Page 13 of Blood Ties

Kai

W hen I check on Riley the next morning, her food and water are untouched.

I replace them with fresh ones, take a sip of the water to demonstrate that it’s safe, but she doesn’t even look at me.

At least Riley can’t hear the screaming from the barn down here.

It’s been on and off all night; I could hardly sleep.

Then again, even if it was audible, I’m not sure she’d be aware of it.

There’s a hollow, faraway stare in her eyes.

It reminds me of Momma, curled upstairs in bed. Shit, Momma . I need to feed her later, too...

Dad continues having his fun all day while I tend to my chores. The screams continue as I clean and cook and tend to Momma, trying not to think about Caleb suffering under my father’s tools.

The animals are restless with the noise, too.

The chickens flutter and cluck around their coop; I murmur soothing words as I sprinkle their food.

No food for the pigs, since they’ll be feasting soon, but I keep them company for a while, leaning against the wooden fence while they stare up at me with their weirdly human eyes.

The screaming stops around sunset, leaving behind a deep silence. I breathe a sigh of relief, and when the slam of the front door announces Dad’s return, I go take care of what’s left of Caleb’s body. I wash off the tools one by one: scalpel, saw, screwdriver, chainsaw.

Dinner is quiet. Dad is uncharacteristically content; he doesn’t even complain that the ham is overcooked.

At least he’ll be sated for a while, his urges quieted after glutting himself on pain and fear.

Frank doesn’t show up; he’s off tending to his own sick needs, I’d guess.

Knox eats quickly and heads to his room, grumbling about his sore shoulder.

I push my food around my plate until everyone else leaves. I’ll take the rest to Riley. It’s always a little hard to eat pork after getting rid of a body, anyway. If the pigs eat people and we eat the pigs, then...

Best not to think about it.

Another morning comes, and Riley still hasn’t eaten or drank. She looks weaker. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes glassy, her lips cracked and dry. I try to pour some water into her mouth, but it just dribbles down her chin, leaving streaks down the dust and dried blood covering her torso.

I feel a pang of guilt when I realize how filthy she is.

It’s not going to fix the real problem — that she’s choosing to wither away — but the least I can do is clean her up.

I grab a bucket of water and a rag. Then, crouched in front of Riley, I carefully, painstakingly wipe the grime and blood from her face and neck.

I clean her arms, her hands, each slender finger.

The whole time, her eyes stare off into the distance, unfocused. She is completely limp in my hands.

My breath hitches as I drag the rag lower.

She’s still not wearing anything besides a crop top and underwear, and all that bare skin makes my heart race.

My stare lingers, and I imagine trailing my fingers over her soft skin.

Touching her stomach, her thighs, the lace that covers so little of her. ..

My pants grow uncomfortably tight, and I force myself to look away, hot with both desire and shame.

Knox would say I can do whatever I want with her, but it doesn’t feel right.

It makes me ill that I even thought about it when she’s in this state.

I shut my eyes and force myself to think of other things until my blood cools, and then I return to my task.

When the bucket of water is dark with filth and Riley is as clean as I can get her, I sit back on my heels and study her face. Is she really going to let herself fade like this? Did I save her only to condemn her to a slower death?

It was selfish to bring her here instead of letting Knox kill her. I know that. But I thought she would at least try. I thought she would want to live.

If she doesn’t, then... maybe it would be kinder to do it quickly.

It plays out in my head in a sudden, vivid flash: me grabbing one of the knives from the kitchen, turning the blade on her.

Or maybe I’ll steal Dad’s shotgun. That would be even faster.

I imagine her gratitude when she realizes my intent.

The peace in her eyes as the light dies from them.

I imagine placing the barrel of the gun in my own mouth next, and pulling the trigger.

A sense of calm settles over me. Yes, that... that feels right . Maybe I can do something selfless, for once in my life. Maybe this will give me the courage to finally end it.

I trudge up the stairs with that thought in mind and head toward Dad’s room. Only he and Frank are allowed to touch the guns, but Dad’s out right now and Frank is probably in his shack. The door is likely locked, but maybe...

I climb the stairs to the second floor and walk right into my brother.

Knox stumbles, shoves me in automatic retaliation. “Watch it, dumbass,” he says. Then he catches a look at my face, and stills. He grabs my arm before I can try to sidle past him. “What are you doin’?”

I try to yank my arm out of his grip, but he refuses to let me go. “Nothing.”

“Hm.” He studies my face. Try as I might, he somehow always fucking knows what I’m thinking.

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about killing myself, and not the first time he’s stopped me, either.

After a moment, he throws an arm around my shoulders, squeezes harder than necessary.

“Didn’t you just get done visiting your new plaything? Why so glum? You kill her already?”

“No,” I snap. “Leave it alone, Knox.”

“You fuck her yet?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“That’s a no.” He grins, wolfish. “Well if you ain’t gonna put her to use, I will.” He lets me go and ambles down the stairs.

Panic jolts through me. I hesitate for a moment, considering getting the gun and finishing what I set out to finish. Then I swear and rush after my brother. “Don’t!”

He heads right for the basement door. By the time I follow, he’s standing in front of Riley, arms folded over his chest as he scrutinizes the untouched water and food sitting on the floor.

“Leave her alone,” I say, advancing on him with my hands clenched into fists. He lowers himself to a crouch in front of Riley, ignoring me.

“Didn’t take you for a weakling,” Knox says. “Giving up so easy?”

She stares at nothing, her head lolling back against the wall.

“Can’t have that,” Knox says. “I can always get another girl, but my brother likes you. And he doesn’t like anyone.

” He picks up the bottle of water. Before I can intervene, he grabs Riley’s face with his other hand, squeezing to force her mouth open.

He shoves her head back and pours water into her mouth.

She sputters, trying to twist away, but his hand holds her steady.

“Drink it down like a good girl,” he says.

She spits in his face. I tense, expecting him to hit back, but he only laughs and licks the water off of his lips.

“I said drink ,” he says. He leans forward, pours more water between her lips, and then clamps a hand over her mouth.

She struggles weakly, slapping his chest, but after a few moments she’s forced to swallow.

He pulls back as she chokes and coughs, and looks over his shoulder at me, where I stand frozen.

“That’s how it’s done, kiddo,” he says. “You want a turn?”

I refuse to respond. Shame is hot in my gut, even worse than earlier. I could’ve stopped him — but as usual, I didn’t. I try to tell myself it’s only because he’s keeping her alive.

Smirking, Knox turns back to Riley. She’s sitting up now, glaring at him. I’m relieved to see some of the fire back in her eyes.

Knox picks up the ham sandwich I brought her for breakfast. “You gonna eat on your own, or do I need to force this down your throat, too? ‘Cause I will.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. Then another, and another, the hunger seeming to overtake her the moment her resolve crumbles. Knox chuckles, wipes his hands on his pants, and straightens up.

He clasps me on the shoulder as he walks by. “You’re welcome,” he says.