Chapter forty – Breaking Hearts

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-Two days later – October 21, 1987-

-Citria's Point of View-

Well, it's been two days since Michael and I finally made amends. Today, we're going to see my father; he seemed pretty shaken up after the whole "Marco" ordeal a few days back, and so I'm trying to see him as much as possible until he ... recovers, I guess. It's also a chance for me to see Clover and Reiss; make sure they're okay, too.

It's currently about 8:45am, and breakfast is being prepared. It's nothing much, because I just want us to get out the house and to father's, so it's just a matter of toast and cereal this time. Michael's in the living room; having declined his offer of helping, I kind of made him go in there to wait for my announcement that food is ready.

As I'm setting the cutlery at the table, I hear a faint sound coming from the living room. Curious, I sneak out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and to the ajar door leading into the room. Silently, I listen, as I hear Michael singing.

"I'm in love ... with a beautiful girl ...
I'm in love ... with a beautiful ... girl ... "

His voice is simply gorgeous. He never really sung in front of me before; he probably isn't aware that I'm listening. It's difficult to prepare breakfast when this stunning sound is coming from him. Maybe I'll just listen a few moments more ...

"Can't you see ... that ... I'm ... in ... love ... ?" he sings over and over, each time sounding more perfect than the last.

At these words, an uncontrollable smile spreads across my face. It's good enough hearing him sing; but hearing the words and knowing they're about me? That's just ... incredible.

Peeping my head around the door, I notice that he's trying to fix my vase once again. He's been working on it for three days now, and is making small progress with each time he makes another attempt. I'd say that about a quarter of the vase is back together, which is real good considering how many little tiny pieces there are.

He's singing whilst he works. Isn't that just so cute?

Finally deciding to raise awareness to the fact I'm here, I open the door a little wider, before speaking softly. "Your voice is beautiful."

He whips his head up and around, so that his eyes meet mine. He looks a little surprised that I caught him, but he soon smiles. "Sorry. It was just ... I don't know. It was just while I was waiting for breakfast."

"I see ... " Venturing into the room a little more, I join him on the sofa, embracing his leant-forward body from behind, my arms coiling around his neck, and draping over his chest. "You should sing more often." To emphasise my enthusiasm, I lean over his shoulder and plant a kiss on his cheek, causing him to smile, flushing a gentle pink colour.

"I don't take it seriously," he explains, a shy smile still lingering on his lips. "It's just a little bit of fun, you know?"

"Mm-hmm." My fingers ruffle his hair gently. "Breakfast'll be ready soon. Just got to wait on the toast."

"Great. And you should be proud of me; not scolding you for touching my precious curls." He turns his head, smirking at me, as if he just did the most amazing thing known to man.

"Would you like a medal?" I retort sarcastically, biting my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

"When will your sarcasm stop, huh?" he questions, his expression serious, but his tone everything but. "And no, I don't want a medal. But thanks for asking."

"Fair enough," I comment, moving my arms from around him; instead sitting by his side as he attempts to piece the vase together.

As soon as I've sat next to him, he pauses what he's doing for a moment, turns his head to face me, and leans in, kissing me deeply. His hand rests against the back of my head to support his position, then he allows the kiss to last a few seconds more, before pulling slowly away. A satisfied smirk touches upon his mouth. "I told you I'd surprise kiss you when you weren't expecting it."

"I've been waiting weeks for that!" I chuckle, flicking one of his baby strands into his face. "About time you finally did it."

"Well, I didn't want you to expect it. I've been waiting so long to do it." He grins playfully at me, visibly stifling laughter.

It's then that I hear the toaster. "Breakfast is ready."

"Sweet," he answers, standing up from the sofa – but not without helping me up too, like the gentleman he is.

* * *

After breakfast, we start making our way to father's house. I last saw him two days ago; the day after the huge argument, and the "Marco" business.

Speaking of Marco; the police called us again yesterday or the day before, and asked us for a detailed description of his appearance; his name; his age – any information we had. They're out searching for him right now.

As we arrive at father's, I spot Clover coming to the front door; she opens it before I even have the chance to unlock it myself. She greets us with a casual smile, before allowing us inside.

"How've you guys been lately?" she asks, almost dejectedly.

