Chapter 23: Trauma
Stephanie was still hysterical after finding out the news, she leaned against the car crying as Packie finished digging the hole. He got out of the hole and approached Steph, he put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Steph I can't move this guy by myself. Help me put him in the hole and we'll discuss your problem." He told her. Stephanie composed herself and walked to the trunk with Packie, they grabbed the body out of the trunk and carried him to the hole. The two dropped the corpse in the hole and Packoe picked up the shovel, he started covering the body while Steph went back to the car and pouted some more. Packie stopped filling the hole and got out, he walked up to Steph and grabbed her. "Listen baby, I don't know what you're going through but we need to do this together. Now grab a fucking shovel and help." Packie told her. Steph nodded and picked up a shovel, she helped Packie cover up the hole. When the hole was filled they got in his car and left, they drove to a hotel in Paleto Bay. Packie got out of the car and walked into the office, the room smelled of decay. Packie approached the counter and rung the bell, nobody showed up so he started ringing the bell frantically before picking it up and throwing it across the room. The manager came out of his office and looked at Packie, he was middle aged with grey hair and wrinkles, he wore a denim jacket and jeans. "What the hell do you want!?" He asked Packie angrily. "What the fuck do you think I want? I want a fucking room." Packie replied.
The manager gave Packie a key and walked back into his office, Packie walked iut of the office and to his Banshee. "I got us a room babe, come on in we'll talk." Packie told Steph before walking to his trunk. He grabbed a duffel bag out of the trunk and walked to his hotel room, Steph followed behind him like a lost puppy. They got into the hotel room, and Packie turned on the lights. The room was a dump with a small TV from the 80's, one king sized bed, a table beside the bed and a bathroom that only had a toilet. Packie sat the duffel bag on the table and opened it up, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a bag of coke. He made three lines on the table, he snorted two and handed Steph the dollar bill. She snorted the third line and dropped the bill, she sat on the bed in euphoria of the cocaine. "That's good shit." She said calmly. "Usually this stuff speeds you up, you must not be used to hard drugs." Packie said with a smile. "No I'm a pothead." She replied. "Well pothead, now you're a coke addict. Welcome to the fucking club." Packie told Steph. They laughed and he sat beside her. "So this "creep" he's your father. What's wrong with that?" Packie asked Steph.
Steph sighed and looked at Packie. "He started out hitting on me, in creepy ways. Then he did the whole overprotective thing, meanwhile I lose my grip on sanity. The man I thought was my father, was not much of a father. He raised me and provided for me, he put food in my mouth. But he beat me, burned me, told me I was a demon child. I didn't know why he hated me so, now that I know I think he knew Trevor. He knew that I was Trevor's kid and he hated me for it. I hate myself now, now that I know that my impending insanity is because of genetics and not trauma." Stephanie told Packie. "I know what you mean girl. My dad wasn't a good dad either, he beat me and my brothers, he molested me and Gerry. He never bothered Kate though, I don't know why it was just us. But if this Trevor guy is your father, talk to him about it. Fucking try to bond or some shit, he might end up being a good father." Packie replied. Steph hugged Packie and kissed him on the cheek, he opened up the whiskey and poured a glass. He handed Steph the glass and took a drink from the bottle, they toasted and drank.