Page 11 of Scream Little Sister

I blink and shift my focus to her. “Guess.”

She flinches, her shoulders tensing and touching the bottoms of her ears.

“Mickey,” she whispers.

I nod once.

Madison leaps to her feet and brings me with her. She grabs my hand and drags me across the balcony and inside the house. I stare at the back of her head, confused but not saying a word. Probably because I’m curious about what she’s doing and why she has a determined expression on her face. She leads me upstairs and into her bedroom, and then into her adjoined bathroom.

“Sit.” She pushes me onto the small loveseat chair tucked against the far wall. I don’t know why she has a chair in her bathroom, but I don’t question it. Her family comes from money. Enough said.

I watch Madison as she rummages through the cabinets under the sink until she pulls out cotton balls and Band-Aids.My eyebrows slash down as she approaches me with the items and a tiny smile.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” she says.

I stay silent as she pulls out a cotton ball and dampens it with water, then dabs it beneath my nose. I stare at her face, analyzing her micro-expressions as she concentrates on removing the blood.

Why is she doing this?

Why is she helping me?

No one’s taken care of me.

No one’s cleaned my wounds or softened their touch to ensure they don’t hurt me.

No one cares about me. So why is she pretending to?

My heart thumps faster, banging against my ribs as a swirl of tension and nerves builds in my chest. I catch Madison’s wrist, stopping her from helping me. She meets my gaze, surprise and a hint of fear reflecting in her eyes.

“Ryder?” she whispers.

“Stop pretending.” My grip tightens on her wrist.

She blinks. “Pretending what?”

“Pretending that you care.” My hands tremble, and the strong, foreign emotions tighten my chest.

What is this feeling? I’m supposed to hate her, not feelthis.

It’s tender. Toofuckingtender.

Madison shakes her head. “I’m not pretending. I do care about you, and I meant it when I said I hate what Mickey does to you.”

“You don’t know me.” I swallow hard and bite back the insults clinging to the tip of my tongue. I want to lash out, to push her away from me. To make her hate me and for me not to feel this way about her.

She cares.

She sees me.

She’s seeing too much.

Madison’s gaze softens. “I know you more than you think.”

My face blanks and everything in me shatters. She’s breaking through my barriers, one wall at a time. She knows too much.

A lump forms in my throat, and I shove her away from me. Madison gasps and stumbles backward, giving me enough room to slip past her. I flee out of the bathroom with my legs trembling and heart racing.

“Ryder!” Madison calls from behind.