Page 16 of Make Me Scream (Visceral #2)

PERIS

The moment he steps through the door, I’m on him, hands gripping his slim biceps, nose nearly bumping against his.

“She didn’t fucking touch you, did she?” I pull back slightly when he sniffles, my eyes roving over every inch of him. “Why are you crying? What the fuck did she do?”

Abel huffs and tries to push me away. “Jesus, Peri. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” I balk. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” I growl.

“I’m fine, ” he snaps, blonde brows furrowed, ever the brat.

“You’re not. Your eyes are glassy, and the tip of your nose is red.”

“It’s cold out.”

“Not just from walking to the car. Tell me. Now.”

“Peris, seriously—" his voice grows colder— “back the fuck off.” I reach up and shove my finger into his chest, hammering it into his sternum, forcing him back into the door he just walked through. His breathing shortens as I close in on him, pissed the fuck off.

“Don’t start with me. I’ve been out of my mind for hours. You can’t answer your phone?”

The widening of his eyes tells me all I need to know.

“You didn’t even think to check it, did you?”

“Peris…”

“You’re in so much trouble, runt.”

“Abel!”

We both turn at the sound of Ma’s voice. Abel springs away from me the best he can, but I don’t leave him much room to do so.

“Jesus, Peris. Let him breathe. ” Ma moves between us and pushes me back gently.

I go, albeit against my will, my eyes never leaving Abel.

His stray from mine as Ma envelops him into a hug—but never for long.

And every time those silver orbs find their way back to mine, my own darken, making his breath hitch and my groin tighten.

“Wow, it smells so good in here,” Abel says as we make our way into the kitchen, Mom’s arm slung over his shoulders, refusing to let him go. It makes my chest ache a little too deeply.

“Thanks, honey! Everything should be done within… probably the next hour, I think. I hope you’re hungry,” she says optimistically.

“Hell yeah.”

“Awesome. So, tell me how it went.”

“Oh.” His face drops, and I turn my back, refusing to acknowledge his pain—because if I see his pain, I’m going to lose it. “Well, I don’t have to transfer.”

“Transfer?” I ask as I grab a pop out of the fridge.

“From Ardent. I get to stay, at least. Lucy lives on the other side of town, so I won’t be too far away.” His voice sounds so small, so unlike him.

“Awe, well, that’s good!” Ma says, trying to sound so fucking chipper, I wince at the volume of her voice and so does Abel. “Sorry,” she says with a half-smile. “Too much. Got it.”

“Just a little.” He laughs.

“How was the visit, though? Did it go well?” When Abel hesitates, she reaches across the table to grab one of his scarred hands. “Only if you want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s fine. It was… weird, I guess? We argued after a while. Well, I yelled, and then, it got awkward, and we left.” He rubs the back of his neck with a dry chuckle that makes my skin tingle.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry…”

His defenses are back up already. I watch them close over his face like a veil I know all too well. “Don’t be. It is what it is.”

“I know, but it’s still impossible. And after how quickly everything has changed for you?—”

“No offence, doc, but I really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Ma curls her lips inward, like she’s fighting not to say what I know she wants to. Instead, she nods. “Yes, of course. You like turkey, right?”

“Turkey’s cool.”

I meet Mom’s gaze for a moment before she laughs loudly. “Right. So, we’ve got that, mashed potatoes, corn, stuffing, deviled eggs, and French silk pie. How does that sound?”

Abel balks. “Jesus Christ, are you feeding an army?” He kicks his feet up on the table, still clad in his stained canvas shoes, the fucking brat.

She leans down to whisper in his ear with a conspiratorial grin, “I think you underestimate just how much Peris can eat.”

“Hey, I heard that,” I shout, feigning indignance as I walk into the pantry to grab the potatoes.

“Would you rather I lie?” she teases.

“Yes.”

“Liar!”

“We’re all liars, aren’t we?” Abel says out of nowhere, eyes locked coldly on mine, stopping us all in our tracks. The tension grows, and I swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the bag in my hand.

“Abel… are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” he says with finality, dropping his feet to the floor with a loud clomp. “I’m gonna go change. I feel disgusting.” And with that, he stalks out of the kitchen, every muscle in his neck twitching.

“What was that?” Ma asks the second he disappears down the hall.

