Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

path. Looking up at Kal, I’m struck by how immediately your entire view of
a person can change, when presented with new information about them.
When I felt the scars on his body, proving a lifetime of evil deeds, I saw a
man trapped in a monster’s body.
When I saw the pictures of his mom and sister, my heart ached for a boy
with no one, who grew up and filled the cracks in his soul with whatever
scraps of attention and affection he could get.
Now, all I see is a liar.
A man I don’t even recognize; his shape shifts into a sinister being as I
stare at him silently, still hoping beyond hope that he’ll refute what my
mother’s saying. That I wasn’t his sloppy seconds, his only option.
His revenge piece.
‘You’re of no use to me dead, little one.’
I suppose this solves that mystery.
Pushing my chair slowly back from the table, I keep my eyes trained on
my glass of water, refusing to look at anyone in fear of an instant breakdown.
“I don’t want to be late for Ari’s recital.”
I feel three pairs of eyes on me, feel the surprise from all of them.
“Elena,” Papá says, and I hear his chair scrape across the concrete, creaking
as he stands. “We should probably talk about this—”
Shaking my head, I press my lips together, afraid of what might slip out if
given the slightest opportunity. A sob tickles the back of my throat, and no
matter how many times I try to push it down, it refuses, lodging itself there
like agony demanding my attention.
Whoever said the stages of grief don’t just apply to death was onto
something.
Turning on my heel, I sidestep my chair and head back into the house,
passing through the kitchen. I swipe my purse and coat from the sofa in the
living room, almost making it to the front door before a hand grabs my wrist,
yanking me backward.
“Don’t you dare leave this house without talking to me,” Kal snaps,
turning me around so I’m facing him. “We don’t do that shit.”
Trying to twist out of his grip, I snarl, “We don’t do anything. Don’t tell
me to open up about how I’m feeling when you’ve been lying to me the
entire time I’ve known you.”
“When would have been a good time to bring it up? I couldn’t very well
be buried in your pussy and casually dredge up the fact that I’ve seen your