Page 85 of Ready Or Not

I glance at Rachel, realizing I’ve been thinking about that ‘do not think’ list. Fuck! I try to cover my ass. “You mean besides being a giant dick and keeping both of us captive?”

Rachel narrows her gaze. It’s like she can see through me, so I double down. “That should be enough, little deer. Feeling a bit of Stockholm?”

Rachel crosses her arms. “No. I just…why do you hate him so much?”

I frown. “Where do we start?” WheredoI start? Shit, my no-no list has me all distracted. I clear my throat. “Manson stood up for my mom. He told me I couldn’t kill her.”

Rachel frowns.

Okay, yeah, there’s the anger again. “He forced me to stay in their home until I was 18. Threatened me with the cops. Has obsessively stalked me, killed my fuck buddies, and told me whoIcan and can’t kill. Namely, I can’t kill anyone. Even if they deserve it.” I fish the clip in deeper. “And he killed my dog.”

My hands shake. Remembering Pup leaves a sour taste in my mouth. But, I feel the lock disengage on one side.

I glance up at Rachel, and she’s looking at me with her mouth open.

I scoff, turning the paperclip the other way. “That surprises you? So heisgetting into your head. I knew you were easy to manipulate, but damn.”

At this point, I’m not sure if I’m talking to her or to me.

Rachel glares at me.

With some careful maneuvering, I hear the lock click on the other side. I slide my wrist free.

I need to hurry.

At the idea of leaving Rachel alone, I feel a twinge.

“Come with me.” The words come out before I can process them.

Rachel’s eyes dart to mine. I hold her stare.

“Come with me,” I say again, meaning them to sound like a demand, but what comes out sounds more like a…request. An odd feeling fills me. Will she come? And even odder still, why do I want her to come?

What is happening to me?

Rachel holds my gaze with her dark one for so long that my stomach twists. Finally, she opens her mouth, her voice coming out soft, “Riley, I…” she trails off.

I stiffen. That wasn’t a yes. My chest tightens, and rage washes over me. She’s picking him? Him over me?

Betrayal fills me. Is she really that dumb? I back away.

“Riley, please.” Rachel reaches out to me. “If you don’t talk to him, you’ll be stuck playing this game over and over. Always running!”

I stride over to the crawlspace under the house. My skin is hot. Why did I expect her to be different?

“Please, Riley!” She’s pleading now. “Just talk to him.”

“He can talk to my lawyer. Once I serve divorce paperwork.” I move into the crawlspace, too angry to care about the dust and spiderwebs. There’s a faint light coming from the far end of the house, where the opening is. It takes a few good kicks, but I knock it loose and crawl out, ignoring my gut as I leave Rachel behind.

Getting outside is not the elated feeling I expect it to be. It’s just…empty.

I glance around to make sure Manson is gone, and when I don’t see him, I dart toward the street. My house isn’t far, and the morning is cool.

I jog to my house, finding the garage still open and unlocked. Instead of having fun, I’m empty.

I throw things around until I find my old iPad. Unlocking it, I dig into my social media. The farther I dig, the more I remember—things I didn’t want to remember. They fill the empty void that’s usually filled with anger, taking over my body. It gets so bad that my whole body starts shaking, and I have a hard time scrolling.

But I find them. Those three pieces of shit who stole my childhood. Who stole my humanity.

---