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“I wanna talk to my mother. I have questions that I need answered, and I think it’ll help me go home.” She drags on, “Maybe. I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I escort Cash in here?” I ask.

She shakes her head, and I leave the room on a mission. Cash has already passed out in his recliner, and a handful of empty beer cans sit on and under the table next to him. I go to the fridge and retrieve another one. I open the can on my way back to the chair and attempt to take a sip. The brownish liquid immediately falls to the floor and splashes up onto the crusty old furniture. Whoops.

I grimace. Not knowing what type of sleeper he is could’ve cost me, and not being able to taste it makes the situation even worse once I realize it wasn’t worth it. I hover above Cash and flip the can upside down. The beer coats his head, part of his shirt, and he wakes up in a panic.

“What the hell?” Cash surveys the room and begins to yell.

I can hear the confusion and anger in his tone.

“Kristine! Get your ass out here now!”

He pushes himself slowly out of the recliner and stumbles down the hall.

“Goddammit, Kristine. What the fuck is this? Is this payback for earlier? 'Cause if you thought that was bad, what I’m about to do to you is gonna be way worse.”

I follow him down the hall. When he enters the room, I squeeze by him and slam the door shut. I snap my fingers, and the knob falls off the door on both sides, locking us in.

“Thank you,” Lyr mouths as she stands next to her mother.

I nod. Cash’s eyes flicker to the door, around the room, and back to Kristine. He almost looks scared—maybe a little like he cares.

“Kristine?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

He staggers over to her and touches the rope as if he’s reminiscing. He shrugs, and I take a stance at the end of the bed while he undoes his pants and pushes them to his ankles. Cash climbs onto the bed before crawling up Kristine’s body.

“Lyr?” I call, uncertainty creeping into my tone.

I wait for her to meet my gaze. Before Cash is able to push himself inside her, Lyr lies down next to her mother and counts down from three on her fingers for me. Three… two… one…

“Surprise!” Lyr screams excitedly from her spot on the bed.

Cash shrieks like a little girl and attempts to crawl off Kristine, getting his shoes caught in his jeans and instead tripping over his own feet. He stumbles into the bedside table, knocking everything off the top and onto the floor before his chin hits the corner. Cash wails as he falls onto the floor.

He lies there for just a second before slowly bringing himself to a kneeling position. He uses the bed to pull himself to his feet and stand there, wobbly and in pain. I’m just thankful I don’t have to watch this disgusting piece of shit rape his wife again.

I reveal myself a second later. “Yeah, surprise, motherfucker.”

And in “like father, like son” fashion, he goes pale and leans forward as he face-plants into the edge of the bed. His head bounces off the side, and he lands on the cat-pissed carpet with a thud.

“Fucking goats,” I mutter as I hook my arms beneath his sweaty pits and hoist him up. I lean him up against the wall in a sitting position and repeatedly slap him in the face. Lyr sits up, peering over the side of the bed.

“Having fun over there?” she asks, quietly giggling.

“Always,” I say jokingly.

Cash’s eyes shoot open. He looks at me, then at Lyr, and back to me.

He does this for what feels like forever, before he finally says, “Lyric? I saw your dead body. I was supposed to help clea—,” he stops himself, covering his big mouth.

Lyr fires back, “That’s funny that you say that, because I also see your body and it’s about to look just like mine.”

CHAPTER 37

LYRIC

Cash eyes me with a morbid look on his face as my mother stirs.