Parker stops abruptly. A key ring jingles as he fishes in his pocket, bicep flexing against my ribs.
“Ugh,” he groans, shaking the keys. “I keep forgetting.”
“You can’t keep two girls here, my love,” Meredith nervously giggles. She’s trying to lay down house rules but is clearly scared to upset him.
Two?
My head nearly clips a wall when Parker spins on his heel to face her, and I brace for the impact, but it never comes. I’m too limp to flinch anyway. Even imagining fighting back makes the pain in my skull radiate.
“I can do whatever I want,” Parker says, voice slick with dominance, even amusement. “Because you know you’re one call away from prison… after what you did to your pathetic, drunk boyfriend.”
He is darkly conniving. If I could comfortably roll my eyes, I would.
“Youhelped me kill Cale,” Meredith blurts, voice wobbling. “You showed me what to do with the pills. From your… experience.”
Parker laughs low in his throat, unthreatened. “You still gave them to him. Because you didn’t want to leave him, did you? You wanted him todie.”
A tear spills down my temple, fuzzing my vision again as I stare at Parker’s back. I feel like a rag doll, boneless, floating above my own body.
“I was trying to protect you,” she says. “After he found out what you did to Madison—”
“Don’t,” Parker demands, cutting her off. “Don’t you blame me for your stupidity.” He growls under his breath, turning around. “Now help me with this damned door before she wakes up. I can’t have Amelia crawling back to Imogen and blowing up my plan.”
I hear Meredith fumble with a latch, Parker’s keys returning to his pocket.
“Didn’t you order a new padlock for this door?” she asks, gentle now.
“I did. It never showed up,” he says. “I’ll pick one up myself—since you’re too useless to do it.”
“You told me to stay hidden. I don’t have a new identity like you do,Cale.” The false name trembles on her tongue.
Parker exhales through his nose. “I make the money. I run the errands. I keep this place from collapsing. You? You’d be nothing without me.”
“And who rented us this house?” Meredith quips back. “Me. My money. So, please. Show me some respect.”
“Your money was Dad’s money. And it’s running out. So I’ll keep going to work while you rot in this house,” he says angrily, Meredith still fiddling with the door.
A metal hinge groans. A door swings open behind my back.
“Before I forget,” Parker says, maybe to himself. Then his left hand slithers into my pocket.
It’s not hurried, his fingers pushing into the cotton lining of my corduroy pants, lagging along the curve of my hip. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I’m sickened despite the barrier of fabric. He hums quietly through his teeth, seemingly at my lack of fight.
His mouth clicks in satisfaction when he finds my car keys.
“She won’t be needing these anymore,” he whispers, letting his fingers graze my thigh as he pulls away. “Move her car off the street tonight.”
My ribs slam with each step Parker takes down a cement staircase, his shoulder bouncing into my gut with each drop. I count eight punches, eight steps. There is a clear shift in ambiance as we enter a basement, the air damp and stuffy. There’s a chill. The energy shift is bizarre. The lighting is dim, but I can’t yet see the source, still dizzily staring at the dirty cement ground. Then, carpet.
Parker puts me down, propping my back against a cold wall. My eyes remain locked shut, afraid of what he’ll do if he knows I’m conscious.
Footsteps fade up the staircase, the door hitches closed, and I open my eyes and grab my head, rubbing the sore spot as if it’ll help.
Scanning the room, I see something. Another person.
My right hand flies to my mouth, muffling the scream that scurries out of my throat. I forget about my throbbing head altogether when I identify the person lying in the cellar.
She’s perfectly still, draped across an olive-green velvet sofa like a discarded doll.
