Page 35

STITCHES

Delilah

16 Years Old

S moke thickens the night air as the rough wood of the beach house scrapes my back while I attempt to escape Asher’s hot breath against my neck, and I stretch my head to the side as he pants against me. “Stop being a tease. I’ll be quick.”

I nearly laugh out loud but I’m aware of our parents sitting around the fire on the private beach. Their conversations are boring and fucking tedious, just like Asher, who pushes his hand between my legs. Again.

So I bring my knee up as fast as I can, aiming for his dick that he wants me to touch so badly. His nasty breath fully hits the side of my neck, and he slumps into me. The hand that was on my shoulder, keeping me in place, slaps against the wooden cladding in an attempt to scare me into doing what he wants or draw attention to us as he bites into my shoulder to dull his scream. His teeth trap the muscle, making me squirm in pain, and I grab his hair to try and get him off as I choke out, “Get the fuck off me.”

If our parents find out that we’re having issues—namely, I’m having an issue with the idiot—they’ll end up getting involved. I don’t need my mom threatening to send me away to my grandparents’ again until I learn how to be a good wife when I’m a fucking teenager.

I have to remind myself of my timescale. Two more years, then I’ll legally be an adult and free of them all.

Warm liquid drips onto my shoulder and Asher unlatches his teeth from my neck. I bring my hand up to cover the throbbing spot as I turn my head. The warm drips continue, and I watch the faraway flames glisten against the tip of the jagged glass sticking out of his hand. It’s pierced his skin and I have to bite my tongue from telling him that he’s a fucking idiot for forgetting that it was there. His rage has only hurt him instead of scaring me into doing what he wants. It’s always the same shit—punch a wall, throw a dish, drive like a fucking lunatic, and now slap his hand against the siding of the beach house.

It’s his own fault for sticking the shards through the slats earlier in the day when he smashed the mirror. But he’s in pain and even if I don’t see our relationship going beyond our sixteen-year-old selves, I still care about him, so I gently hold his wrists. “Come on, we’ll get my dad to drive you to the hospital.”

My shoulder slams into the wall as he grabs my jaw and roughly pulls his hand back. Blood runs down his palm and he has enough sense in his rage to keep it elevated while he spits, “I fucking own you now.” He leans further into me, and his fingers dig into my cheek as his voice darkens. “Or I’ll slit your throat and tell everyone you attacked me first.”

The fire crackles and my mother’s yippy laugh floats over it, showing she’s already passed her limit of one bottle of wine. She’d rather kill someone than allow them to see her relaxed, so she’s definitely drunk and I don’t trust her when she’s sober, so I watch them from the corner of my eye. My father isn’t drunk, and his brandy is untouched as he rotates the tumbler so the liquid swirls. It’s his tell when he’s pissed and I’m officially out of options where they’re concerned.

Asher’s parents actually give a fuck about each other, and they’re hugged to each other’s sides. But it’s the odd man out who sits staring at the waves that makes my decision. Kane is the only person who ever gave a shit about me, and he hates me for dating Asher. He’ll hate me even more if he thinks I attacked his idiotic brother.

So I nod and swallow back the curse sitting on the tip of my tongue. Asher follows my line of sight, and he hisses as he swipes his bloody hand down the length of my face. The viscous liquid clings to my hair, my brow, and lashes as he allows his insecurity to show.

“Don’t fucking look at my reflection again.”

Last summer he stopped calling his brother by his name after he went hunting with my father like a callous prick, and he came back refusing to call Kane anything other than a reflection. I don’t know what the deeper meaning is. It’s a strange thing to call someone, even if you’re twins, and Kane always reacts to it like it’s an order. I do know that it’s created a divide between the twins.

Grabbing his hand, I squeeze and ignore the way his fingers tighten against my cheeks. “He’s not your mirror image anymore, is he?”

My smugness earns me a slap, which I don’t react to. That’s another new thing since his summer hunting trip too. But like my mother said when she saw my red cheek and the handprint blooming against my skin, it’s my own fault.

I agree with her, not because of my behavior like she said, but it’s my fault because I should have chopped his fucking hand off the first time he ever raised it against me.

I dig my nails into the wound between his thumb and forefinger, making him wince and grit his teeth as he tries not to scream. My voice is low and there’s no hint of a lie as I say, “Touch me again and I’ll finish what you started.”

My fingers slip against his bloody palm but we call a truce as I let go and he takes a step back. My jaw aches from how hard he was holding my face, but I don’t touch it with his nasty ass blood on my skin. We both watch the other from the corners of our eyes as we walk around the beach house and take the ramp to enter. The light creams and relaxing blues don’t add the intended softness when it’s a show home, like everything else my parents collect. Little perfect properties to fill their cold dead hearts because they’re only capable of destroying human connections.

Rather than disturb them and be questioned about the blood on us both, I guide Asher to my bedroom and go to the empty room opposite to collect my dad’s hospital kit. He hasn’t practiced medicine in years, but his bag is always stocked, and each house has the full kit.

The weird twat used to sit us down and force us to practice sutures on orange peels, then grade them. Scarlet always did an invisible stitch of her own name and then she’d lie to me and say it was a magic trick when peeling the fruit.

I pause in the middle of the room at the thought of my sisters. Ruby would kick Asher’s ass for putting his hands on me, then she’d do the same to me for listening to our parents, but as much as I’m glad they both got away, I can’t help the resentment of them leaving me here, alone with them.