Miles doesn't answer, grabbing a fire poker and bounding up the stairs. He swings it as he goes, putting holes in the drywall and tearing through framed canvas paintings.
After watching him disappear into the first bedroom, I drop my purse on the living room floor and follow, stepping into the room just as he destroys another television and laptop computer.
"Come on, Saige." He swings the fire poker in my direction, laughing when I scream and shield myself with my hands, and stops just centimeters from my head. "Take it," he says. "You know you want to. You know he fucking deserves it."
I can't argue with that—I don't know what he did to Miles, but I bet hedoesfucking deserve it. Still, I want no part in this; I just want to get the fuck out of here before Elias catches me.
"But this isn't even his room."
"How do you know?"
I shrug, taking in the surrounding space while tightly clutching the fire poker. "It doesn't look like him. Elias's room at home is a shrine to himself." This room is plain; the walls are bare, and a large saltwater fish tank sits against the wall opposite the desk. Aside from that, there are no personal items at all. "He wouldn't take care of a fish tank like that, either. This is Nolan's room."
Miles shrugs. "Oh, well."
I jump back when he takes off, getting a running start before slamming his body into the fish tank. It wobbles, and he continues pushing until the whole thing topples over the stand, shattering on the floor.
Water soaks my shoes and legs. My jaw drops, and I stand there, frozen with shock, tears stinging my eyes as I watch the fish flop around on the wet carpet, suffocating.
They're dying. And there's nothing I can do.
Smiling, Miles struts toward the door, crushing one under his boot.
I think I'm going to be sick.
"Let's go find your brother's room."
When I step into the hallway, I don't see him. I'm just about to run down the stairs and out the door when he stops me, casually swinging the fire poker. "Hey, where do you think you're going? What about this one?"
I hold my breath and turn into the next room.
"No," I tell him, noting the extensive record collection and easel in the back corner of the room. I do my best to keep my voice steady, hoping that if he doesn't notice how terrified I am, he won't capitalize on it. "This is Dax's room. He likes to think he's this artsy free-thinker, but he's just another rich, pretentious douchebag."
"Well, fuck him, too."
He gives Dax's bedroom the same treatment, starting with the canvas, and I silently slip out the door.
I make it halfway down the staircase before he comes out of the room. "Hey! Get back here!"
"You're fucking insane!" I shout, comfortable with the space between us now. "I'm getting the fuck out of here."
I hear footsteps behind me on the stairs, but I'm already unlocking the front door. I'm fucking done with this.
But then I hear barking. Arcadia must have recognized my voice, because she starts going crazy inside that last bedroom. I forgot she would be here.
No.
"Does he have a dog?"
I freeze; my face falls, a sinister smile crossing his own before he turns toward the bedroom.
"No!" I take the stairs two at a time. "Miles, stop!"
When I get to the bedroom, Arcadia is backed into a corner, baring her teeth.
"Please!" I cry, quickly putting myself between them as Miles brings the fire poker over his head.
"Move!" he shouts.
