"Do not make me look bad," he said through clenched teeth. He exhaled, straightened up, and moved away. "Pink looks pretty on you.” He eyed Rochelle, his demeanor calm again.
Her hands flew to her top, smoothing it against her flat stomach. "Thanks," she cooed. Her gaze moved from Nate to Zane, waiting for him to compliment her as well.
Zane tightened his arms and gave me a hard shake before letting me go. I tumbled forward, catching myself at the last minute. Nate turned and walked up the stairs with Zane at his heels.
The tears I had been holding back spilled and ran down my cheeks. I pressed my hand over the burn and flinched. My heart was beating so fast, my entire body shook. My eyes darted to my arm, and I carefully moved my hand. My stomach twisted at the sight of my charred skin.
In a daze, I moved back to my cot and sank down. I heard the shower turn on, and a moment later, Phoebe laid a cold washcloth on top of the burn. It was as if my body was suddenly on autopilot; I stuck my feet under the old quilt and rested my head on the flat, thin pillow. Holding the washcloth over the burn, I closed my eyes and tried to think about nothing.
Angry voices floated through the air ducts but were too muffled to make out what was being shouted. The yelling went on for a few minutes before something hit the floor with a heavy thud, making me jump.
My eyes flew open, and I thought I saw the guy from the apartment standing in the shadows. I pressed my eyelids shut again and swallowed my pounding heart. Prickly sweat broke out across my body. I couldn’t think about him, not now, not yet. Instead, I thought about my dogs. It was a simple thought, one my overloaded brain could handle. I replayed a single memory of playing ball with Scarlet a few days before I was taken over and over in my mind. The sun was dodging clouds. There was a slight breeze. Lynn lay behind me on the deck in her bikini, even though I was chilled in shorts and a sweatshirt. She was obsessed with the sun. Then we went inside, joining the rest of my family around the dining room table. We talked and laughed as we passed around platters of food.
The basement door creaked open. The vision of home disappeared when I opened my eyes. I knew it was Jackson by the hesitance in his footfalls. I pulled the blankets up close to my eyes, as if that would protect me. I peered out at him to see that he was carrying a tray of our dinner. A fresh cut bled through the front of his t-shirt and he had another black eye.
"Thanks," Phoebe told him and took the tray. She said something else, too quiet for me to hear that caused Jackson to give her a tiny smile and shake my head. She reached out, gently touching his chest. He looked down at the blood and frowned. I moved the blanket down. Was she concerned about him?#p#分页标题#e#
Jackson looked behind him as if he was nervous someone might be there, and returned his attention to Phoebe. She asked him something and I heard him respond by saying that he didn't know. He shuffled his feet, muttered goodbye, and went back up the stairs.
Phoebe brought me a peanut butter sandwich. I had no appetite, no desire to eat. She sat on the edge of the bed and broke off a tiny piece, holding it up to my mouth.
"Eat. You need strength.”
"I have none left," I confessed. And I didn’t. Not at that moment, not after what had happened.
"Addie, you need it to leave," she whispered.
And I knew she was right. I pushed myself up and took the torn off bit of sandwich and forced myself to eat it. My throat was so dry and the sticky peanut butter wasn't helping. I got out of bed, the burn throbbing as I moved, and went to the table to get a water bottle.
It still hurt to walk. The pain between my legs was a constant reminder. My spine tingled with repugnance. How many times would it happen again before we escaped?
I moved back to my cot and ate the rest of the bland dinner. I was exhausted. Physically, I had been through a lot. But my mind sought sleep for another reason; I wouldn't have to think or process. I could escape into a dream … or a nightmare.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HALLOWEEN USED TO be my favorite holiday. I loved wearing costumes, and I loved that it became socially acceptable to obsess over anything and everything paranormal. Most of all, I loved putting together a zombie-themed book giveaway on my blog. Gorging myself on bags of bite-sized chocolates was always a plus too. Seeing groups of kids in their costumes running through down town Des Moines on that All Hollow's Eve only made me sad.
I hadn't been so close to home since the Pride Parade. Seeing the familiar buildings sparked something inside of me, something that I had buried deep and was scared to bring to the surface. Zane slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a gaggle of school-age children who ran out into the street.