Managing short, shallow breaths, I wish for the floor to open up and swallow me whole, or for him to tighten his grip and get it over with at this point; anything so that I can escape this living hell. I’ve known what kind of man my father is for a long time now and would have left years ago if I’d had the means. But knowing what he’s capable of? Of how far he went to hunt Mom down when she tried to run? No, I’m only going to get one shot at this, so it has to be perfect.
He backhands me so hard that I temporarily black out. One second I’m standing there, choking on his stale breath, and the next I’m at the base of the stairs, head swimming. His retreating footsteps let me know it’s been at least a few minutes, enough for him to grow bored of waiting for me to wake up.
Rolling to my knees, my stomach roils with nausea. A pained whimper slips out and all breath seizes in my chest, ears ringing as I wait in paralyzed fear to see if he heard me. When another minute passes and he doesn’t resurface, I start dragging myself up the steps to my room, careful of each loose floorboard.
Every additional stair threatens to push me past my limit as my side screams, the world unsteady and lurching beneath me. I stay on my hands and knees, using my grip on each weathered step to keep from tumbling back down.
Finally making it to my illusion of a safe haven, I gently shut the door behind me, using the handle to pull myself to my feet. Keeping a hand on the wall to steady me, I push through the pain to shove my ancient dresser in front of the door, frantically hurrying in case the noise draws him back. Breathing labored, I amble towards my end table, but the half-empty water bottle will barely make a dent in cleaning myself up. At this point, only a shower will be able to make sense of the tangled, sticky mess of blood matting my long, blonde hair to my skull.
Wincing with each step, I fall into bed with a sharp hiss of pain. I’m left licking my wounds, alone with my thoughts and hating every single person in the vicinity that chooses to turn a blind eye. They left me with no choice but to spend the better part of recent years stealing their spare change to hoard for my potential escape, and fuck, did I have to sacrifice far too much to get access. So close, so goddamn close, and now all that’s left is a sea of hopelessness crashing over me.
I should have just taken the pervy jackass up on his offer. Lord knows, I’ve done worse for less, but maybe he could have gotten me a few towns over, first.
Even if I’m doomed to fail without a dime to my name, I’m going to have to try to run at this point. As soon as Icanrun again, because hell, it’s going to be hard enough living on the streets in the first place without broadcasting that I’m an easy target. Once I start running, I won’t be able to stop until I’m half a world away or dead. Because if he catches me?
Mom’s screams echo through my mind, a haunting reminder that there are many fates worse than death.
The door of my SUV slams shut behind me as I look around with distaste. This place is in the middle of fucking nowhere and I can’t see what use Julian could have for the patch of dirt beyond having somewhere to ditch a body. Still, a point has to be made.
Each step I take onto the porch, I wonder if I’m about to fall through the rotted wood, and by the time I’m pounding on the front door, I’m in a worse mood than I woke up in. I’d had every intention of dragging this out, to take my sweet time sending a message, but now I’m on the verge of simply killing him so I can do literally anything else with my day.
“Fuckin’ hell,” a low voice growls from inside. “Quit your bangin’, I’m coming.”
The door’s roughly yanked open and Thomas Miller’s bleary face stares back at me. Just in the last year since I saw the ugly bastard he’s changed, and certainly not for the better.
“Really letting yourself go, aren’t you Tommy boy?” I cluck my tongue, darting out a palm to stop the door from being slammed in my face.
Thomas’ eyes go wide with fear, all of his previous bravado lodging in his throat with a hard swallow. “I just need till the end of the week,” he begs.
They always beg.
Yet today I’m just not feeling it, the little spark of terror not doing anything for me. It’s the same old song and dance, time and time again in a monotonous repetition. The ticking of a clock, and each hand grows wearier with every passing.
So maybe it’s time to shake things up.
A small smirk plays at my lips, ideas starting to take shape and turning my sour mood around as quickly as it came. It’s always broken legs or fingers, a few threats, rinse, repeat. I wantmore.I want to actually feel something for once, and maybe this son of a bitch is a blessing in a hideous disguise.
Unaware of my internal conundrum, he continues to blather on, digging his grave deeper with his incessant chatter. Without warning, I throw a punch, catching him in the cheek and sending him reeling. There’s a table just inside of the entryway that’s already broken, coins and debris scattered around the hovel. I pick up one of the splintered legs, testing the weight in my hand.
“Now, Thomas, I think we both know there’s no point asking for more time. You already used up your one mercy months ago, and, well-” I press the splintered end into his throat before tilting his jaw up to face me, blood trickling down his split lip as he stands there with fear in his dark, dull eyes “-you’re a filthy liar. I’d say you were dumb to bet your property and lose, but-” glancing around in disgust, I grimace. “You might be getting the better deal here, pawning this shithole off on the boss.”
He grabs my makeshift bat, trying to jerk it away from me. Rolling my eyes, I let go and he stumbles back, expecting resistance. My gun is out a split second later and I fire a shot into his knee cap, the man going down with a howl of pain. He clutches it, cursing up a storm as I crouch down and rest my elbows on my knees. Keeping my gun in his line of sight, I frown at the dried blood mixed into the debris around us, wondering just what the hell Tommy boy’s been doing in his downtime.
“See? Greedy. You try to take anything that isn’t nailed down.” I shake my head in disappointment, using my gun to gesture to the forgotten piece of wood. “So are you going to be good and go get the deed, or are we doing this the hard way? I, for one, am a big fan of the hard way.” I fire another shot into his thigh just for the hell of it, ignoring his shouts. “Shh, I’m still talking, don’t be rude. So, what’s it gonna be?”
His face is red and sweaty, tears gathered in his beady eyes. He clams up and I sigh loudly in annoyance. “Nowyou may speak.”
May as well feed him to the pigs and be done with it. Ooh, that’s not a bad idea, actually. Turn this into a pig farm; another business and an easier way to take care of the evidence. Fuck, no, then Julian will make me move out to this shithole permanently so I have room to work without prying eyes or ears. Nix that idea.
He doesn’t utter a word, so I reach over to pick up a few of the coins scattered on the floor. Using the barrel of my gun to push his hand aside, I slip a dime into the hole in his thigh, shoving it in with my thumb.
“Everybody’s got to pay to play, Tommy, and I do believe I’ve bought myself an answer.”
Biting his fist to muffle a scream, he pulls it away panting and hisses, “Get fucked, you psycho.”
Grabbing a penny, I ensure it’s heads up when I jam it in next. “I plan to. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s your lucky day, Thomas.” He simply glares at me and I frown, gesturing to his thigh. “Lucky penny? Oh come now, if you can’t find the humor in the small things, how have you survived living such a shitty life?”
There’s a creak behind me and I whirl around instantly with my gun drawn, face devoid of any trace of emotion by the time I’ve turned around. But the stoic look falls to one of annoyance when I see a flash of blonde hair rush out of the line of fire, a door slamming upstairs a few seconds later.
