She sits up, crossing her arms over my shirt–myshirt–and I have to force myself to refocus on the sizzling butter instead of the way the fabric tugs across her chest.
“You know what I mean.”
I lift my eyes to her, slow and deliberate. “Watching you stomp around my apartment like an angry little demon?” My head tilts. “Yeah, doll. I’m having an excellent morning.”
“If I could find my shoes, I’d throw one at you.”
“If you could find your shoes you’d be halfway across the parking garage,” I fire back. “Which is exactly why you can’t.” I drop the bread onto the heated pan, and dip a new slice in the eggs.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters.
“That’s what I’m told.”
I finish cooking in silence and place her plate on the island across from me. She says nothing as she walks over to sit at one of the stools. The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air, and she inhales it deeply. Handing her a fork and bottle of syrup, she wastes no time digging in. I lean against the counter behind me, balancing my plate on one hand, fork in the other.
We eat in silence for a moment before I decide to see if she knows anything about her missing coworker. The guys haven’t come up with anything yet, and it’s a race against the clock. Every minute she’s gone, is another minute she’s closer to being lost forever.
“There’s a girl who works on the second floor of Rapture. Long, black hair. Probably about your height. She’s a bartender. Do you know anything about her?”Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth.
“Why?” she grits, but it’s weak.
I don't want to tell her the real reason I’m asking, or what I saw happen on those cameras. Not yet anyway. She deserves the truth but if I tell her anything now, she’ll raise hell at the club and it could compromise us ever finding the girl, or who took her.
I shrug but before I can answer, my phone goes off in my pocket. Pulling it out, Maverick’s name lights up the screen with an incoming call. I leave the kitchen and step out onto the balcony before I answer. From the inside of the apartment, I hear the dryer signal that it's done.
Looks like our breakfast is over.
After a quick two minute call, I slide open the balcony door to see Ashlynn’s plate still on the counter, and her bag missing from the floor. Shaking my head, I search the apartment and piece together that she found the laundry room. Her shoes are gone, the dryer’s empty and my shirt lays on top of the washing machine. I laugh to myself, then get ready to head down to the Pit.
I knew as soon as I had my back turned, she’d take off. And that’s okay. She can’t run forever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
Whoever saidsilence was peaceful lied. It’s a warning.
The voices downstairs come in muffled through the floorboards of my bedroom. I can’t make out the words, but based on the tone in their voices, I know they’re arguing. And it’s only going to get worse. It always gets worse. I quickly put on my pj’s then slowly push my drawers closed, knowing that if I make the slightest noise their attention will turn on me.
My foster parents hate each other, but not more than they hate any of us that live here. Sure, they keep a relatively cleanhome, but they don’t even try to hide the fact that they suck. The day I was brought here they were fighting so loudly you could hear it from the street. The social worker didn’t even flinch when the “dad” opened the door with a beer in his hand, swaying a little on his feet. Clearly drunk with a creepy grin plastered on his stupid face.
The system is so fucked. I’m here because I’m an unwanted orphan. The others are here because their birth parents were abusive, drug addicts, or both. But then there are some that shouldn't even be here. They have parents that they get to see sometimes–parents who love them, who fight so hard to get them back. I don't think the state cares that homes like this can be just as bad, if not worse than the ones we came from.
Some foster parents genuinely want to help the kids they take in. Ms. Thompson was one of those people. These people clearly see us as a paycheck and nothing more.
Tip toeing across the room to put my dirty clothes in the hamper, glass explodes from downstairs followed by something that sounds like furniture slamming before crashing through a wall. I jump, dropping my clothes on the hardwood floor. Leaving them I turn and rush to my bed as silently as I can. The mattress swallows me whole and I flip the covers over me. Closing my eyes, I pretend to be asleep in case he gets bored with beating his wife and decides to come upstairs. It wouldn't be the first time.
The murmured sounds of arguing turns into a screaming match and more glass shatters, followed by pained screams. Throwing my hands over my ears, I squeeze my eyes tighter and curl into a ball, and start humming. I don’t know the song or where the tune comes from, but it makes the yelling not so loud in my mind. The crescendo of screams only gets louder, making my hands and hums useless.
I’m not sure how long I stay like this, wishing for it to stop, when suddenly the floorboards creak and a weight dips at the foot of my mattress. Scrambling to sit up and scoot back against the wall, I fling the covers off of me.
“Breathe, Ashlynn. It’s just me,” a voice whispers, and I recognize it instantly.
Karson sits on the corner of the bed, looking feral with his unkempt hair, a black hoodie that’s started to become too small, and jeans that are ripped from the middle of his shins to the tops of his thighs. His gray eyes bounce back and forth between mine, and he gives me a soft smile.
Ever since that day that he kicked Billy’s ass a few months ago, we’ve been close. He kept the promise he made to me that day and has protected me, even when it meant the drunk asshole downstairs turns all his rage onto him. He stays by my side anywhere I go, and even though I don’t talk to him, he talks to me. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, at this point I think I’m just too nervous to let anyone get too close to me. He’s seventeen and will be tossed onto the streets in a year, and I’ll be alone again. I don’t think my heart can handle it when that happens.
I lose everyone.
