Page 111 of Devour

I stare at him and look for any hint that my brother is still in there, but I don’t find it. There’s a fucking monster in front of me. He’ll make good on his threats. I would’ve never thought so before all of this bullshit, but standing in front of him now, I know he’ll do it. I’m going to play along while I wait for the right time to make my move. I don’t want to kill him, but it looks like it’s him or me.

“Fine.” I force my voice to remain calm even though I’m anything but fucking calm. “I’ll do the video.”

He hands me my phone and moves closer, watching what I do with it. I unlock it with shaking hands. An hour ago, I was getting my nails done and feeling like life might be normal again, and now my brother is trying to make me record what sounds like a suicide note.

At least if I fail, I can make sure Axl knows how I feel about him.

“Make it look real, Sayl. You’d better break his fucking heart and make sure Axl knows the video is for him. Or I’ll make death very real for Kynlee.”

I hold the phone up and hit record. My face fills the screen, and I look like shit. My eyes are red, and my chin is trembling. I don’t have to fake the tears because they’re already falling.

“I’m sorry, Axl.” My voice breaks, and I hate that he’s making me say these words. “The nightmares won’t stop. I can’t sleep and I can’t—” I press my lips together. I’m buying time. The knife is still in my hoodie pouch, and he’s standing right there. If I can get him close enough.

He points at me from behind the camera.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Axl. I love you. I should have told you that before now. But this . . . it’s too much. Please don’t—” I choke on the words because saying them makes them feel real. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

Justin reaches past me and hits stop. “Good girl.”

The way he says that makes my entire body cringe. I fucking hate him.

“Let me just edit out the last little bit where I take the phone.” He stares at my phone. “There. It’s perfect.”

He turns away from me to set my phone on the bed. His back is to me for half a second.

I pull the knife from my hoodie pouch and flip the blade open the way Axl taught me, and I lunge at him.

I drive it toward his side, and the blade catches him across the ribs. He grunts and spins. His hand catches my wrist before I can stab him again. Fuck. Blood is soaking through his shirt where I cut him, and the look on his face is like I’m the one who betrayed him.

“Nice fucking try, Sayl.” He twists my wrist, and the knife drops onto the carpet. He kicks it under the bed and shoves me backward. I hit the wall, and the air goes out of my lungs. I can only hope I got him good enough that he’ll pass out.

I scramble for the door, but he’s faster. He grabs me by the back of my hoodie and throws me onto the bed. I’m kicking and swinging. My fist connects with his jaw, but he pins my wrists above my head with one hand and uses his weight to hold me down.

“Stop fighting me.” His voice breaks, and tears from his face fall onto mine. “I don’t want to do this, Sayl. I don’t have a fucking choice.”

“You always had a choice, you sick fuck.” I try to buck him off, but he’s too heavy. I spit in his face.

He doesn’t react. He reaches behind himself with his free hand and pulls something from his pocket. A pill bottle. He shakes a handful into his palm, and I clamp my mouth shut.

“Open your mouth.” He’s crying. Full tears run down his cheeks while he holds my wrists above my head with one hand and the pills in the other. “Please, Saylor. It’ll be fast. You’ll just go to sleep. And then you’ll be gone.”

I shake my head and keep my jaw locked. He’s going to have to break it.

He squeezes my jaw, and his fingers dig into both sides until the pain forces my mouth open, and he shoves at least four or five pills in. I try to spit them out, but he clamps his hand over my mouth and nose.

I can’t breathe. My body thrashes under him, and my lungs burn. I hold out as long as I can but they’re dissolving in my mouth. He lets go of my wrists to clamp both hands over my mouth and nose. I claw at his arms, but he doesn’t let go. I’m forced to swallow as I gasp for air.

Just when I think I’m going to pass out and dots cloud my vision, he pulls his hands off my face and I gasp. “You fucking—”

He grabs the whiskey bottle and presses it to my lips and pours. I try to turn my head, but he grips my jaw and holds me still. Whiskey runs down my chin and neck and soaks into Axl’s hoodie. I swallow because I can’t breathe if I don’t.

He catches my wrists again, and I’m trying to find some way to fight. I kick and scream, hoping that someone might hear me.

My phone rings, and he covers my mouth again with his other hand. “I love you, Sayl.” His voice is thick. “I’m so sorry.”

My eyes flutter as I fight to keep them open. My body goes limp, and I feel myself going under.

“I love you.” He says it again. His mouth is close to my ear, and I feel his tears on my neck. I think I hear his zipper, but I’m going under.