I made it to the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes, and rotten food was still in it. I knew no one would wash it if I didn’t do it myself. But as I approached, movement caught my eye through the window.
There was a man in a white ski mask who circled the yard. He was tall, dressed in all black. The mask was the only thing that stood out.
He was looking for a way in.
I moved to the back door. My fingers found the lock and twisted it until it unlocked. I stepped away and returned to the sink like nothing had changed.
The door opened behind me.
A man came in and tilted his head as he came closer, holding a black hunting knife. His gloves were dark, marked with a shark symbol that flashed when the light hit them.
“Do it,” I whispered. “Kill me.”
My body betrayed me. I shook, but he didn’t do anything.
Instead of raising the knife, he reached out. His gloved fingers touched my chin and lifted my face. The bruises pulled tight under his hand. I flinched.
Justin’s voice cut through.
“Where is that little brat? Is she cooking?”
The man pressed a finger to my lips, shushing me.
He stepped back and leaned against the wall, waiting for him.
Justin came into the kitchen. The man dragged him down, and the knife flashed once, slicing his throat. Then again, making the blood spill across the floor.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
The man turned his head toward me. I couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, but I felt them on me anyway. I wanted to see them. I needed to.
I took a step.
My foot slid in the blood, and my head hit hard on the floor, making a white noise burst behind my eyes.
And I closed my eyes.
THIRTEEN
CARMEN
Sunlight pries my eyes open before I am even ready. It spills across my face in thin, blinding lines, and I squint, the room swimming as I try to remember where I am.
Then I hear Catherine’s voice, and the walls snap back into place.
I’m home.
“What happened?” I whisper. I push myself up, and hard pressure crashes through my skull, forcing me back down against the pillow.
Was it all a dream?
She steps closer to the bed.
“Judas,” she says. “Judas didn’t come home last night. Do you know where he is?”
“Judas?” The word slips out of me.
“He said he was going home,” she says. “But he’s not here. His phone is in his bedroom.”
