Page 6 of Winter Break

I cringe. “No.” My answer is curt and forceful.

Orion’s brows are drawn together. “No? What is he to you?”

“He’s my stepfather. My mother married him when I was twelve. She died four years ago when I was sixteen.”

“Is that when he started abusing you?” he growls.

My lips part. I don’t know how to answer him.

“Don’t try to lie to me, Little doll. It’s obvious to all of us that your stepfather is a very bad man.”

Suddenly, emotions consume me. A tear escapes to run down my cheek. “If he finds out I was this close to you…” I mutter.

“Little doll, you’re going to be so much closer to me. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long time. Get used to it.”

I reach up with both hands to grab his forearms. Pain radiates from my wrist, making me whimper. The room starts spinning. I have vertigo. Shit. It happens to me sometimes when I’m stressed. It infuriates Vincent. He says I’m making it up.

I can’t stop it, though. Squeezing my eyes closed isn’t helping. I know it doesn’t. This isn’t my first vertigo rodeo. But now my panic is increasing because I’m sitting on the counter. If Orion lets go of me and I sway too far to one side, I might fall.

A low moan escapes me. Shit shit shit.

“Cora?” His voice is distant. Concerned. He lowers one hand from my face to my shoulder. “Talk to me, Little doll.”

I’m embarrassed, but keeping my weird ailment to myself won’t help at all. “Vertigo…” I murmur.

Suddenly, I’m in his arms, cradled against his chest. He’s carrying me from the kitchen. I don’t open my eyes because I’m trying to control the symptoms. Everything is still spinning.

When my back hits a soft surface, I whimper. Where am I now? I fear I’m on his bed. “Orion…” I whisper.

He’s still touching me, rolling me to my side and keeping a hand on my back as he says, “Don’t move, Little doll. Let me close the blinds and get you some water.”

I take deep breaths while he’s gone. I’m shocked by his reaction. He hasn’t once accused me of lying. I’m not used to being treated so kindly. It’s been a long time.

When a gentle hand lands on my back, I find myself feeling ten times calmer. How does he do that? The bed dips as he sits next to me. “How often does this happen, Little doll?”

I shrug. “Once a week, I guess?” It’s hard to say since I always hide the symptoms to avoid infuriating Vincent.

“That’s a lot, Cora. Have you seen a doctor?”

“I did when I was younger. Not in the last four years.”

He lets out one of those low growls again. “Not since your mother died.”

“Mmm.” I don’t bother with words.

“That fucker, Vincent, never took you to a doctor.”

I nod agreement, regretting the movement of my head.

“Take a drink, Little doll,” he encourages. Something brushes against my lips, and I part them to let the straw inside. Only it’s not a straw. More like a mouth piece.

I wrap my lips around it and suck.

“Good girl. Drink some more. You need fluids.”

I keep swallowing, confused by whatever sort of cup I’m drinking from but not enough to actually look or care to ask.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, stroking my back as though he’s proud of me for drinking water. “Better?”