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Sucking in a breath, I hike toward the front door, open it, and then enter. The instant I step over the threshold, my guard goes up. Only the hallway light upstairs is on. The air is quiet, too.
Where is everyone? Did they go out for a family dinner or something?
Pressing my lips together, I step inside, shut the door, and tiptoe for the stairway. I’m not even sure why I’m tiptoeing other than I don’t want anyone to know I’m home. That is, if anyone is home.
Right as I reach the top of the stairway, I pause as my phone buzzes. I assume it’s Harlow again, but nope. It’s a text from Dixie May.
I almost don’t read it, but curiosity gets the best of me.
Bitchy Bitch of the West: Found your little stash. Didn’t know you were such a drug addict. Good thing my dad’s a cop. Have fun in jail, beotch.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I whisper in horror.
My heart slams against my chest as I rush to my room and shove the door open. The lamp is on, revealing the stash of drugs that I stole from my uncle scattered across my bed.
Shit.
I spin around to run, but my uncle steps out from behind the door and blocks my path, anger blazing in his eyes.
“So, you thought you could steal from me, huh?” He crosses his arms and stares me down.
He’s not a very tall man, which is strange since my dad was really tall, but he’s bulky and has a mean right hook. That I know personally. He’s also still dressed in his sheriff uniform, even though he’s probably been off work for a couple of hours. He wears it when he’s trying to intimidate me. I don’t know why he thinks it does.
“I didn’t steal that from you.” My voice comes out even. I’ve learned not to show fear when he gets like this. That it only seems to rile him up more. “That’s stuff I bought.” Yeah, I’m basically admitting that I bought drugs, but I’d rather have him believe that than know I stole from him.
He gives a hollow laugh as he steps toward me while reaching back for the door. “How stupid do you think I am, Raven? I’m well aware that you’ve been stealing from me. But do you want to know what pisses me off even more?”
I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood, resisting the urge to throw out some snarky remark.
He slowly closes the door, thenclick, he locks it. “That you know a little secret of mine.”
I push down the fear wanting to emerge from inside me, let out a slow breath, and inch back. “I don’t know anything.”
“Liar.” He matches my move, stepping forward and stealing the distance I put between us. “You’ve always been good at that—being a lying cunt.” He steps toward me again, his fingers drifting toward his holster. “Remind me; have I marked you with that word yet? Sometimes it’s hard to remember with all the marks I’ve put on you already.” He pulls out his knife and flips the blade open. “You make it so easy with that mouth of yours. It’s like you like me cutting you up.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in …
Exhale.
“Look, I’m sorry for stealing your drugs. I don’t know why I did it, but I’ll stop. And I won’t tell anyone about the stash you have. I’m a lot of things, but you know I’m not a narc.”
He lightly traces his finger along the edge of the blade. “You know the only way I can get you to listen is to punish you. It’s the only way you’ll obey me.”
He always says this, but it never makes any sense, since I rarely obey anyway. In reality, I wonder if he gets off on this, on seeing me in pain, which is so messed up.
“I’ll start behaving better,” I lie, the backs of my legs bumping against the bed as I take another step back.
Shit. I’m cornered, but I refuse to allow myself to panic.
Numb, Raven. Tune out that fear.
He shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me again.”
“I’m not lying, “ I insist. “I promise. Just please don’t cut me again.”
His eyes flicker with delight for who the hell knows why. Then he reaches out and grabs my wrist. “You know I can do this. You know we have rules in my house.”
“Why am I the only one who has to follow them?” I growl out, jerking on my arm. “Let go of me, you asshole.”
