Without warning, probably catching Keira completely off guard, I sink my fingers into her curls, wrenching her head back. Then I press my lips to hers. Her body shakes, and a cry of pain escapes her, filling my mouth.
I kiss her hard, bruising her lips, making certain my brother sees the ownership I have over her. When I release Keira, she wobbles, and the need to pull her close overwhelms me—but I’m not dumb enough to make such a grave mistake.
We ascend the steps together, and when we reach the top, I stand man to man with my brother.
He has a satisfied grin on his face. His eyes are dark, the color of coffee mixed with a dash of darkness like mine—hell, looking at him is like staring at my reflectionin the mirror. He’s only older by a few years, and his age doesn’t show. He looks the same…right down to the monster flickering deep in his eyes.
I watch those monstrous eyes move from me to Keira.
“I like the way you dressed up your doll today. She’s beautiful.”
“She is—and she’s mine,” I sneer. “By the way, I enjoy placing bruises of my own on my property, so the next time you decide to touch something that isn’t yours, you’ll return it the way you found it.”
Xander’s eyes ghost over Keira’s throat. “I’m sorry, little brother. I didn’t mean your pet any harm. She is a fragile little thing. Her skin bruises with barely any force I see.” He snickers. “However, we shall predict her future this evening and see who she truly belongs to. Until then, you can keep her at your side.”
The smile on his face makes my stomach turn. Life and death are nothing but a game to him. He doesn’t care who lives or dies. He only cares about making an example of someone.
Xander strolls into the house through the huge, wrought iron door. Like everything else here, this door holds nothing but bad memories. I should be thankful it holds the memories inside the house and not outside them. God forbid I let them control every single aspect of my life.
As I walk up the steps, my heart sinks. A memory slams into me so hard, it steals the breath from my lungs.
I can’t believe she’s dead. I stare down at my hands. She’s gone. That’s what Father said, but I don’t believe him. She was fine this morning—happy, smiling, and now, I’ll never see her again. The thought hurts. My father told me not to cry for her, and I’m doing my very best, but my eyes are burning with unshed tears.
They are going to spill over soon, proving again how weak I am to my father.
I clench my tiny hands into fists
I better go outside so Father won’t see me. I run down the stairs. I think he’s in the study. I can’t pass him by accident.
My hand is on the brass door knob when I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
No, no, no! Treacherous tears run down my face, staining my cheeks. I try to wipe them away, but it’s already too late.
“Where do you think you are going?” my father’s voice booms, igniting fear deep in my belly. I hate my father...I know this to be true.
“Just outside,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. Maybe if I make myself seem less conspicuous, he will ignore me.
I pull the door open and sprint outside…or try to. My father’s hand is already on my neck, jerking me backward before I can take a second step.
He twists my body around so he can look down at me. His grip is harsh, and I try to stop from shaking.
“Are you fucking crying?” His eyes are daggers glaring down at me, and his fingers dig into my arms with bruising force. “And now you are trying to run from me with the proof of your indiscretion staining your cheeks?”
I don’t get a chance to answer—not like there’s anything I could say to make thisbetter. I’ve learned to take the beatings and lick your wounds when done. The less fear you show, the less he beats you. That’s what Xander tells me.
My father’s fist hits my jaw, causing my head to snap to the side. I would have fallen to the floor if he didn’t have an iron grip on my arm. Three or four hits follow…I lose count. If he let me go right now, I’d stay down on the floor. I’d give in, letting him win.
I’m halfway passed out, the pain overtaking me, when he shakes me awake.
“Don’t you fucking pass out, you little shit. I’m not done teaching you a lesson. You take your fucking beating and learn something from it. Clearly, I need to teach you in other ways.” His heated breath fans my face, smelling of whiskey. Has he been drinking? He beats us so much when he drinks.
He yanks me to the side and places my hand between the door frame and the heavy iron door. “You want a real reason to cry, then I’m going to give you one.” I shake my head and try to pull my hand away, but he is so much stronger than I am.
He always is.
He swings the door open, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to crush my hand. Then I hear heavy footfalls and open my eyes.
“No!” Xander cries, and my father releases my hand. I watch with wide eyes as Xander tries to tackle him. Xander is only fourteen, but he’s big for his age, and my father can’t push him around like he used to. But Xander isn’t big enough to overtake father yet, so instead of proving a point to Father, he ends up below him, our father’s huge body crushing his.
