Page 11 of Blood Ties

Kai

A s usual, it’s my job to clean up.

Felix’s body is closest to the barn, so I start with him, straining to pull him across the dirt and rocks.

After him, I’ll handle Caleb. May’s body is gone. So is Uncle Frank. He’s probably dragged her off to his shack for reasons I won’t think about.

I don’t think about the girl chained up in the basement, either.

I don’t think about the punishment waiting for me.

Instead I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of clean-up. I check Felix’s pockets for cash or valuables — he only has a phone, which I set aside for Dad. He’ll take them all a few towns over to help throw off any trail.

I set aside Felix’s metal belt buckle for the scrapyard, strip him and set the bloody clothes aside to burn. Then I grab the chainsaw.

Bodies are easiest to take apart at the joints. Wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck. Ankles, knees, hips.

Despite the stink of copper thick in my nose and throat, it’s a little easier to breathe after that. A little easier to think of it as just meat I’m cutting up. No different from butchering the animals I’m about to feed his remains to.

He’s big. I hope the pigs will still have room for Caleb.

*

W HEN I’M DONE WITH Felix, I trudge into the house to get his friend. I’m already filthy and exhausted. Another set of clothes I’ll have to burn. I really liked this shirt, too. It was a birthday present from Knox.

Blood has dried to a sticky coat on my body. And there’s plenty more of it to clean up in the house. I’m tired just thinking about everything I have to do.

Too tired to stay on guard like usual, so the first hit takes me by surprise.

I take a step into the living room and suddenly I’m on my back on the floor, stars flashing in my vision and cheekbone throbbing.

Dad looms over me. “Thought you got away without it, eh? Walking around without a care in the world.”

I don’t bother answering or sitting up. A wise choice, because not a second later, his boot comes down on my stomach. I choke and retch, but don’t dare fight back. Not even Knox fights back, and I’m—

“Weak,” Dad snarls, spraying spittle in my face as he looks down at me.

“Every time, every damn time, you let me down. Never fuckin’ pulling your weight.

You think you’re better than us? Too good for your own flesh and blood?

” Another kick, this one to my ribs. I grunt as pain zips through that knife wound Riley gave me earlier.

Dad grinds the sole of his boot in when he sees my reaction.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood, but a groan slips out of me anyway.

“You still think you’re gonna get out of here someday?

” he goads me. “Think the world’s gonna have any mercy for a pathetic little fuck like you?

‘ Oh no, I didn’t kill anybody, officer.

I just watched and hacked up the bodies afterward.

I’m innocent, I swear.’ ” He laughs. Another kick rolls me onto my stomach, and I lay there, cheek pressed against a smear of blood on the floorboard.

“But now you’ve got a girl in the basement, huh?

Not so high and mighty anymore. All those morals went out the window when you saw some hot young thing you wanna fuck, eh?

” He kneels on my back, grabs a fistful of my hair so he can yank my head up and whisper in my ear.

“You’re just like us. You ain’t never getting out of here, boy. ”

I focus on breathing. In, out. Don’t react to the pain, don’t react to the truth in his words, and it’ll be over faster.

“Dad.”

Dad releases his grip on my hair, letting my head thump back to the floor. He looks up to see Knox in the doorway. I stay as still as I can, trying to breathe with Dad’s weight still pressing on my spine.

“What do you want?” Dad snaps.

Knox’s face is impossible to read as he looks down at us. He points a thumb over his shoulder, toward the kitchen. “This one’s still alive.”

My pulse jumps. Caleb is...? Fuck. I should’ve started with him instead of Felix.

The pressure on my back recedes as Dad stands, and I suck in a deep lungful of air. He heads into the kitchen. I lay still for a moment, trying to breathe through the pain, before slowly lifting myself up.

Every movement hurts, sending fresh jolts of pain through my aching body.

I gingerly touch my ribs. The knife wound is bleeding again, and the area is tender.

There’s a bruise forming on my cheek and my mouth is coppery from where my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek.

But no broken ribs, or nose, or teeth. I got off easy this time, thanks to Knox’s interruption.

My brother is still leaning against the doorway, watching me. He gives me a once-over before heading back to the kitchen, and I limp after him.

Dad is crouched over Caleb. The skinny stoner’s face is a ruin, but Knox is right — when I look for it, there’s the slightest rise and fall of his chest. My stomach lurches; I know what that means. I could’ve spared him if I noticed first and had the guts to end it quickly.

Dad straightens up. There’s a familiar hunger in his eyes. “Bring him out to the barn.”

Caleb’s thin body is easy to drag across the blood-soaked kitchen tiles, as long as I don’t look at his face. Knox helps once we’re out in the yard, lifting his legs while I take his arms. We haul him onto the table where I butchered Felix and use the straps to secure him.

Knox and I are halfway back to the house when the screaming starts. I wince. So does my brother, to my surprise.

“Thought you’d be happy,” I mutter. “This all worked out pretty good for you.”

He shoots me a hard look. “Believe it or not, this isn’t how I wanted things to go down. I liked those kids.”

I grimace, tongue the cut inside my cheek. “You just handed one of them over to Dad.”

“Would you rather have him take it out on us?”

My gaze darts to the scar on his cheek. Normally I forget it’s there, but now it seems stark against his skin. I still remember the way he screamed when Dad cut him all those years ago.

“Or the girl?” he prompts.

I shake my head. Maybe he’s right, but it leaves me with a sick feeling in my gut.

But there’s nothing to do now but clean up the mess.

“Let me look at your shoulder when we get inside,” I say, glancing at the knife wound Riley left on him.

He grins, recognizing it as a peace offering. “Sure. She got you too, didn’t she?” He leans over, prodding at the slash in my shirt.

I jerk away. “Barely.”

I’m not sure if it’s true, but I don’t want him tending to me and seeing all the scars under my shirt. I’ll stitch my own wounds. After that there’s blood to mop, belongings to burn, a car to crush in the scrapyard.

And then I’ll have to face the girl in the basement.

?