AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Boston was on the window ledge—my attempt at resuscitating the poor fern. I’ve been diligently watering him. I take him outside each morning to soak up sunlight and bring him in at night, afraid we might have another freak cold snap that would doom him for good.
He’s not thriving. He’s barely surviving.
But I distinctly remember bringing him inside before my date with Drake last night. How the hell did he get all the way over here? If he fell off the window ledge, he’d be on the counter, or in the sink.
It’s almost as if someone grabbed him and threw him on the…
I clutch at my belly as a sudden creeping sense of dread overcomes me. There’s no way my uncle would touch Boston. He knows what the poor fern means to me. How important it is that Boston survive.
I suck in a breath when movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye. I turn around slowly, barely daring to move, as terror flows through my veins. The door to the pantry stands open. Leaning against the doorjamb, Scott levies a murderous gaze in my direction.
“About time you got home.” He inspects his cuticles. It’s a slow, agonizing movement, as if he’s got all the time in the world.
I’ve seen him like this before. It’s what he does when he decides I need to be punished. He likes to draw out the suspense, making me shake with fear.
“What are you doing here?” My fingers claw at the fabric of my shirt as I debate what to do next.
I’m too far from the kitchen door leading outside. I’m equally far from the front door. No matter which way I jump, Scott will be on me before I can escape.
I suddenly regret Drake not wanting to stay.
“The better question is why you weren’t here.” Malevolence boils in his gaze. Fury bunches in his shoulders. Anger flexes in his biceps. His fingers curl, forming hands into fists.
Fists I know all too well.
I gulp and slowly slide my left foot back.
At least I know what happened to poor Boston.
Scott broke in, either late last night or earlier today. No doubt he recognized the fern. In his rage, I clearly see Scott grabbing Boston, lifting the poor thing in the air, then slamming it down on the floor.
Destroying the things I care about is exactly how he operates.
Then it hits me.
“What did you do to my uncle?”
“I haven’t done shit to him.” Spittle flies out of Scott’s mouth as he spits out the words. “He’s been in his room for hours.” Scott’s voice rises in pitch, turning into a blood-chilling shout.
“Please…” I hold out my hand, palm out, as if that will stop Scott.
“Hours!” Scott takes a step forward as I take one back. “Were you fucking him? Is that what you were doing?”
I could try to escape, but if my uncle is here, and I have no reason to think he isn’t, there’s no way I’m leaving him with Scott.
I’ve seen Scott mad. I’ve seen him angry. What I’ve never seen is Scott enraged. I need to get Scott outside and away from my uncle.
“We should talk outside.” My voice shakes with the fear flooding my system. My legs shake like wet noodles. My breaths catch in my throat.
“Damn straight, we need to talk.” He takes another step, testing me.
I’ve learned not to run. It was one of my earliest lessons, one beaten into me until I curled into the fetal position and begged Scott to stop hitting me until I lost my voice.
Scott hates when I force him to come after me. He thinks I should fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness he’ll never give.
“Scott…” I continue to hold out my hand as if that will stop him.
But with each word, I take another step back, drawing Scott out of the kitchen while moving me closer to the door.
