None of these people deserves to live.
Knox and I do. For that, I have to hold still. Have to stay silent.
I need to?—
Pop.
The loud crack of Bronwyn’s shoulder dislocating ricochets off the basement walls.
Swallowing a scream is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
This is unlike anything I’ve seen in any textbook. This isn’t a picture. This isn’t happening to someone else.
This is real. Less than twenty feet away, my sister’s shoulder juts at an unnatural angle. Her mouth parts, but no noise comes out, only tears leaking from her eyes at a steady pace.
Jett whistles.
Reese cheers on the older man, “Eep! Yes, Grandpa, yes!”
My knees wobble, but before I can collapse, Knox shakes my head, snapping me out of it.
I’m thankful for his presence, his attention.
But fuck, do I hate his family.
As soon as Grandpa steps away, Ma’s wooden heels click on the floor as she approaches the chair. Acid burns my stomach as she combs through Reese’s hair…
While shoving the lit sage right under Bronwyn’s nose.
“Have to purge the skin.” She joins her daughter, and they both whistle together. Smoke curls around Bronwyn’s face, suffocating her, when Ma adds, “Remember, Reese. Can’t leave any stress or pain in it. It sticks. Our customers won’t appreciate that.”
Then she winks at me, and my teeth sink into my inner cheek. Hard.
More blood floods my mouth.
Ma smirks, returning to Reese. “You asked to be the one to give her a final haircut, didn’t you, Sugarplum?”
“Yes, Ma!” The child’s eerie green eyes turn to me as she hurls the makeup brush to the floor. “Wanna help? You’re not gonna get another chance to love her.”
“Get it over with, Reese,” Knox grumbles, shaking my head again. “We’ve got a feeding schedule to follow.”
“Okie!” she squeals.Snap, snap, snap, chunks of my sister’s hair flutter and fall, sticking to her sweaty breasts. “Oh, and Knox”—snap—“could I be there when your living-hide takes off her stitches? I wanna watch.”
Jesus, she’s more fucked up than I realized. Way more.
“You have this one.” Knox jerks his chin toward Bronwyn. His anger doesn’t slip into his voice, his actions. I feel it, nonetheless. “Play with her all you like.”
“Fiiiine.”
“Papa, you’re up next,” his wife encourages, her sage-free hand rubbing his back.
That’s all the invitation the sick fucker needs.
Six slow, heavy steps carry him to my sister’s other side, where Ma and Grandpa stand.
Reese’s face snaps up to him, adoration flashing in her eyes. She drops the scissors, and they clatter on the floor.
Papa kisses the top of her head, then straightens. My body revolts as he yanks Bronwyn’s upper lip higher and brings the pliers close to her drooling mouth.
