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“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you came back in the house to look for us.”
“You’re an ungrateful little bitch. That’s what I’ll tell you.” He lunged for me, but I backpedaled toward the kitchen.
He grimaced at the bottle of liquor Clint and I had left on the coffee table, then picked it up and eyed the label. Without a second thought, he took a long swig straight from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “All it takes is a little booze for you to put out, huh?”
“Don’t change the subject.” My teeth were clenched and almost all the buzzing effect of the alcohol felt like it was burning off me in waves. “Did you or did you not come in the house for us?”
He swiped his hand as if he could knock the accusation away. “You know what happened to that fucking ‘hero’ your mom was always so enamored with next door when he went in there? He roasted. I could hear his screams from the front lawn. I could smell him. That’s what being a hero got him. Fucking burnt barbecue.”
I sucked in a few rapid breaths, then grabbed a plate from the countertop. I hurled it at my dad. He tried to duck it but was too slow. It clipped the top of his head and bounced to shatter to the ground.
He fell to one knee, pressing his hand there without taking his hateful eyes away from me. “I’m done with you.”
“Good,” I snapped. “Because maybe you’ll realize how pathetic you’ve become when I’m not here to wipe your ass.”
He sneered. “Get the fuck out of my house. Hell, I’m lucky you haven’t burned this place down and killed me, too.”
I grabbed my book bag, not caring about the clothes in my room or anything else. I snagged a coat by the door and walked outside, knowing I was going to do everything in my power to never step foot in his house again.15CassianThere was a soft, almost frightened knock at my bedroom door. I was lounging on my bed with my phone and music playing quietly in one ear.
I waited, then saw my mom poke her head in. “Hey, sweetie. Can I come in?”
I may have lost most of the respect I had for my mom when she decided to marry Walter a couple years back, but I knew my dad would’ve hated to see me be a dick to her. So I swallowed the usual anger I felt at the sight of her and nodded. “Yeah.”
She sat on the edge of my bed and smiled. “I don’t talk about your father much anymore because it… hurts to think about. But,” she cleared her throat, then took a shaky breath. “Walter heard through his connections with the police that the girl—the one from the fire—was picked up wandering through the cold. It turns out her father lost his job, and he’s only a few steps from losing his house, too.”
I tried not to let my interest show. Yeah, I’d wanted to watch Charli’s life go up in flames, but something about what I was hearing didn’t feel as sweet as I’d imagined. It felt bitter. “And?” I asked, trying to sound bored.
“And if she goes back there, they said it has child protective services written all over it. But she’s only a few months from graduating. Then she could maybe have a shot at figuring things out on her own. After everything that happened, and after the sacrifice your father made… Well, we’re going to let her stay with us until she graduates. Longer, if she needs it.”
My throat went dry. We’re what?
“Anything else?” I asked.
She smiled tightly, then squeezed my leg. “I just wanted to tell you. I thought you might be excited. I know you two were thick as thieves when you were younger.”
“Yeah, we were.”
My mom got up and left.
I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, slowly picking apart what she’d just told me and examining every detail.
Charli was going to live in my house.
Under our roof.
I ran through the logistics of which room she’d be in and realized it would make the most sense to put her down the hall from me. The two of us would be alone on this side of the house. She’d be trapped with me in a gilded cage.
A grin slowly spread across my face.
I can’t wait to introduce you to my very own, personal hell, Charli.16CharliI used to always have this recurring dream where I was getting pulled toward a closet full of fire. I could never see who gripped me with such strong hands, but it never mattered how hard I fought. It always ended as I watched my feet dragging on the pavement until one of my shoes fell off. Then the hands would spin me around and toss me into the flames with one final, great heave.
