“Fuck,” he groans, his features going slack with pleasure. “Milk every last drop.”
A split second later, he drops down boneless beside me. I take a measured breath and ask the question weighing heavily on my mind.
“Do you still hate me?” He allowed me to call him Sam. Maybe he doesn’t hate me as much anymore. Maybe we can be a semi-normal family.
Without so much as a glance, he storms into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.
Where is he?
He’s been gone for hours. After showering, he left without saying a single word to me. I knew there was a possibility my question would set him off, but I needed to know. Guess I have my answer.
I don’t know why I needed to know when I’m unsure of my own feelings. I still fear him. Always will. But I’m starting to crave his touch more and more. When he’s inside me, I forget he’s a monster, at least for a little while.
God, my life is a soap opera. I have a psycho baby daddy, and my mother is pregnant by her sister’s husband. No point dwelling on either situation now. What’s done is done.
I already love my daughters and sister unconditionally. They are my life now, and I would gladly die for them. My sister will not have the same fucked up childhood I had. I will protect her from our mother at all costs. Speaking of the woman who birthed me, it’s about time we had that talk.
Sighing, I push away from the island and slide off the stool onto swollen feet. With my empty bowl and glass in hand, I pad over to the dishwasher and deposit both inside. Dinner wasn’t exactly a gourmet meal, but the ramen noodles and boiled eggs feel good in my stomach.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” I coo at my adopted fur babies, giving both a pat on the head. We had a rough start, but now they’re my shadows.
Due to my extended belly, it takes longer than usual to reach the second floor. I linger at the landing for a few minutes to catch my breath.
“Stairs can go kick rocks,” I mumble before trudging on.
As I approach my mother’s bedroom, her condescending voice slices through the quiet. “No, I am not going to write a character letter for him. Let him rot,” she says with a bitter laugh. “And tell him I want a divorce!”
I clasp a hand over my mouth in shock.Daddy?
“Oh, and let him know that he is not the father of my children,” she boasts proudly.
My heart leaps into my throat.No. No. No. She’s lying.I slam the door open, the impact rattling the frame. My mother jumps, dropping the cell phone onto the bed.
“Tell me it isn’t true.” My voice shakes. “Tell me my father is my father.”
She clambers to her feet, holding her head high. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me!” I scream, tears streaming down my face. “You lied to me my whole life! Who is he? Who is my real father?” The truth hits like a punch to the gut. “Nolan and I… we have different dads, don’t we?”
We look nothing alike, but I never thought much of it—siblings don’t always resemble each other.
“It doesn’t matter,” she reiterates, shooting me a look that instilled fear in me as a child.
I’m going to be sick.
“You’re evil,” I hiss, every word laced with venom. “I want to speak to my father now.” I nod toward the bed. “Was that his lawyer?” I spring across the room, intent on getting my hands on that cell phone, but my mother beats me to it.
“Don’t you dare,” she snarls, holding the device behind her back.
“Give it to me!”
I try to reach around her, but she shoves me back.
“I hate you!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “Keith figured out what a heartless person you are and couldn’t get away from you fast enough!”
“Ungrateful bitch!” she screeches, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking hard. “Your father was and still is a spineless, weak little man who couldn’t give me children! If I hadn’t found myself a real man, you wouldn’t exist!”
I pry her fingers from my braids and fling her away from me. “You’re pathetic. No education. No job. No future. Who’s going to want you now?”
