Page 26
Story: Cruel Secrets
He’s dangerous and I would be stupid to think that I mean something to him—tattoo on his back or not. The way he keeps lurking around the house and watching me makes me think that he’s just looking for the right moment to get rid of me.
A lump builds in my throat. I don’t know if things are always going to be this tense between us, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they are.
It’s better this way. He can barely stand the sight of me, and I don’t know what to do if I have to keep dealing with him.
After another moment of looking at the book, I head upstairs to the last room in the hallway, and when I push open the door, I’m greeted with the sight of a wall of paned windows overlooking the forest outside.
Spread throughout the room are a couple different easels. Canvases stand in a rack to one side, and on the other side, there’s a long counter with a sink and more oil paint than I’ve ever seen before.
He did this for me?
There has to be more to it. He has to have a reason for doing this. Maybe he wants me to let down my guard so he can get closer to Bianca. He could be waiting for the right moment to kill me and take her. That would be easier to do if I was relaxed and working on paintings.
I don’t know if I can trust this or him.
But the paints are calling my name and my fingers are itching to pick up a brush and work on a new piece.
Just as I’m about to inspect the paint, gunshots ring out from downstairs.
My heart clenches in my chest as I tear out of the bedroom and into the nursery.
Royce is already in there, a gun in one hand and Bianca on his hip. His hand cups the back of her head, pressing her face close to him as she screams.
I lunge at him, not thinking about what I’m doing or the gun that swings my way as I try to rip her from his arms.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He shakes me off him before handing me Bianca. “Get in the closet and don’t come out until I come to get you.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I take her, heading for the closet door, feeling ridiculous for going after him. “Who the hell is in the house?”
“In!” he snaps, opening the door and giving my back a light nudge.
I do as he says, though an argument is on the tip of my tongue.
If it means keeping Bianca safe, though, I’ll do whatever he says.
“You’re going to need this. Anybody other than me comes through that door, you kill them.” He pulls another gun from a holster on his shin and hands it to me. “I’m serious. You kill them.”
“I’ll kill them.” I take the gun, glancing at the magazine. It’s fully loaded.
Royce shuts the door behind me as the sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the house.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say as I hold Bianca close.
Her little body shakes with sobs as she clutches the front of my shirt, but her tears slow.
Shouting booms through the house, but I can’t make out the words they’re saying. They’ve been muffled by the floor.
I rock back and forth, hating the fact that I’m holding on to my child and a gun at the same time. Though I knew it’d be unavoidable with the life I lead, I had hoped that she would be older. Able to run if something happened.
Not helpless and in my arms, relying on me to be able to do something for her.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
The words play like a chant in my head as I rock back and forth, trying to lull her back to sleep.
My pulse races, stomach tying itself into a tight knot. “We’re going to be okay soon. Royce is going to come back and he’s going to tell us that everything is taken care of.”
At least I hope he is.
A lump builds in my throat. I don’t know if things are always going to be this tense between us, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they are.
It’s better this way. He can barely stand the sight of me, and I don’t know what to do if I have to keep dealing with him.
After another moment of looking at the book, I head upstairs to the last room in the hallway, and when I push open the door, I’m greeted with the sight of a wall of paned windows overlooking the forest outside.
Spread throughout the room are a couple different easels. Canvases stand in a rack to one side, and on the other side, there’s a long counter with a sink and more oil paint than I’ve ever seen before.
He did this for me?
There has to be more to it. He has to have a reason for doing this. Maybe he wants me to let down my guard so he can get closer to Bianca. He could be waiting for the right moment to kill me and take her. That would be easier to do if I was relaxed and working on paintings.
I don’t know if I can trust this or him.
But the paints are calling my name and my fingers are itching to pick up a brush and work on a new piece.
Just as I’m about to inspect the paint, gunshots ring out from downstairs.
My heart clenches in my chest as I tear out of the bedroom and into the nursery.
Royce is already in there, a gun in one hand and Bianca on his hip. His hand cups the back of her head, pressing her face close to him as she screams.
I lunge at him, not thinking about what I’m doing or the gun that swings my way as I try to rip her from his arms.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He shakes me off him before handing me Bianca. “Get in the closet and don’t come out until I come to get you.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I take her, heading for the closet door, feeling ridiculous for going after him. “Who the hell is in the house?”
“In!” he snaps, opening the door and giving my back a light nudge.
I do as he says, though an argument is on the tip of my tongue.
If it means keeping Bianca safe, though, I’ll do whatever he says.
“You’re going to need this. Anybody other than me comes through that door, you kill them.” He pulls another gun from a holster on his shin and hands it to me. “I’m serious. You kill them.”
“I’ll kill them.” I take the gun, glancing at the magazine. It’s fully loaded.
Royce shuts the door behind me as the sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the house.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say as I hold Bianca close.
Her little body shakes with sobs as she clutches the front of my shirt, but her tears slow.
Shouting booms through the house, but I can’t make out the words they’re saying. They’ve been muffled by the floor.
I rock back and forth, hating the fact that I’m holding on to my child and a gun at the same time. Though I knew it’d be unavoidable with the life I lead, I had hoped that she would be older. Able to run if something happened.
Not helpless and in my arms, relying on me to be able to do something for her.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
The words play like a chant in my head as I rock back and forth, trying to lull her back to sleep.
My pulse races, stomach tying itself into a tight knot. “We’re going to be okay soon. Royce is going to come back and he’s going to tell us that everything is taken care of.”
At least I hope he is.
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