Page 25 of Make You Beg

He breathes heavily. He won’t say he’ll hurt me again or that he might do it even harder next time.

He’ll never admit it.

“You’ll kill me?” I dare him to answer, pushing him. “You want your only son gone? Like my mother and my brother?”

“And whose fucking fault is that?” he shouts.

I don’t say anything. Don’t remind him who did what. I don’t push it further because I haven’t in years. I never said anything. Pretend as if nothing happened, that’s his way of getting over everything. No matter how many scars we’re left with.

Don’t show weakness.

Fuck him.

Someday, I’ll show him.

“This conversation is over. You’re going to do a lot of coding. Get fucking used to it.” He walks toward the opening in the floor. “And you’re moving into one of the empty guest rooms downstairs. I’m tired of this fucking attic. It’s messing up my back. I’m going to keep a closer eye on you from now on, and it won’t be here. You’re moving ASAP.”

Fuck.

“Ah,” he says before climbing down the ladder. “And put on some of that fucking makeup I got you before you go down for dinner, won’t you? We don’t want Maddy and Miranda to imagine things that didn’t happen.”

He leaves, and I move to my closet again, opening the doors and crouching by the last drawer.

The one where I keep all my secrets. I take out the two different tubes of makeup he bought me for emergencies. He doesn’t usually beat me anywhere visible, and he hasn’t since he married Miranda. But he’s been known to slip sometimes, so he had me prepared.

I dig out the bottle of wine I stole from my father’s secret stash in the library and kept to myself.

I do this every month, multiple times, and I still sell it sometimes. We have so much alcohol lying around the house that he never notices. Or maybe he doesn’t give a fuck. I don’t care.

Spending a few moments in front of my desk with the makeup, I massage some onto my skin, using my phone as a mirror. There’s no bruise yet, so I do my whole face to make sure nothing stands out.

Once I’m done, I pick up the wine bottle again and feel the back of my jeans with my other hand, verifying my pack of cigarettes is on me, too. Satisfied, I climb out my open window and onto the roof.

I need a fucking break.

7

KAYDEN

I take a long drag of my last cigarette and exhale, letting the heaviness exit my body. Another sip of wine and I’m reborn. The sour taste with hints of sweet grapes sits well on my tongue.

The view is exhilarating from up here. The row of houses showcasing similar architecture, the wide street in the middle leading a path to the unknown, and how it’s all quiet save the sound of the passing cars. It’s perfect.

It all seems so small, so insignificant, it makes me feel powerful, causing the hairs at the back of my neck stand and my skin crawl. Like little spiders sprinting along my arms, running a marathon, eager to sting me and get a taste of my blood.

I’m aware it sounds terrifying. No normal person would compare a satisfying view to having spiders spread through their bodies. But then again, I’m not normal.

A normal person wouldn’t be here. A normal person doesn’t have to deal with the shit I do.

“Kayden! Dinner time!” Maddy’s voice echoes through the walls.

It’s unusual for her. Ever since we declared war on each other, she couldn’t care less about what I do or don’t do, let alone if I eat a proper meal. Even since that day—she hasn’t gotten anywhere near my room.

My father must have sent her to get me.

“Hey, asshole!” she insists.

There it is. The feisty little menace she is.