A good night's sleep is best for both of us. She needs rest, and I need to cool off.
"If that's what you think is best, Sarah, I'll take you home, and if you don't mind, I'd like to meet your mother and this Dade guy. I just want to make sure you're safe. For now, get some rest. The bed is yours, and I'll take the couch. Have a good night, Sarah."
"Thank you, Father. I'd like that. I truly appreciate this, all of it. Good night," she says as she stands and walks slowly past me. She reaches out an arm and tickles her fingers on the top of my head, then smooths down my hair. Again.
“All dry now, thankfully.” Smiling down at me more with her eyes than her mouth, she steps away, effortlessly, almost floating. “Good night, Father Michael. Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Sarah, yes, sweet dreams for us all.” I close my eyes and imagine her head resting on my pillow as her beautiful eyes close and her hand drifts down between her legs. I run my flattened tongue across her nipple, sucking it hard. I slide my own hand into my pants and wrap a firm grip around my raging, hard cock.
Pumping slowly.
3
SARAH
The street is still wet, shimmering with puddles of morning light, as Father Michael slowly pulls into our narrow driveway. Nothing looks different from yesterday. My heart’s pounding so hard I think I might throw up. The tremors in my hands have nothing to do with the mug of strong coffee I downed before Father Michael offered to take me home.
Maybe I can talk some sense into Ma before Dade does something irreversible, and we can stop this stupid cycle.
I step out into the chill with a quick goodbye to Father Michael. We agree to hold off on him meeting Ma and Dade until things simmer down from last night. He reluctantly waits for me to duck under the sagging porch awning to let myself in. The rumble of his car leaves me feeling so alone.
Dried blood smears the wall in a perfect arc just above the thermostat. It’s dark, almost brown now. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge, and I move toward it, soft on my feet.
Ma's sitting at the table in one of Dade’s old t-shirts. The raw exhaustion on her face makes her look a decade older, but she’s oddly peaceful, like she’s just returned from some spa rather than a domestic war zone.
“Hey, Ma,” I say. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. “How’s Dade?”
She glances up, wary. “They gave him six stitches at County. He’ll be fine.”
There’s an undertone, a bristle I recognize from years of her trying to sound impartial about Dade. “You really whacked him, Sarah.”
My insides go hollow. “What was I supposed to do?”
She looks at me, and for a moment there’s a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. But it flickers out almost immediately.
I can’t help myself.
The words spill out, “We had a plan, Ma. We talked about this for weeks. You said the chicken coupon was our code. If I brought it up, you’d be ready to get out. That was the whole point.”
She glances away, “Plans change, and you took so long, likeforeveranswering my call that I thought you were backing out.”
For a second, I think about how I could have caught pneumonia out there, racing to safety just to make sure our plan worked.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
She meets my eyes, her mouth set in a soft, pleading smile. “Just…let it go. It's for the best you didn't pick up. It gave metime to think. I know it's hard to believe him, but he's going to be better. He swears. I feel like last night changed things.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just about you, Ma. He’ll do it again. Maybe next time he’ll kill you.”
She sets her mug down so hard that it sloshes coffee onto the table. “You’re being cruel, Sarah. He’s not a monster.”
I can feel myself shutting down, sealing the hurt away behind a wall of numbness.
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t get involved again.”
I look at her, really look, and realize the plan was never real to her. It was always just a fantasy, a brief flicker of hope that she’d abandon as soon as Dade said sorry. I feel stupid for ever believing she’d leave.
After a few minutes, there's the unmistakable creak of Dade’s boots on the hallway floor. My breath catches. I try to make myself small, invisible, but it doesn’t work. Dade has a built-in radar for things that piss him off, and I’m number one.