“Couldn’t tell you,” I mutter as I drop the bag of potatoes, drumming my fingers on the counter as I stare through the doorway.

“Should I go talk to him?” Mom ponders, worrying her bottom lip.

“Probably. But maybe not. He seems pissy.”

“True,” she concedes, blowing out a breath that makes strands of her brown hair flutter around her face. “But I don’t want him to think he’s alone. I’ll be right back.”

And now I’m by myself, and it’s horribly alone inside my head. My thoughts echo and recoil, all bouncing back to the one and only person that’s been on my mind since he delved right into my life and decided to never leave.

My foster brother… who’s now almost not my foster brother.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I never thought I’d see the day I’d hate Abel Silver leaving my house, but it’s become his home.

He’s become a part of our lives, and now, he’s being ripped away by some druggie bitch who thinks she has the right to just take whatever she wants away from us—I suck in a deep breath, and reach back to grip the counter, fingers curling around the lip of it so tightly, my fingers turn white from the loss of blood.

It isn’t until they start to throb that I release my hold and my breath simultaneously, only to repeat it all over again, needing something but having nothing.

And then it occurs to me…

I’m obsessing over him. Abel.

A boy.

The boy who tried to ruin my reputation and my life. Countless times.

And I let him. I wanted him to—and I still do.

Fucking hell.

A chuckle erupts from between my lips, dark and humorless. More bubble up, growing louder and more boisterous until I’m laughing loudly and chaotically, tears pooling and streaming down my face, marking my shame to burn with me.

I’m obsessed with Abel, and he doesn’t give two fucks about me.

The thought only makes me laugh harder, and I clutch my middle, trying to stifle the sharp pains bursting from my ribs.

“Peris, what has gotten into you?” Mom asks, startling me.

I look up from my bent over position, barely able to see Mom through my blurry vision.

“It’s all just too funny, Ma,” I tell her, choking up.

My nose burns as more tears spring forth.

“It’s pathetic.” Mom strides over quickly and pulls me into her arms, wrapping them around me and holding tight.

For being much smaller than me, she holds her own, and I’ve never felt more secure than I do when she’s hugging me.

“What’s going on, buddy? You can talk to me,” she says softly, knowingly. Goosebumps break out across my skin, and I feel myself shaking my head instinctively.

“Nothing. I’m just so tired of it all. The changes and these random people… you know how I am with change…” I say.

She nods. “I know, baby. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you—all of this back and forth, especially inside the house —but we’ll get it all straightened out. I promise it’ll be okay.” Mom curls her fingers into my hair and gently rubs my scalp. I could genuinely cry—but I won’t.

I nod, smiling weakly. “I’m worried about him,” I mumble into her shoulder.

“I know, sweetheart. Me, too,” she says, then softer, “Me, too.”

“How is he?” I ask as I pull away, sniffling softly.

“He’s getting changed, like he said. He’s putting on a good front, but I think he’s struggling. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. And to be an adult but not have any legal control yet…”

“So you believe him—about being eighteen?” I ask, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms.

“Of course, I do.”

I sigh. “Me, too.”

“That’s partly what makes this so difficult. Knowing but not being able to do anything about it. Plus, with who she is…”

“Yeah,” I mutter, feeling the hatred simmering in my veins all over again. Ma must share the sentiment because we share a similar look before she glances away and grabs the bag of potatoes.

“Anyway. I’m going to get started on these so we can get this amazing dinner going. I’m determined for it to be great,” she says, like she’s giving herself a pep-talk. I almost laugh, but that would get me smacked, and I’d rather not.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, needing something to do.

“I’m gonna cook to clear my head, so I guess go do whatever it is you need to do to do the same, okay?”

“Okay, Ma.” I smile at her, but before I walk away, I knock twice on the wall.

“Yeah?” she says.

“I love you, you know.”

Tears swim in her eyes, and that alone makes me realize I don’t tell her nearly enough. “I love you, too, Peris. So much. Come here.” She wraps me in her arms and squeezes. It’s not enough to take my breath away, but it does anyway.

“You’re my best friend, Ma. I hope you know that.” I mouth the words into the crown of her head. “I couldn’t have survived without you. Thank you.”

“You’re making me cry!” she wails, clinging to me with brute strength I didn’t know she was capable of.

“ Oof! ” I huff as she nearly knocks me over. “Damn, woman!”

