REGAN RAY UNBOWED

Chapter Three

The drive to his old home was short, the familiar streets stirring both comfort and a sharp pang of loss in his heart. He hadn't visited much since his mom’s passing; the house felt too heavy with memories. He took the key from his pocket, its familiar weight grounding him, and unlocked the front door.

The house was eerily silent, an echoing emptiness that amplified the absence of his mother. He called out, “Mom?” even though he knew she wouldn’t answer, the habit ingrained too deeply. He walked upstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps a comforting sound, but a noise from the master bedroom drew his attention. His heart began to pound in his chest, the gentle ache of loss morphing into a sharp, piercing dread. His hand hesitated on the door handle. What could be happening? His fingers, tight and trembling, pushed the door open, and his eyes struggled to process what he was seeing.

His step-father, the man who had stolen his mother's love and her money, was in bed with Stacy. He was on top of her, their bodies locked together in a grotesque act of betrayal. His step-father’s face was flushed, a hideous grimace twisted across his features, and Stacy's eyes were wide, fixed on Regan, a horrible mixture of fear, shock and a disturbing amusement reflected within their depths. The red roses fell from Regan’s limp hand, the soft thud a barely audible sound in the deafening silence of his shattered world. The bouquet of red roses he had just purchased lay sprawled on the floor, their vibrant color a cruel mockery of love. The scene was a stark violation of everything his mother had stood for, the matrimonial bed where she had died, now defiled by such treachery.

Everything Regan thought he knew about love, family, and loyalty, crumbled into nothing in that single, devastating moment, leaving him frozen in place, his heart ripped open, the pain a physical force.

The image burned itself onto Regan's retinas: his stepfather, his mother's widower, his face contorted in a hideous grimace, and Stacy, her eyes wide, reflecting not fear, not guilt, but a cruel, almost mocking amusement. The red roses he had so impulsively bought lay scattered on the floor like fallen soldiers, their vibrant color now a painful mockery of love. He stood there, frozen, his lungs refusing to take in air, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

He wanted to scream, to tear them apart, to make the world stop turning. But all he could manage was a choked gasp, a sound so small and pathetic it barely registered even in the silence that had consumed the room. It was as if his own shock had rendered him mute, stripped of his ability to react.

Regan stood still, a wave of disbelief washing over him. Everything felt surreal, like he was trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. His head swam with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and a growing rage. This can’t be real, it just can’t, he thought.

"What are you doing here, Regan?" Stacy’s voice, though loud, had a shaky edge to it. She tried to pull the sheets tighter around herself, an attempt to cover the shame that she did not feel. Her words, however, shattered any remaining illusion that he was dreaming. This was his reality. This was the life he had been so desperately trying to hold on to.

“How could you do this to us, Stacy? I gave you my trust, and you throw it away," he said, his voice filled with a pain so deep it was almost a physical wound. His eyes, wide and wounded, scanned over her in disgust.

“Oh please, Regan, spare me the emotional blackmail,” Stacy retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively as she looked away, avoiding his gaze. Her words were like a slap to his face, confirming what he had already started to suspect. She wasn’t remorseful, she wasn’t sorry, she was annoyed, like he was disrupting something important.

“You two are less than animals!” Regan spat, his voice laced with rage. It felt like an unseen force had taken over his body. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins. He wanted to inflict as much pain as he could on them but it was as if he was trapped in a glass cage, watching helplessly as his world crumbled.

“Watch what you say, Regan,” his step-father, Alfred, said with a forced authority that was laughably pathetic. He sat up in the bed, his face red and his chest still heaving from the act he was just committing.

“I’ll say whatever I have to say, and there’s nothing you can do about that, Mr. Alfred,” Regan retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. The title ‘Mr.’ was a mockery, and he wanted Alfred to know it. Alfred stared at him, his shock almost palpable. He couldn’t believe the courage, the authority in Regan’s voice, it was as if all his life, he had never seen or heard Regan like this before. He felt like something was shifting and he was beginning to lose control of something that was his.

“How dare you speak to me in that manner?" Alfred said, his voice laced with a desperate attempt to hold onto the power he thought he still had. "In case you've forgotten, I'm still your-“

But before Alfred could finish, Regan’s voice cut him off, sharp and filled with a burning anger, “You are dead to me, Mr. Alfred. You died to me the very day I discovered your evil intentions towards my mom.” The words were like a punch to the gut, delivered with a force that made Alfred flinch. Regan’s eyes, red and watery, bored into Alfred’s, daring him to say another word.

Regan turned his gaze to Stacy, the disappointment in his heart almost crushing him. “I trusted you, Stacy, and you completely shattered that trust. I never thought you’d be capable of hurting me like this.” He wiped his face with both hands, taking a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “You betrayed me after everything I sacrificed for you.” His voice rose, trembling with hurt. The roses, which he had wanted to give to the lady he loved, lay scattered on the floor, almost mocking him.

Stacy, hearing his words, turned to Alfred and they both erupted into laughter. It was a cruel, heartless sound, the kind that made a person question everything about the world. Stacy’s expression was devoid of any remorse.

“You’re so naive, Regan, to think I could settle for a broke guy like you, ha!” Her laughter, loud and unpleasant, grated on Regan’s ears. “You can’t afford the cheapest item in my closet, but this man over here,” she said, turning to Alfred, her fingers tenderly playing on his chest, one of her legs crossing over his body in a flirtatious manner, “He provides everything I need, and even more. So why do you think I’d settle for someone like you? Please wake up, Regan.” Each word was like a stab to his heart, revealing the cold, materialistic truth of her affections. The revelation that he was a means to an end, and not someone who was loved, cut through him like a knife.

He stood still, his body burning with rage. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists. Hatred and disgust filled his heart. He wanted to destroy, to shatter, to inflict as much pain as they had inflicted on him.

“I’ve always known you were nothing but a coward, Regan. You’ll always be below my feet, always remember that,” Alfred said, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. His words triggered a flood of painful memories, each one a sharp stab to Regan's mind. The memories of being locked in the closet, and hearing his step-father say those words to him, came back to haunt him, the trauma resurfacing with an unforgiving force.

Before he knew it, his rage propelled him forward, and his fist connected with Alfred’s jaw with a sickening crunch. “You monster!” he roared, sending a series of forceful blows to Alfred's belly and face. Every drop of blood that spilled from Alfred's mouth fueled his anger, turning it into a furious flame that threatened to consume him.

“Let him go, Regan! Leave him alone!” Stacy screamed, her voice sharp and shrill. But Regan, consumed by rage, couldn't hear her, couldn’t see anything but the monster he was hitting.

She tried to grab him, but he violently pulled his hand away, sending her tumbling off the bed with a loud scream. Regan didn't stop, didn't slow down, his fists continuing to pound on Alfred’s face until it was barely recognizable.

Suddenly, Stacy screamed his name, “Regan!” and everything went black as a crushing blow landed on the back of his head. “Aaaaaahhhh!” Regan cried out, falling to the floor as everything was swallowed by a sudden darkness.