turn to blindness when they wrong you. What happened to you wasn't your fault Kylie, you

went to that place to save a little girl, your intention was one of nobility. I can't say sorry for what

happened to you honey because it isn't going to make anything better. Vincent won't stop killing Kylie,

you have to ask yourself whether you can live with those people's lives on your hands, because right

now, every time he takes a life and you allow it, it is on your hands. And I know you are in pain, and you

want him to love you, but he won't. I am fucking bleeding in pain for you but what happened was a

tragedy what is happening now is cold-blooded murder. Sometimes we got to make choices, they not

easy ones, and now baby, you need to make those difficult choices, you know what you have to do, I

raised you right, I have faith in you, honey.”

My father says his piece and I listen attentively, just like he taught me when I was younger.

'Ears open, eyes on me Kylie, and keep that chin up.' I remember him saying that since I was barely

six. I could still hear those words clearly in my mind.

He places me gently on the empty space next to him and gets up. I stare out of the window, watching

the white house, my mind a blank mess.

Papa comes to stand next to me, placing his hand on my head, bending down he kisses me on my

cheek.

His lips lingering as the roughened texture of his beard pokes my flesh.

“I love you, Kylie.”

“I love you too papa.”

Papa sits down next to me, his familiar scent a warm welcome, that I am home, where I need to be.

We watch the white house and other buildings through the window.

Only now we are both shadowed with demons, we are both clouded with dooming decisions.

I have never denied I am my papa's daughter. Marcus Bray, the toughest man I know, and heaven

above knows how much of his daughter I really am.

Mama always said I am just like my father. I knew it all along, which is why I am sitting on this couch,

next to him, with all my secrets now his. Which is why I am able to tell them without feeling an ounce of

guilt for my sins.

He is half of me, and I am half of him. You can't judge half of you.

When the time comes I hope I am just as strong and resilient as he is too.

My story isn't over yet. Papa has faith me, and I am going to see it through because I am a Bray. Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

I will never feel like Kylie, but I will always be Marcus Bray's daughter, and he didn't raise any

weakling.