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As we walk back down the hallway, it occurs to me that Lyr and I discussed nothing past this point. No final plan, no code word. Nothing like we said we were going to do. She’s been so unpredictable since we got here. My cock jerks at the thought of what she’ll do next.

CHAPTER 39

LYRIC

My mother and I stare at each other from opposite sides of the room. This makes me uneasy, and I know she can sense it. Sliding down the wall next to the air conditioner, I sit on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. I wish Attie would hurry back already. Without him, I don’t feel nearly as strong, confident, or in control.

My mother breaks the silence. “Why am I still here?” she asks anxiously, rubbing her hands together.

I don’t know why she thinks I have the answers when I’m clearly still stuck here myself.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. You are no longer my problem.”

“Your problem?” she sneers as she takes offense.

“Yes, Mother. You were a problem, and I eliminated it. We’re done here. I’m not interested in what happens to you now. Just stay the hell away from me.”

“You know, Lyric, you always were such a selfish little bitch,” she spits.

This accusation—or observation, however you want to look at it—isn’t new. Apparently, wanting to protect myself was the equivalent of a crime.

“No, Mother, I wasn’t. I did what I needed to do to survive. If that makes me selfish, so be it.”

She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. No sooner does our bickering end than Cash and Attie enter the room. The moment I see a brown streak across Cash’s forehead is when I lose it entirely. I burst into laughter as I attempt to heave myself off the floor, and I almost keel over. This is too good.

“What are you laughing at?” Cash asks with a scornful expression.

“Nothing. It just looks like you’re having a really shitty day,” I cackle.

He lunges at me, and Attie yanks him backward, almost pulling him to the ground.

“Did I tell you to move? Don’t fucking touch her. You will never get the luxury of doing so again. Got it?”

Cash attempts to shrug Attie off, and Attie tightens his grip on Cash’s shirt, keeping him in place. Cash whirls around and spits in Attie’s face. The wad flies right through him, and Attie pushes Cash to the ground, forcing him to his knees. Attie begins undoing his jeans.

“What are you doing?” Cash asks nervously.

“I’m gonna make you choke on this ghost dick if you don’t put a cork in it anytime soon.”

Cash’s eyes grow wide, and he gulps. He nods and makes a zipping gesture to his lips.

“Good choice,” Attie says as he fastens his jeans.

Attie leaves Cash on the floor and approaches me.

He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Tell me what you want.”

I blush at the phrase and the husky tone in which he says it.

I swallow harshly, my mouth feeling dry. “I—I don’t know.” I whisper back. “Can we talk outside?”

He nods and then looks at Cash.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs.

Cash shakes his head aggressively.

“I absolutely will not! You want me to sit next to my dead wife? You two really are a couple of sickos, aren’t you?”