“All right, go, go!” She sniffles loudly. “Before I start crying all over again.” She pushes me back with a smile. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you, Ma. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Whatcha doing?” I drawl as Abel opens the bathroom door.

“Jesus!” he screeches, rearing back. He throws his hands up to his chest and grips his shirt tightly. “What the hell are you doing? ” he hisses.

“Asking you a question,” I drawl.

“Well, I can hear that,” he sasses back.

“So?”

“I was using the bathroom?” he says, gesturing to the toilet behind him, waggling a brow. “Clearly.”

“It smells like smoke in here. And the fan is on,” I deadpan.

Abel stiffens. “You’re imagining things.”

I inhale deeply. “Oh, am I?” I crowd him, walking him backward, back into the bathroom with each small step forward I make until I’m able to close the bathroom door behind us. I wrinkle my nose at the smell that assaults my senses.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask, face twisted in disgust.

“Chemicals,” he mutters.

“What kind of chemicals?”

“The kinds that probably shouldn’t be fucking burnt.”

“Burnt?” I parrot, glancing down around him to the counter, where I notice the faintest traces of ash clinging to the porcelain. I swipe my fingers through it and watch it cling to my skin like the softest satin.

“Well, it’s easy to see you didn’t burn your skin this time,” I say nonchalantly.

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Abel drawls sarcastically, and I shoot him a smirk as I lift my finger in front of his face and drag it down his cheek.

“So, what did you burn, runt?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He shakes his head.

“Liar.”

“Like I said,” he bites out.

“Hmm. I don’t like liars.”

“Most people don’t.” His jaw works a million miles a minute as he grinds his teeth.

“But you do.”

“Yeah. It’s real,” is all he says.

I lean in until my lips brush Abel’s ear. “You know what’s more real than lying, puppy? The truth… That’s some scary shit right there.” He shivers, and I take my shot. “What did you burn?”

“Her.”

“Her?...”

Oh. And then, it clicks. An old, yellowed photograph of Abel’s mom on a stained twin mattress, holding an infant Abel in her arms. A photograph that was the only proof of Abel’s real birthday… October eleventh.

“Abel…”

“Don’t, Peris,” he snaps, then drops his head. “Just fucking don’t.”

“What did you do?”

He jerks away from me, eyes alive and so vivid. “What did I just say?!”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted—I want to know what you did!”

“You know damn well what I did!” he shoves me, and his body against mine feels like a livewire. I put my hand around his neck and shove him against the wall.

“Why?!”

“Because I fucking hate her, and I can’t stand the fucking sight of her!” he croaks, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to turn his head away from me.

“That was the only proof you had, Abel,” I argue, all the fight having left me at his admission. I’m not sure why I care so much.

“Yeah, a lot of good it’s done me over the years. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It might some day.”

“Some day has come and gone, and now, I’ve just gotta fucking survive.”

“Survive?” I question, drawing back to try and catch his eyes. When Abel avoids them readily, I reach down and grab his chin in a punishing hold to whisper against his lips. “What the fuck do you mean ‘survive’?” My chest squeezes.

“I mean exactly what I fucking said.” He shoves me away with surprising force. “Jesus, Peris, you sound so fucking stupid sometimes, and I know you can’t be.”

I rear back, my hand falling from his neck as my eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s think about it, shall we? I’m going back to live with my drug addict mommy in a shitty, run-down apartment. We’re not all shitting sunshine and rainbows. The stability I have here, all the cushion and comfort, is going to be gone.

“I’m going to have to go back to living how I was before I ever met you or your mother,” he says bluntly.

I blink at him slowly for a moment, confusion pulling my brows close before his words bring back flashes of memories I wish I could forget—and the thought of anyone touching him again makes me sick. “The fuck you are,” I growl.

Abel just rolls his eyes. “You don’t really have a say-so here, Peris. You get to live your nice, comfy life, doing whatever you want.”

Steam rolls out of my nostrils. “I refuse to let anyone ? — ”

“My body is mine, Peris.” And with that, he shoves past and out of the bathroom, chin held high, even as tears stain his pale, flushed face.

I stare at the empty space he left—the one in front of me and the one inside me—feeling surprisingly hollow and cold, despite the heat flowing through the vents. And when I catch my reflection as I turn to leave, I laugh vacantly at the person who stares back at me.