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“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he slurred.
He was drunk out of his mind again.
“Get out! Get out of my room now!”
He tugged his pants up, the elastic popping against his skin as he backed away.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “I fucked up, Everly.”
I sat up in my bed, pulling my blanket to my neck.
“Please,” I whispered, feeling rage and sickness swimming up the back of my throat. “Just get out.”
He held his hands up, palms out, and tripped over his own feet until he reached my door. “Let’s just forget this happened.”
I didn’t respond. Instead of pushing it further, he bumped into my doorframe before stepping out and closing my bedroom door behind him.
How had he gotten inside when the door was locked?
He had to have picked the lock.
What kind of criminal did we have living under our roof?
And did it even matter?
I happened to know my own brother was doing shady stuff, as well.
What was my mother doing that I didn’t know of?
It was like we moved to Atlanta, and everyone changed—including me.
I didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I sat there staring at the door in case he decided to try again. It wasn’t until the sun streamed into my room, and I heard people moving around downstairs in the kitchen that I picked up my phone and texted my mom.
Me: Please come to my room without telling anyone you’re coming up. I need to talk to you about something important.
I waited twenty minutes before my door opened, and my mom was standing there with a piece of bacon between her two fingers. She nibbled on it and lifted her brows in question as if I had bothered her during her breakfast.
“What’s up?” she asked.
I went for the kill. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she needed to know. She deserved better. For one, it wasn’t right for Will to be staying in her house while hitting on her daughter, but the fact that he was pleasuring himself in my room.
No.
Just no.
It was beyond acceptable.
“It’s Will,” I blurted.
Her shoulders grew tense, and she stopped chewing before tossing the last bit of bacon in her mouth and licking her fingers.
“What about him?”
The words stuck to the walls of my mouth like peanut butter, thick and hard to swallow.
“He’s been saying and doing things.”
Her eyes went hard, and she crossed her arms. “Things like what?”
