Page 474 of Lessons in Cruelty

Folded fabric, probably dish towels.

Fucking useless. Well, I guess he could use it to mop up the blood after he slits my throat.

Violence hangs in the air, and it reminds me of the chemical stench of meth after Uncle Lenny would heat a serving on his tinfoil.

That’s when I would get the fuck out of the house and not come back until it became equally dangerous to be outside in the street.

Midnight, usually.

There’s a clock on the wall behind me. Only now, in the charged hush as Kai stalks across the cabin, do I hear the second hand.

Tick.

Tick.

It’s long past midnight already.

Nowhere is safe for me anymore.

I clench my jaw, biting back a whimper as my foot throbs in agony, the pain only now soaking through what’s left of the adrenaline lacing my veins.

Carefully, quietly, I scoot over the floor and reach for another drawer.

This one feels heavier. I only pray that’s because there’s a shit ton of knives inside.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Kai rasps.

My fingertips skate over something smooth, slick, cool. I drag it to the edge of the drawer and carefully pull it up along the side.

I stare at the lighter in my palm.

Just as useless as the fucking dish towels. Maybe if Kai wasn’t wet as the sack of cats we found on the banks of the creek that one time, then⁠—

“What game you wanna play tonight, Miss H?” Kai’s footsteps are quieter now, as if he’s creeping. “Hide and Hunt?”

A floorboard creaks, and it’s way, way, way too fucking close.

My heart bangs painfully inside my chest, my eyes squeezing shut before I force them open. Shaking fingers reach up, slide into the drawer, hunting.

“Nah. The Bandit and the Queen right? You always liked that one.”

I pull out an ice pick.

It’s cold in my hand. So gloriously heavy.

Gritting my teeth, I lay my leg flat and slip the ice pick behind the waistband of my short, black skirt. Silver thread glimmers, the luxurious fabric a strange contrast to my pale, dirty legs.

No use running anymore. The only way out of this kitchen is past Kai. Or through him.

He chuckles to himself, and the sound sends a chill through my body that leaves a hard shiver in its wake. The ice pick is cold against my hip and thigh, but warming up quickly. I slip the lighter behind my bra…just in case.

“How about the Quiet Game?” Kai’s voice is so low, so menacing, that I almost make a run for it, anyway.

My chest heaves as I fight to control my breathing.

Another floorboard creaks.

My eyes pop open. I stare up at Kai as he steps into the kitchen area.