The words had been spoken. The scenarios all planned out. I knew what was to be done, but it didn't make it any easier. My life with Aro had not been normal, but it was my life. He raised me. He is my father. He is family.
So, when the cops show up at my house to arrest him, I can't help but feel sad and vulnerable. I play the part flawlessly just like he taught me. I'm just a kid. A victim. How would I know he's a serial murderer? What do I know, I'm just a kid? I'm just a kid. I'm just a kid.
"Family is much more than blood," he told me once.
"We're from Child Protective Services," they say.
"This journey with you has been worth it," he had said.
"….tried to locate some other family, family you may not remember?" they say.
"There are only two things in this world I love. Women and liquor, but son, I think I might add you to that list," he slurred.
"You were born Edward Cullen. Your parents, your real parents, are Dr. and Mrs. Cullen from Forks, Washington. You were kidnapped while vacationing in California," they say.
"You won't be able to write. Or call. Or visit," he warned. "I'd hope you wouldn't be so stupid. You stay away. You hear me?" He had grabbed my chin harshly with his left hand. "You stay away. Remember, I won't be forgotten, so don't ever give in. Until we die."
"State your name… Speak as clearly as you can... Everything will be written down," they say.
"I am the great destroyer," he professed.
I'm just another on a long list of charges brought against my father.
Not my father.
My kidnapper. Aro. In their eyes my hands are clean. I'm the miracle. Long lost son found. I'm the Phoenix rising out of the horror, ash and blood. There I am, the healthy unmolested boy. The good that survived the evil. The victory. The headline on the front page.
"Wait until you know the time is right," he directed.
They think I'm sad for obvious reasons. My life was a lie. It's understandable. I'm made to speak to professionals. Most are giving away prescriptions like candy. It makes me think how happy Aro would be to get all these free drugs, not only for recreational use, but to sell. Then I get sad again. He won't reap these rewards. He's no longer my concern.
"Hush baby, don't ya cry. They're never going to find you," he sang as he knelt beside her with a rock in his hand. She didn't rise from the edge of the bank. With barely any effort, he pushed her body into the river, brushed off his hands and walked off. All I could do was follow behind.
"Alaska corrections officials won't discuss serial killer's jail-cell suicide," the paper read. He had cut his own throat. I was completely… free. Yet, I was unable to mourn.
The world will never know how many people had met their untimely end at the hands of Aro Mason… but I will. I, alone, will carry the secret now. I hold the knowledge that I had a hand in more than my fair share of those deaths.
