Blissful Devastation (Leighton Lock Chronicles #1) by A.T. Smith

gigantic home. It once was a place I called home, a place I felt safe and
cherished, now It is just a collection of bricks and cement, that conceal a
place that is full of lies.
    I knock on the door, not wanting to just walk in, I don't
feel like it is my home anymore, I’m merely a visitor.
    The door is pulled open harshly, a woman coming into view.
My mother, but not really, she looks older, more withered and weaker since the
last time I had seen her, five months ago at the hospital.
    “Leighton?” she says, surprised to see me.
    “Hi, mum.” I say without any emotion, not even knowing if the
word suited her anymore.
    “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” my mum asks
me concerned.
    “Everything is fine, I just need to speak to you and dad
about some things.”
    “Sure, come in.” She ushers me indoors, looking at me as
though wanting to pull me in her arms, but she settles for brushing her hand up
my arm.
    “How you holding up, kid?” she questions me, and it makes my
blood boil, but I force myself to rein my anger in, not needing to feel that
way right now. I have more important things to think about right now, and
losing my temper isn’t going to do anything to help.
    “Fine.” I answer simply, once again not showing any emotion.
    “Good, I’ve been worried.” She tells me, making me scoff at
her.
    “Yeah, sure.” I reply to her, rolling my eyes at her. Since
when did my mother become a bullshitting, fake bitch? She has clearly been more
self-obsessed and desperate to keep my lying scumbag father than to care for
her son in the hardest time he will ever go through.
    “I have, please you have to believe me.” She pleads me with
her eyes, ones that once held life but now are just empty pits of fake truths
and empty promises.
    “Sure.” I smile smugly at her, walking past her to go to the
lounge.
    “Son, I didn’t know you were coming today. How have you
been? Good?” my father stands from his chair, walking across the room to me. He
pulls me into a hug, slapping my back firmly.
    “Oh, yeah, I’ve been fabulous, Dad. Of course you both would
know if you bothered.” I say quietly, under my breath, but still loud enough
for them to hear.
    “We’ve wanted to, Leighton, truly, but we have been far too
busy here.” My dad tells me, making me laugh manically at him.
    “Too fucking busy here? What’s busy, dad? Fucking more
woman, killing more people? I’ve been dying inside, and both of you, my own fucking
parents, couldn’t give a toss how I’m coping after losing my fiancée. How my
son is coping after being born three months fucking early. You’re full of shit,
dad.” I tell him, going to his liquor cabinet and pouring myself a large drink,
needing it to calm me before I lose my temper too much.
    “How is my grandson?” My mum asks me, coming to my side and
stroking my arm again.
    “Don't call him that. He is not your grandson, he is nothing
to you. He is my son, Georgia and Brandon’s nephew, Josie’s son, he is nothing
to do with you, and never will be. I only came here to ask for my trust fund.”
I tell them both bluntly. I have no room for calm right now. I just want to get
this over with so I can leave. Looking and being around both of them is making
me murderously angry, and if I don't leave soon I feel inclined to do something
I’ll regret. All my anger and hate from the last five months has been building
up and is just about ready to explode.
    “Of course, anything, please just forgive me Leighton. I
love you, sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much.” She attempts to put her arms
around me, but I pull away, downing my drink and placing the glass on the side.
    “Please, don't mum. I can't forgive you, not yet. Maybe one
day I can, but right now I have too much hate towards both of you. I needed you
mum, I needed you so fucking much to help me from feeling so dead inside, make
me see the world isn’t so bad, but you failed me. I can't forgive that, I don't
know