Page 2 of House of Horrors

I will not let my stepsister destroy me, which is why I must stay away at all costs.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, annoyance flaring, and exhale loudly. My fingers itch for another cigarette, stress rising at the thought of having to be near her. I’ve been waiting for this night all year, and now my stepsister has the power to ruin my plans.

My mouth acts before I have the chance to think about what I’m saying.

“Firstly, she’s not even my fucking sister⁠—”

Crack.

I don’t see Jerry’s fist until it’s striking me in the eye.

“Fuck,” I grunt out. Debbie gasps. I cover my face, groaning from the impact. My eye throbs, and I know it’s going to be a shiner by morning. Even with punching down, Jerry got me good. He’s had years of practice, after all.

Bastard. Cocksucker. Motherfucker.

“Don’t you dare say shit like that! You will not disrespect me. I gave you an order, and you will follow it. Understand?” He steps further into my space, spit spraying from his mouth while the vein on the side of his neck hammers furiously.

My eyes lower. I must obey, or Jerry will get worse. Much worse.

“Yes, Sir.”

He huffs like an angry animal but takes a step back. Something loosens in my shoulders knowing the immediate threat is gone, but I’m not truly safe until he leaves.

This is all Daisy’s fault. I hate her.

My mood sours further with thoughts of my evil stepsister and needing to placate my father, my back bent unwillingly into submission. My heated glare follows Jerry as he leaves my room.

Once they’re on the stairs and I’m safely out of sight, I flip Jerry off, the metal rings on each of my fingers clanging together.

“Cunt,” I hiss with shaky breath. The last thing I need is Jerry hearing me. I get to my feet, kicking the nearest of the music magazines strewn on the floor and watching it fly across the room.

My hands scrub through my black hair, and I tilt my head up, staring at the slanted ceiling.

“Fuuuck,” I groan. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t want to skip Halloween, but I won’t disobey my dad and risk another beating. So, I have no choice. We’ll go to Nicky’s house for drinks and then out on the town. Together.

This is bad. This is everything I’ve been trying to avoid. The thought of her presses into my mind like a disease. But I shove it aside and walk around a stack of records to get to my dresser. Picking up my eyeliner, I press it harder than I should, the line dark and uneven, then smear it with my finger until it blurs into something messier. A minute ago, I couldn’t breathe. Yet when I meet my gaze in the mirror, chaos staring back, my lips fall into a smirk. My shoulders straighten, something inside me clicking back into place.

The neighborhood biddies used to say I worship the devil because I prefer to wear dark clothing. They went silent the first time they saw the split in my tongue that I got one night in a shady basement. That's probably for the best, because little do they know, I do.

The upside-down cross hanging below my collarbone catches my eye, and I adjust it to sit neatly with my other chains. I throw on the black leather jacket left on my unmade bed to complete the look. Beneath it, my band tee shows the rough, jagged path of my pocketknife. I’d sliced the bottom half off, and now the frayed hem rests a few inches above my studded belt, revealing a strip of my stomach. I’m pleased to see my shaggy hair has grown long enough to reach my shoulders. Hell yeah.

My split tongue flicks out and I shift to the side, checking out my ass in my ripped denim jeans. If I’m not drunk by the end of the night, getting laid will be my main goal. Whether it’s a guy or a girl doesn’t matter. I’m not picky. And if they want to be the dominant one for the night…Well, I’m more than happy to switch. Either way, my cock is going to get blown, and my next meal will be a nice, juicy ass.

It’s time to rock and roll.

I don’t bother to be quiet. I stomp down the stairs, chains clashing against each other. My stepsister keeps her room shut, but I hear her crappy, girly, pop music. The sound crawls under my skin. Fuck, everything about her is annoying. I bang the toecap of my boot against her door. Once. Twice. Hard enough to make it shake, and I glare at the wood like it owes me something.

“Hurry up, Daisy, or I’m fucking leaving without you. Five minutes!” The words leave a sour taste in my mouth as my lips curl around them. But at least I was loud enough for Jerry to hear. Now he can’t say I didn’t try. I roll my eyes before turning around to make my way down the hallway and out of the house.

I don’t bother saying goodbye to Jerry or Debbie. They don’t really care about me unless they need something, which is fine. I don’t need them either.

The door slams behind me. “Don’t slam the goddamn door!” Jerry shouts while I walk down the path.

“Fuck off, Jerry,” I mutter under my breath before I curse again. “Fuck.” My hands dig frantically through my pockets, and I sigh in relief when I hit the familiar box. Thank God. At least I won’t have to go all the way back in.

I pull it out before sliding a smoke between my lips and shoving the rest of my stash back into my pocket. I pull a lighter out next, thumb striking against the metal as I light up. I take a drag, and savor the burn. The tightness in my chest loosens, my shoulders following as my breathing steadies.

While I wait for Daisy, I walk around the side of the house to lean against the bricks, left foot pressed against the wall.