"Uh ... not too bad, all things considered. How're you guys?" The first thing I do is walk over to father once I'm inside the building; I kneel down by his chair and kiss his cheek.

"It's been difficult, to be honest. Uncle keeps saying how worried he is about Marco being here. Not just for himself, but for all of us."

"I see ... and how has Reiss been?" My head looks up from father, to Clover, who looks worn out from the whole ordeal recently.

"He's been just fine. Worried, but ... fine, I guess." She sits on the sofa next to dad's chair, watching me comfort him. "But Uncle seems so scared. I don't like it. He doesn't need all this."

"It worries me, too," I frown, stroking his hair as his eyes follow my movement. "If we could move to another neighbourhood, I'd make it happen. But we can't."

"M-Marco ... will ... hurt us ... " dad then murmurs weakly.

My brows furrow sadly. "We'll make sure he doesn't, daddy. He won't get to any of us. We're going to make sure of that."

"He's been saying this stuff for the past two days, Citria." My head turns to see Reiss entering the room, a cut on his left cheek bone.

"Reiss, what happened to you? My God," I breathe, coming out of my kneeling position, and walking over to him. "How did that cut get there?"

"He won't tell us," Clover interrupts. "He just keeps saying he fell when he was walking home from the grocery store. It looks worse than a simple fall to me."

"It's really nothing!" Reiss assures us all, raising his arms in surrender. "Honestly; it's only a little scratch."

"It takes up most of your cheek, Reiss," Clover argues, walking over to us both. "You really expect us to believe it was from falling?"

"Yes. Because that's what it's from," he concludes, before looking at me with a smile. "So, Citria ... how are you today?"

"Uh ... I'm just fine. You guys don't seem to be, though." My eyes avert around the room, at all the faces which contain no smiles at all. Marco is really breaking us all apart – without even being present.

"We're all still trying to come to terms with the fact Marco found us," he admits monotonously, sighing as he looks down at the floor. "It's been hard for us, as I'm sure it has for you, too."

"It has. It almost ended mine and Michael's relationship," I reply, just as mentally drained as he. "But that seems unimportant compared to what it's been doing to you guys."

"We're all just as important as each other. We all need to stick together now."

Unable to argue with that, I nod. "I agree. We all need to just ... hang in there ... for everyone's sakes, and everyone's safety."

"Marco ... He will hurt ... us ... " dad says again.

"Dad, don't worry, okay? It's all going to be fine ... " My heart can't help but break for him; hearing how frightened he is ... It's just so terrible for me. Nobody should have to see their parent this scared.

"No ... no ... " he murmurs, shaking his head adamantly as he does so. "He's going to hurt us all ... He will, Citria ... "

"Daddy, what do you mean?" I ask sadly, taking his hand, rubbing his knuckles with my thumb. "We can make sure he doesn't; we have to be careful, that's all ... "

"H ... He will ... Starting with me ... " he explains, looking up at me with his soft, glazed-over doe eyes. "He's an evil man ... "

"I thought you didn't know much about him," I breathe, my brows furrowing in confusion, as I briefly flit my eyes to Michael, then Clover, then Reiss. Before my eyes move to dad, I can't help but look down at the floor in thought. "But ... But maybe you know more because you're his brother."

"He's my brother ... " father starts to elaborate. "He holds a terrible past; as cliché as that sounds ... See, he's always been obsessed with riches. He just has to be the best, and the most fortunate, and the most wealthy person ... he knows. When we were younger, he used to joke about it, but I never realised he was capable of it ... "

"Capable of what, Uncle?" Clover asks, kneeling on the other side of him, opposite me. "What was Marco capable of?"

Father looks up at his niece, a guilty glint in his eye. "I should have told you sooner, sweetheart ... Marco used to joke about killing all the family of someone he knew ... I think it was his old best friend, Matt, as well as Matt himself, because he happened to have left a lot to Marco in his will. I always laughed along with him, thinking it was all a joke ... " Father closes his eyes, and it's then that I see a tear escape, and roll down his cheek.

