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I’m having a nightmare,one of the day my mom skidded off the road. The nightmare always plays out just like the memory of that day and always ends with that scream. I’m not even sure who the scream belonged to, yet the sound is branded into my mind like a hot iron searing flesh. I end up awakening before my alarm goes off with the sound of the scream echoing in my head.
Since the sun hasn’t even risen yet, I try to go back to sleep, knowing I’m going to need my rest to deal with Blaise and his favors. Unfortunately, my mind’s too wired and focused on that damn bag in the backyard.
Is my dad working for a drug dealer now? That’d mean Blaise’s dad is a drug dealer, which I guess could be possible.
There is another scenario, though. One that makes me restless with worry.
What if my dad stole the money and drugs from someone? Someone who’s going to be awfully pissed off when they find out.
My stomach clenches in knots. What if the latter is true? What if my dad stole from, like, a drug lord or something? What if the drug lord comes after my sisters and me to get back at my dad?
“Fuck,” I whisper, raking my fingers through my hair. “I need to chill out and stop overthinking this. Just find out the truth.”
How am I supposed to do that? My dad sure as hell isn’t going to tell me the truth. He hardly tells the truth anymore.
After half an hour of lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to Londyn snore, and stressing myself out, I give up on going back to sleep. I throw the blankets off, grab some clothes, and head to the bathroom to take a shower.
Since my family is fairly late risers, I figure everyone is still asleep, so when my dad steps out of his bedroom as I’m about to walk into the bathroom, I assume he’s coming into the house from an all-night bender. Then I notice he’s dressed in clean clothes, his face is freshly shaven, and his hair is combed. He’s also digging around in his pocket for something.
“Are you just getting home or heading out somewhere?” I ask, grasping the bathroom doorknob.
He jolts, dropping whatever he dug out of his pocket. “Shit, you scared me.” Exhaling a shaky breath, he scoops up the dropped object—a set of keys—then straightens and uses a key to lock up his bedroom door, fumbling a little like he’s nervous. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, so are you.” I eyeball the deadbolt on his door that wasn’t there when we moved in. “Did you just install that lock?”
He nods, stuffing the keys into his pocket. “Yeah, last night.”
“Why?”
“Because I want some privacy.”
“You say that like we snoop around in your room all the time.”
His digs a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of his jacket, pops one into his mouth, and lights up. “Not all the time, but I know you guys do sometimes,” he says through a cloud of smoke. “I’ve caught Payton going through my stuff a couple times. She needs to stop doing that. What’s in my room is none of her damn business.”
I raise a brow. “Like you haven’t ever gone through our stuff?”
He takes another drag. “I’m the parent. I’m allowed to go through my daughters’ stuff if I think I need to.”
“The only reason you ever do is to steal money from us,” I accuse, beyond irritated with him. Not just for what he’s saying, but for locking the door.
First the bag in the backyard and now this? Just what is he up to?
Nothing good, I’m sure.
He ashes the cigarette onto the carpet with a hurt expression. “I’ve never stolen from you girls. I’m glad you think so lowly of me.”
I almost feel bad. A couple days ago, I may have. Now I’m starting to get really tired of his crap.
“We used to not think that lowly of you,” I admit. “But yeah, I’m not going to lie, lately, with the stuff you’ve been doing, my opinion of you has gone way down.”
“Lately?” he questions. “All I’ve done lately is work to take care of you guys.”
I resist an eye roll. Take care of us? He hasn’t taken care of us since we lost our mom.
“You’ve had a steady job for a week, Dad, and God knows what the hell you’re doing since you won’t tell us where you work.”
He shakily inhales from the end of his cigarette. “I work at the hardware store as a clerk.”
