AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Why?" Norman is chortling now. "Family slave to family whore. It's a natural progression. I won't be surprised if Dad decides to give you a test run himself at some point. Mom's getting old and probably isn't as fun in the sack as a young thing like you would be."
"You have no shame," Cynthia breathes. "You're a vile thing, Norman Moore. And I'm done here."
I hear the scraping of furniture as if she's getting up, and then Norman says, almost pleasant-like now, "You know, if you give in and become my woman, I could probably convince Dad to stop his punishments."
"I would rather slit my throat than touch something as disgusting as you."
Her sentence ends with a gasp and cries of shock and alarm from other customers.
I hear the sound of flesh striking flesh, and I don't wait around. Vaulting over the hedge, I see Cynthia's claws bared as she tries to defend herself against my younger brother, who has an insane rage in his eyes as he pounds on her with his fists. I grab Norman by the back of his shirt and throw him backward. He goes flying into the furniture, and I immediately turn my attention to Cynthia. Her left cheek is bruised and her lip is split, but she doesn't look upset or scared. Instead, she looked furious.
"I'll kill him. I'll kill him."
She's muttering the mantra under her breath, her voice frenzied as her body shakes.
I grab her, feeling her body tense up. She doesn't seem to register her pain.
"Come with me," I order her, but her eyes are focused on Norman, who is getting to his feet. Cynthia's body is hot to the touch, almost blazing.
"Let me go," she says roughly. "I'll deal with this today."
"No, you won't!" I give her a little shake. "You're coming with me."
"Fuck off, Adam," Norman snarls. "This has nothing to do with you. She doesn't want to go with you. Come here, Cynthia."
But Cynthia doesn't move.
For a moment, I'm actually worried she plans on ending Norman's life. I've never felt such strong killing intent from another person.
"I said come here," Norman yells out, approaching her and grabbing her wrist.
I turn around and slash him in the stomach with my claws, unable to control my own anger. After everything I just heard, keeping my calm is not possible anymore. I feel his warm blood spurt out on my hand, and I snarl, "You're lucky I didn't slice your head off."
He falls to the ground, his eyes wide, his body twitching.
I look at Cynthia, who hasn't flinched.
Taking her hand in mine, I drag her out of there. She doesn't say anything as I help her into the passenger seat. Getting into the car, I begin the drive to my apartment.
She's silent, and it's when we're nearing my apartment that she says, "You should have let me kill him."
"So my father could kill you?" I demand.
"Death would be a better alternative anyway." Her fingers dig into her coat. "But to see Norman die at my hands would have been worth everything, even my own death."
"Shut up."
It enrages me to hear her talk of her death with such calm.
He'll drag you back into the basement and whip you until you shit yourself. Remember the time he made you clean up your own blood?
Family slave to family whore. It's a natural progression.
What has been going on in that house?
"My father?" I ask after a few seconds. "He's whipped you?"
Cynthia turns her head to stare at me. "Why are you pretending to be surprised?"
