“Well, you’ve proven you can’t watch television. Cards are a little more active, and maybe I won’t have to watch you wear a hole in the rug.”
Her arms crossed over her chest, and it took a monumental amount of effort to avoid glancing down at her cleavage. The shirt was so tight her nipples poked prominently against the fabric.
OK, I’d avoided the glance this time, but that wasn’t to say I’d never caught myself looking.
Internally cursing, I pushed to stand. “I’m finding some cards. Take it or leave it. I’ll play some solitaire if you’d rather not.”
I left her in the living room and wandered into the kitchen, pulling open drawers to find the designated junk drawer. Everyone had one. Leighton must. I’d gotten halfway around the kitchen when the front door lock buzzed.
I turned, but before I’d gotten the ‘hello’ out, I choked.
My lower back exploded in pain, tearing long-buried memories out of their carefully constructed box. Warm blood dripped from the wound, soaking my jeans as I turned around slowly.
Kiara stood behind me, clutching the handle of a small knife.
Her form blurred, my attention focusing on the gleam of metal.
She’d stabbed me, and I tried desperately to ground myself in that reality. It was no fucking use. The coppery scent of my blood hit the air, and I couldn’t see Kiara anymore.
There was onlythem.
The men and the violence and the fucking pain.
“Hey look, the kid’s awake. Wonder if we can get Mommy to talk now.”
“You should have stayed asleep, son.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for your parents if you died right now? But I’m not going to kill you. No way. You’d have to figure out how to do it yourself.”
“This was the only way.” Her whispered words were enough to make me lose myself.
My hand grabbing and tightening around her throat cut off the tail end of the last word.
“…The only way your mom lives is if you do as I say…”
I could feel the lick of flames against my skin again, smoke clinging to my throat and making every inhale agony. The steady drip of blood down my back was dried by the fire.
I sighed in relief. No more pain. None. Only heat and an orange glow.
My grip tightened around the neck of my attacker. If I was going down, they were going down with me.
They deserved it. Burning alive.
But I couldn’t quite keep my fingers from clenching and squeezing, the gasp bringing me sick satisfaction.
Did their throat burn like mine?
Were the flames eating their skin?It wouldn’t hurt me like it hurt them. Half the skin on my back had been flayed off, so the fire was sweet oblivion, killing flesh they’d been so eager to harm.
“Ambrose?”
A voice and sweet vanilla scent invaded my consciousness.
Something was off. I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the smoky grey haze in front of my eyes. It didn’t work, and then hands grasped my arm.
No. They need to die.
I choked them with more force, vaguely registering their skin was smooth and delicate. It didn’t feel right. There weren’t remnants of stubble scratching at me. They weren’t strong enough to fight back.
