Page 1 of Sick Little Devotion

Chapter One

SAHARA

“Why can’t we just be like normal kids? I wanna go home and relax after school… Not work.” Eliza drags the damp rag across the counter, letting it soak up the remnants of a cherry soda that a customer spilled.

“Normal kids have to work, too,” I say flatly, eyeing my sister. We don’t share the same blood, but we share the same fucked-up situation—and the same fear of Ron and our father.

“Maybe, but not every freaking day,” Eliza groans as her shoulders drop. She’s not quite sixteen, making her almost exactly ten years younger than I am. I always thought that when I turned eighteen, I would be getting out of this place, but I’m still here.

For Eliza. For Lilly. For Briar.

Even though they didn’t show up to the house until I was eighteen, and my escape plan had already failed. Maybe it was meant to be that I stay… Maybe Aiden was meant to ghost me. The thought of him makes my stomach hurt in the worst of ways. I hate him. But, before I hated him, I loved him.

“Um… Sahara…” Eliza’s voice pulls my attention back to reality. Her tone is riddled with confusion. I look up from staring at my hands on the counter, and see three masked men bursting in through the doors of the store.

They have guns in their hands!

“This is a robbery!” one of them shouts.

I inhale sharply and then rush for Eliza.

“Get down.” I shove her shoulders, and she drops to the floor by my feet, covering her ears. There’s nowhere for her to go. The registers are wedged all together in a corner, and the back room is in the restaurant, which is out through the double doors.

One of the men, the one who announced their intention, comes right for me. He points a black pistol right at my chest. My mind flashes to a scene of him pulling the trigger. What would happen after? Would I die instantly? Or would I bleed out on the floor next to Eliza, listening to her mumbling and crying?

“Open the register,” the man demands, as the other two peruse the small store. They begin knocking things off the shelves or shoving them into their hoodies. My eyes hang on the one closest to the door. His build is familiar.

“Open the register.”

I blink a couple of times and then nod. The gun is much closer to me now than I’d like—but who actually wants a gun in their face anyway? I open the drawer quickly and gaze down at its meager contents. He’s not going to be happy with this.

“Put it in here.” He slides a paper bag across the counter to me. I shove all the cash into it. I don’t know how much it’s going to amount to, but he might get five hundred dollars. Maybe.

“That’s not very much,” a voice rings out, causing my throat to tighten. I look up and see the man that was by the doors is now standing beside the one whom I assume is the ringleader. Everything about him feels as if I know him.

It’s not him.

I ignore the thought.

“I can open the other register.”

I shouldn’t be offering this to the thieves, but I’m going to be in a helluva lot of trouble for this anyway, and I hate my stepfather more than I hate Aiden. Well, maybe. It’s a close race between the two—and Aiden hasn’t shown his face in years. Seven years, to be exact.

“Well, don’t just fuckin’ stand there. Open it.”

I glance up at the man, whom I swear is familiar, and move to the second register. “It won’t have as much… But then again.” I pop the drawer open.

“I think I’m wrong.” I pull out the wads of cash and fill the paper bag for the man. There’s a lot more in this register than I thought there would be. There are even six one-hundred-dollar bills.

If only I could rob this place.

Pursing my lips, I slide it across to them. My heart thumps unevenly in my chest, and I keep looking at the one that triggers some sort of memory. It’s probably in my head, but…

“Do I know you?” I blurt out the words to the man. He’s still hovering at the counter next to the ringleader.

“Let’s go!” the third one shouts from the back. “We gotta get the fuck out of here before the cops get called. I told you it was dicey to rob this place.”

The three of them head for the exit, and I find myself chasing them. I should be relieved they’re gone, but no. Instead, I’m recklessly abandoning all common sense—just for the tiny chance that it might be him.