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McGoven.Paralyzing fear raced down her spine. How did he know? She cleaned the house twice. Every trace of Officer McGoven had been scraped, wiped, and vacuumed away.
“Well?” her father bellowed. His next kick caught her ribs. Long-honed practice was the only thing that held in the scream.
“Huh, you little bitch? Answer me!”
“He wouldn’t leave,” she croaked, gasping for air. “I’m sorry—”
“What did he say to you? What didyousay tohim?”
Loren shook her head. “N-Nothing—”
“He had to want something.” Her father glanced her over with disgust, settling on the high collar of her nightgown. “He thought you were one of those pompous little bitches. What lies did he feed you, huh? That he could take you away to paradise? And what the fuck did you give him, you little slut?”
When he reached for her, Loren flinched, breaking that protective, blank shell. Like a shark sensing blood, he caught wind of her fear. It made him bolder. Louder. Angrier.
“Huh?” He snatched her sleeve, wrenching her unceremoniously to her feet. “What did you do, you little slut?”
“N-Nothing,” Loren stammered. “He j-just asked about us,” she added, voice tight with pain. “He asked if I had any other family—”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Wham!She barely saw him form a fist before it collided with the side of her face. Sparks danced before her eyes as the world swayed beneath her feet. The next slap caught the other side of her face, sending her into the wall.
“And I’m sure you told him everything, didn’t you,” her father snarled. “Didn’t you?”
For the first time in years, Loren forgot all about being a turtle and making herself a small target.
She ran.
The kitchen was her only refuge, though deep down, she knew it was pointless to hide. She was boxing herself in and merely prolonging the inevitable. It didn’t matter. The need to move was instinctive, too urgent to ignore.Run!
“Where the hell are you going?” He was paces behind, taking his time as if confident she wouldn’t make it far.
Run,Loren thought frantically. With no other option, she raced for the back door.
This time was different. She could taste it—sense it, right down to the inevitable stench of death on her own skin. He had hit her in the face, without bothering to worry about bruises. He had kicked her without concerning himself with how loudly she might scream.
He was angry. Angrier than she had ever seen him before, and when she fumbled with the lock on the screen door, he caught her by the waist.
As if she weighed nothing, he threw her aside into the counter.
Thwack!
Wincing, she caught herself on the kitchen sink and scrambled upright. By the time she regained her balance, her father was closing in with the eerie, predatory grace of a wolf. It was as if the rage had a calming effect on him.
He was enjoying this. Even the look in his eyes was different. Sharper. Colder. Meaner.
Run!
Loren jerked on her feet, unsure of what to do. If she resisted, he’d only hit her again. Hit her harder. Kill her…
Stop!That calm, commanding voice returned, snapping her limbs into action.Focus!
Trembling, she wrenched open the nearest drawer. There, ready for the taking, was a knife—the same one her father ate his steak with. God, she couldn’t really use it… Could she?
Shehadto.
“What the hell are you going to do with that, girl?” her father demanded as she gripped the brittle handle.