In emotional agony, I dry the tear and stroke his hair gently. "Don't cry, daddy ... Just continue the story ... "

Father opens his eyes, and nods, sniffling to pull himself together. "But then when I was about twenty-three, and both our parents were dead, he did something awful ... We were all having a catch-up; your mother Pertunia, myself and Marco ... because we were all grown adults with our own lives ... Your mother was about twenty-one, and Marco in his twenties, too. Marco ... he ... "

Clover furrows her brows deeply, tears forming in her eyes; she seems to realise what my father's about to say. "Please don't tell me Uncle Marco ... "

"Your Uncle Marco and your mother were arguing badly, and Marco ran into the kitchen, and grabbed a knife. It all happened so fast, sweetheart. I heard a scream, and as I ran into the kitchen, all I saw was your mother ... my sister, Pertunia ... And blood ... so much blood ... And I'm sorry I've had to tell you this way ... especially when you've lived your life thinking she died of natural causes ... when you were just six years old ... "

Clover looks absolutely devastated right now; we all probably do. Marco is the reason why Aunt Pertunia is dead? This is so much to take in ...

All of us look to Clover, but she just looks numb from the pain. Michael rushes to her, opening his arms to let her in for a hug. She takes the invitation quickly, not even making a sound as she falls into his arms. He rests a hand against the back of her head, and the other holds her back, to support her position. He looks at me briefly, visibly feeling sorry for her.

My head turns back to father. "But what about this Matt guy? What's the thing with him?" I dare to ask.

Dad nods, and begins to explain that side of the story. "After Marco had killed Pertunia, he threatened me not to tell anybody; not a living soul. He then fled the house, taking the knife with him so he could dispose of it far, far away. I decided I couldn't bear to be in the same country as him, so I fled the country and came to America, where I met your mother, Citria. I continued my normal life here; and after you were born, I finally thought life was back on track. But I forgot one major part of it all, which I regret deeply now ... "

"What is it?" Michael parts from Clover, and asks.

"I forgot that Marco was Clover's official guardian; Pertunia had written that in her will. I left England, forgetting that she would legally be forced to stay with him ... I wanted to keep in touch with Clover, to see how she was getting on with her uncle, but I didn't have an address or a number. I had nothing ... "

Clover looks at my father, tears in her eyes. "It was so good at first. I didn't even realise Uncle Marco could hurt a fly. But now I realise how much he hurt me over the years ... it all makes sense." She shakes her head, as if trying to push all this new information away from her mind. "I forgive you, Uncle. It's not your fault this happened ... "

"Thank you, sweetheart ... But anyway, you're probably wondering who this "Matt" person is ... "

"What's his surname?" Michael questions, sitting on the seat next to father's. "I knew a Matt ... before he died, anyway."

Father widens his eyes, looking at Michael with shock visible in his features. "Matt ... Jackson."

At that moment, Michael raises his eyebrows, his expression matching dad's. "It's the same man! The same Matt! Mr Espinosa, please continue the story!"

Father nods, swallowing to rid the dryness in his throat. "Matt was the man who left a lot to Marco in his will. But Marco found out that all the Jacksons – aside from a few – had left a lot to Matt in their wills. Marco's logic was that if he killed every member of the Jackson family, he would have all their riches for himself. He always said he'd murder everyone, but I never thought he was serious! He made it sound like a joke ... He was the joker in our family when we were younger. But when I realised all the Jacksons were gone ... I knew straight away that Marco had something to do with it."

"Then why didn't you tell the police?" Michael has tears in his eyes now; he doesn't look angry at father as such – just frustrated with why the police weren't notified about Marco's involvement sooner.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I wanted to be one-hundred percent sure! And seeing Marco ... seeing him here a few days back made me realise I was right ... and now he's going to hurt us ... We're in danger ... " The fear resumes, as he looks at each of us in turn; tears form in his eyes from the pain of everything that's happened.

"I can't believe there was this knowledge from the start! ... " Michael cries, obviously overcome with shock from what he's heard. He gets up from where he's knelt, before pacing around the room, stressed. His head buries itself into his hands as he does this. I feel so sorry for him right now ... or, for all of us.

Now all of us look worked up; Reiss and Michael because of their family's deaths; Clover because of the cause of her mother's death; father because of everything he's said; and me ... because I feel so awful for everybody ...

Marco is really breaking every piece of every person's hearts ...

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Maybe that filled in a few plot holes, hey? Sorry if it got a little confusing at any point. xD
P.S. Opinions on the new cover? :3
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)