Page 117 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

My eyes widen; the white around my irises on full display. My stomach churns at his foul words. “You’re sick.”

Dad takes a step back, turning away from me. His hands run through his gray hair as he lets out a long breath. He picks up the stack of papers, looks over them for a mere second and turns back to me.

“I arranged for you to go back to college. You will do as you are told. Transportation is provided to and from school. You will have an escort to ensure you don’t run your little ass elsewhere. Connecticut State College is going to work under the circumstances of your traumatic experiences and transfer you closer. That is what all these forms are. You must sign two spots, and the rest is taken care of.”

I’m going to be sick. “I’m not signing anything.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “That is where you are wrong. You will sign those papers or deal with the consequences.”

My arms wrap around my stomach. I hug myself tight, hoping to settle the nausea that’s working up my throat. “You don’t care about me at all. You’re… you’re insane. Mental. You deserve to be locked away for the rest of your life to rot like the cold-hearted prick that you are.”

Without warning, Dad moves so fast toward me that I don’t get a chance to dodge him. His head rises, and his hard fist connects with the side of my head, under my eye, sending a sharp pain to course through my skull. I stumble back, hitting the wall behind me, and slip down onto the floor. My vision blurs momentarily as the pain radiates through my skull. Warmth creates a path down my cheek. I use the back of my hand to wipe it away, to notice its blood.

I look into my father’s cold, dark eyes in complete shock. My face stings. No matter how hard I try to push my way through this… I can’t. There’s no point in fighting back the tears that fall desperately. If my own father can watch his wife be slaughtered to death, and count each last breath taken… there is no hope for me.

There never was.

I shift my weak body, scrambling to my feet, but the loud fling of the door crashing into the wall has me dropping back down onto the floor in terror.

“Back away from her.”

My stomach drops at the familiar voice.

Alec.

No. No. No. He can’t be here.

I peek over at him, watching him walk through the doorway. My father doesn’t move a muscle. Instead, he laughs at the sight of Alec. My lungs squeeze when my eyes drift to Alec’s hands. He holds a silver pistol steady in them, pointing straight at Dad.

I recognize that gun.

It’s the one from Dad’s safe that I stole.

We had it this entire time in Alec’s apartment… I thought he had gotten rid of it. Defeat rushes over me. We could have protected ourselves. I could have managed to stay away from Dad when he came to get me.

“Son, put that thing down before you hurt someone.”

Dad pulls my attention. Worry flickers through me. But looking at Alec’s confidence brings me something else that I can’t explain.

Alec doesn’t look back. Not even a sliver. He keeps his eyes on my father, observing him. “The only person that’ll be hurt from now on is you.” Then he says to me, “Summer, get behind me.”

And I do. I hurry behind Alec.

“He doesn’t have his gun on him,” I whisper as low as possible. I know he heard me—the way his foot shifted slightly to be certain I stayed told me so.

Dad laughs, slipping his hands into the pocket of his slacks. “I bet you have never shot a gun before.”

He’s toying with Alec.

Alec tilts his head, his lips curling upward. “No?” He turns his arm and pulls the trigger. I jump from the loud noise. A bullet flies across the room, shattering the grandfather clock. “I guess you don’t know me all that well.”

My father’s eyes darken. “You’ll pay for that,” he grits.

Alec cocks the gun again, aiming it at Dad’s head. My heart beats heavily, and fear slithers across my entire body.

“The only thing I’m going to regret is not doing this sooner,” Alec spits.

“Alec,” I whisper.

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