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This was where I needed to say something, to have the last word, but she walked away before I got the chance. Damn.
Maybe her being my in would be fun.
* * *
LOLA
Sleep didn’t come easy, not that I expected it to anyway.
There was a time when I would sleep soundly in this house, but that all changed a year ago. The lock on my bedroom door was a new thing, one that Hut wasn’t aware of. Not sober Hut anyway.
That night had changed many things in this house. Not only had it showcased exactly who I was living with, but it was a warning too. A warning to every person who thought they could come into Hut’s life and dictate how he acted toward people.
It was the first night he’d scared me, and I knew I would never forget how he pinned me down to my bed and held a knife to my throat, threatening to slice me into tiny pieces. And all because I dared go on a date with someone he knew. No one told Hut who to be, least of all people who were disposable to him.
My throat burned, and tears sprang to my eyes as I rolled over and swallowed, needing to drink some water. The half-empty bottle I’d fetched early this morning sat on my small bedside table that had seen better days. I reached for it and sat up in my bed, crossing my legs and staring at the wall.
Everything was piling up, things being added constantly, and it was sure to all come tumbling down at some point. It was swaying back and forth, only needing a strong wind to completely demolish it.
The low thrum of the TV echoed throughout the house, and several voices mixed in with it. My stomach dipped, knowing that Hut must be home by now. I had to face him this morning. Show no weakness and all that. But I was getting tired of having to be the strong one all the time. Sometimes I just wanted to let the tears fall and cry myself to sleep. Only I couldn’t, because the moment that I did, all would be lost. If I opened that Pandora’s box, I’d never get the lid shut again.
My threadbare blanket covered my legs, offering me a little warmth in an otherwise cold house. This room had been mine since the first day I moved in when I was twelve, and the decor was still the same: Light-pink walls, covered in random pieces of paper and posters, a single bed pushed up against one wall, and just enough room for a set of drawers.
It was tiny, but all mine.
I took another swallow of my water, placed the empty bottle on the bedside table, and yanked the covers aside. I moved three steps to the door, unlatched the lock, and opened it to the hallway. There was no telling what—or should I say who—would greet me when I went downstairs, but I was hoping I could get out of the house without seeing anyone.
The thrum of the TV was louder now, mixed in with someone’s laughter. My room was at the end of the hallway, so with each step, I could decipher who was talking. I passed Hut’s room and finally made it into the bathroom.
The dark-green sink had been here since the house was built, it had seen better days, but it served its purpose. Only one tap worked—the cold one—but it was all I needed to brush my teeth. I made sure the lock was flipped, pulled my clothes off, and stepped into the bath that had a shower attachment. I envied the walk-in showers I saw on TV or the shower units that were attached to the wall over a bath. All I had was a showerhead that balanced on a plastic shelf meant for shampoo bottles.
It was what I was used to though.
By the time I’d finished and opened up the bathroom door, the noise was louder, and more people were awake. I made a mad dash for my bedroom with the towel wrapped around me, cursing myself for not taking my clothes in with me. I knew better than that, but the small murmurings had lured me into a false sense of security—a security I couldn’t afford to have in this house.
I towel dried my hair and pulled it into a bun at the base of my neck, needing it out of my face for the workday ahead. Saturdays were one of the busiest days at the diner, which meant double shifts and more money to be made, and I desperately needed that money to get out of this shithole. I may only be able to afford another shithole, but at least then it would be my shithole. Having something of your own was better than having nothing at all.
I pulled on my jeans and a baggy T-shirt, tying it at my waist so it didn’t swallow me whole, and sat down on the bed. The soles of my knock-off Converse were coming apart, but until I could replace them next month, they’d have to do. I just hoped it didn’t rain today, because if it did, I was fucked.
The small mirror on my set of drawers revealed the purple ring around my throat, and I blew out a puff of air. There was no way I would be able to get away with covering it with makeup—not that I had the kind that would be able to anyway. I used the cheap stuff, the sort that just about evened out your skin tone. So I tied a headscarf around my neck, making it look like it was a fashion choice rather than a necessity.
Once I was ready, I grabbed my jacket and purse, and headed out of my room, making sure my door was closed behind me. There was little I could do to protect my privacy when I wasn’t here, but lucky for me, my most valuable possessions—a photograph of my mom and me, and her locket necklace—were kept in my locker at work.
The stairs creaked as I descended them, announcing my approach. In the time it had taken me to get ready, the house must have emptied of guests, and all who were left behind were members of Hut’s crew, half of which were passed out on the threadbare sofas. Ford’s shocking blond hair was sticking up in all different directions, and a half-smoked cigarette hung from his lips. How could someone fall asleep while smoking?
I stepped over his legs, pulled the butt from between his lips, and jammed it into the overflowing ashtray. Quinn and Jace were watching the TV but made no move to say anything to me. They knew better than that. Hut was nowhere in sight, but as I stepped closer to the kitchen, I heard his voice.
“He said he’d meet today to discuss payment,” Hut said, excitement evident in his tone. “This could be the next step up.”
“Fuck, bro,” Ted replied. “We’re gonna be reaping it in!”
I walked into the kitchen, flicking my gaze over the two of them around the table and Brody leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Tell me about it.” Hut leaned back in his seat and smiled up at me. “Mornin', sweets.”
“Morning,” I replied, lifting my lips into the fakest smile I’d ever shown. I had to play the part with him, at least for a little while anyway. I had to buy myself more time.
“Where you heading to?” Hut asked as I grabbed a Pop-Tart out of the cabinet above the sink.
