Chapter 6 - Unmasking the Parasites
Thomas guided Arthur toward the plush armchair in the adjoining living room, setting him down as gently as if he were made of spun glass. He pulled a wool throw blanket from the sofa, wrapping it around the old man’s shaking shoulders, and pressed a glass of warm water into his hands.
"Rest, Dad. Do not move from here," Thomas said quietly.
When Thomas turned back toward the dining room, his demeanor was entirely devoid of warmth. He stepped back through the arched doorway. Aunt Clara and Aunt Beatrice were already on their feet, clutching their designer handbags, their faces pale masks of guilt and anxiety.
"Thomas, dear," Clara began, her voice shrill and nervous, attempting to force a placating smile. "You mustn't misinterpret things. Brenda was simply... she was trying to maintain hygiene. Arthur had an accident earlier with the soup, and—"
"Get out," Thomas said, not raising his voice.
Beatrice gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "We are Brenda's family! You have no right to speak to us with such disrespect in this house!"
"This house," Thomas replied, stepping closer until Beatrice instinctively backed away against the sideboard, "was purchased with a mortgage bearing only my signature. The food on that table was bought with the overtime I worked while breathing fumes that will cut ten years off my life. You have sat at my table, drunk my wine, and laughed while an old man was starved on the floor beneath your feet."
He pointed toward the open front door.
"If you are not off my property in sixty seconds, I will throw your belongings into the street, and you will join them."
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The two older women didn't wait. Seeing the lethal stillness in his eyes, they scrambled toward the foyer, the heels of their expensive shoes clicking frantically across the tile. The front door clicked shut behind them with a definitive snap, leaving Brenda alone in the expansive, sunlit room.
***
