Page 112 of Chaos & Ruin

The President promised that if he can't have my mother, he will have me.

The thought of him turns my stomach. He disgusts me.

Footsteps slide closer down the hall. The door opens, and he comes inside. His long hair is twisted into a bun on top of his head. His shoulders bunch under his crossed arms like he is holding himself back.

“Ready to talk, Sunshine?” he says.

I'm not a Sunshine. I have been more like a storm cloud since the day I came here.

He steps in and kneels. The chain at my wrists scrapes as he pulls me forward. His face comes close. His brown eyes lock onto mine. And he waits for something to break in me.

But I don't give him that satisfaction, and I spit in his face.

He rocks back, then laughs.

“Fine,” he says, his voice dropping. “Then I will fuck it out of you.”

His hand closes around my throat. His other hand goes to his jeans.

The wordnomeans nothing here. It falls out of my mouth and disappears before it hits the floor.

The TV clicks on somewhere behind us. A woman’s voice cuts through as someone turns the volume up.

“Today around noon, Judas Harrington escaped from police custody. We believe he is armed and dangerous. Police ask the public to remain alert and report any sightings. He is a cold-blooded killer who will kill again if given the chance.”

A laugh tears out of my chest. My eyes move up, and I look at the President.

He turns his head toward the door and mutters, “Shit.”

My feet start tapping against the mattress. My head sways up and down as my back slams against the wall.

“One, two,” I sing. “He is coming for you.”

He yanks my chains and drags me closer. My shoulder slams into his knee.

I won't stop.

“One, two,” I whisper now. “He is going to kill you.”

His fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing my face up. I grin at him, blood already warming my mouth.

“Three, four,” I say. “Your head will hang at the front door.”

His fist comes down as he hits my face. The room flashes in front of me. My nose splits, and the taste of blood floods my tongue.

I laugh through it.

Judas is coming for me, and God help anyone who stands in his way.

The President stands and turns away.

I curl back into the mattress and start to hum. The same tune Catherine used to sing comes out of me.

“Dream a little dream of me…”

To be continued...