Knox
* * *
It’s been two days since I put Jake in the hospital.
One day since I got out of a holding cell.
And only one hour after Gigi sent me her last text message.
Queenie: Why won’t you pick up the phone?
Queenie: I need to talk to you.
Queenie: Please tell me that you’re okay.
Not being able to respond to Gigi is my punishment for not handling the Jake problem as effectively as I should have the first time, and especially for not telling my family about him right away. It’s probably the most powerful lesson my father has ever tried to teach me…or rather the worst punishment he’s ever given.
“Do not call her, Knox.”
It’s killing me inside.
The day Gigi was almost abducted, I’d been following her on and off for two days because I’m a psycho like that. When she didn’t call or text and beg for my forgiveness after the way she chickened out on me in front of Uncle Cutter, I started thinking crazy things like maybe she was back with Matt or seeing someone new or just didn’t give a fuck.
I couldn’t think straight.
At first, I thought she was talking to an ugly woman on the street when she came out of the medical school building and thought little of it, but when the old lady started following her, then I knew something was very wrong.
Everything happened so fast after that.
Gigi started running.
I jumped out of my car.
And then all I saw was a white haze.
Rage blinded me as I pounded Jake’s head into the sidewalk and when it was over, I couldn’t believe that Gigi saw me with a murderous look on my face and his blood dripping from my hands.
All the work I did in Miami with Aunt Kat and in counseling didn’t mean a thing. It was all for naught. Because Gigi saw the real monster in me, the one I try desperately to contain, and I just knew my fate had been sealed. We would never be able to make our way back to each other.
“Stop looking at that damn phone,” Dad orders.
I can’t stop looking. The fact that she’s even asking how I am gives me a false sense of hope. Maybe she doesn’t hate the monster.
“I’ve got a client call in ten minutes,” Dad says. “Hopefully you’ll still be alive and breathing when I’m done.”
The next phase of my lesson (also known as punishment part two)… explaining this to Uncle Cam.
“Are you ready to talk to your uncle?” My mother asks, lifting my bandaged hands for inspection.
“Yeah.”
Nope.
“When’s the last time you cleaned these?” she asks.
“An hour ago.”
“This feels like old times. I used to take care of your hands for you when you got into scuffles back in high school.”
