Page 68 of Vicious Sentiments

His face crumples. “You don’t want to stay here. We have to clean up and move the body. Can I pick you up?”

Thebody.Mydad’sbody. He’s so nonchalant about it. Does this happen all the time?

“Okay, Buttercup. I’m going to carry you. Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t worry about anything.” He then shifts and scoops me up, blanket and all. I wince against the pain in my side, but it’s nothing compared to what it should be.

I angle against his chest, burying my face in his scent, trying to blot out the smell of coppery blood. I hate that I left the back door open and it’s mixed with salty sea scent, tainting it.

Julian doesn’t take me to my room, instead setting me gently on the chaise in Margo’s room.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Just rest.” He presses his lips to my forehead and holds them there, tucking a hand under my hair and cupping the nape of my neck.

He goes to leave the room and I croak, surprised by the sound of my own voice. “What are you going to do?”

He turns, his brows pulled down.

“With…” I stammer. “The body…”

He tilts his head, a soft and reassuring smile on his lips. “Don’t worry, no one will find it.”

A little while later, Margo positions herself next to me and I flinch. I hadn’t even noticed her come into the room. She’s got a small stack of clothes on her lap with a plate on top. There’s buttered toast with peanut butter and a few strawberries.

“How you doing, Peach?” She sets the pile next to me and puts herknuckles under my chin, lightly tilting my face. Her eyes examine the throbbing place on my jaw and she frowns.

“Bastard,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s change your clothes.” She moves the plate. “We can’t have any evidence. You’d be surprised how far microscopic blood splatters can go.”

I don’t get a say as she starts unfurling the blanket from my limbs, pushing it aside. She’s resolute, sure in what she’s doing as if this is protocol, and I’m a mental patient. I guess I am though, as I just let her do what she wants, no clarity of mind.

She sweeps my hair back, giving it a few loving strokes before lifting my shirt over my head. Her eyes are business-like until they freeze on my side. Her lips screw up in anger and she takes a deep breath.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” She scoots off the chaise, pushing herself up from her knees. “Stand up, Peach. I’m going to have to wrap that.” She leaves me and goes into the bathroom.

I obediently get up and look at the damage. The bruise that was once yellowing and healing is now fresh again. Blue to the point of black and encompassed by a deep red. It hurts to breathe all over again, but I tell myself this is the last time I ever have to hurt again. I hope.

Margo comes back with a thick roll of brown elastic bandage and slips her arms under mine. She wraps it loosely around me, huffing with exertion and I feel bad for her, having to do this for me.

If I had never come here then she wouldn’t have a dead body in her kitchen and she wouldn’t have to bother taking care of me.

When she finishes wrapping me, she pulls a shirt over my head and makes me switch pants, even my socks.

She motions me to sit back down and urges me to eat. I pick up the toast to appease her but I don’t take a bite.

“Listen.” She grabs my knee and catches my eyes. “You’re young. Which means you’re resilient. You’re going to bounce back fromthis. But in the meantime, you have to remember that. I wasn’t much older than you when my late husband had to pull me out of a similar situation.” She looks away as if remembering something but recovers quickly, tapping my knee.

“I know what it feels like for you right now, but you don’t have to worry. You’re with us now and we’re going to take care of you. At your age, I didn’t have anyone and I think I managed pretty well. You’ll be okay.”

I picture Margo at my age. Was she really broken like me? Did Luca have to kill whoever was hurting her? Did she have to worry about a body and the implications that go with it? My dad was my baggage and the suitcase spilled out all over. The last thing I want is for my new family to have to carry my weight. What about Cape? He may already have thirty names on his list but I don’t want him to go down for my weakness.

“Margo,” I find my voice. “I don’t want Cape to get in trouble.”

A knowing smile plays on her face. “Oh, Peach. He’s not going to get in trouble.”

“But—”

“It’s not like the movies. There’s only three things that could take us down.” She straightens and counts on her fingers. “DNA, imagery, and testimony.” Her eyes flicker on the last word, and I can tell what she’s thinking. That my testimony could ruin everything. But she doesn’t need to worry. All Cape did was protect me, and I would never condemn him for that.

“Also, they need a body for murder. And they won’t find one.” She dusts her hands and I realize that Margo too is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The whole family operates on the guise of normalcy but they are far from it. Which makes them even more dangerous. At least I’m on the inside, I think.

I spend the night in Margo’s room, hidden away from Marneywho whined at the door, begging to watch a movie with me, but Margo shooed her away. She then rummaged through a drawer in her bathroom and gave me a pill.For the pain, she said, and I didn’t hesitate to take it. Within twenty minutes, the searing ache in my side that I battled with at every breath subsided to a dull annoyance. My mind got hazy. It definitely wasn’t a run of the mill Tylenol.

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