Page 5 of Ruthless God

Lyrical should be picking out a movie for us to watch, but when I walk into the open space living room, there aren’t any signs of her. She should be home now, unless she stops by somewhere. I grab my phone from my pocket, pulling up the GPS tracker, and the red dot is at a standstill. I zoom in on the map, and realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

The area where the car accident was.

My heart drops in my chest as I rush out the door.

By the time I make it to the scene of the accident, the cops and fire trucks are already gone, so I rush to the nearest hospital which is five minutes away. My heart hammers in my chest as I call Bailey and Lyrical, hoping that there is a mistake and my GPS is wrong.

I don’t think I could survive if anything happened to them.

When I pull up to the underground parking lot of the hospital, I throw my expensive car into park. As soon as I unbuckle my seat belt, my phone rings, and my mother’s name is displayed across the screen, so I tap the Answer button.

“Revi.” My mother never calls me by my nickname. “It’s Bailey and Lyrical. They were in a terrible accident.”

My heart breaks into a million pieces, and it feels as if I have boulders on my chest. Clenching my shirt, I breathe in deep and exhale loudly.

“Are they okay?”

“Come to the ER.”

The line goes dead, and I practically jump out of the car and head inside.

My mother not answering my question tells me enough to know this is bad.

Very bad.

Adrenaline spikes in my blood, and I feel lightheaded as I arrive at the front desk. The nurse directs me to the waiting room, and my mother’s face is wet with tears. My father has hisarms wrapped around her, then I see Lyrical’s parents holding each other, crying, as her mother apologizes to my parents.

I walk up to my mother and pat her on the back, not acknowledging my father’s glare. We never got along, and I hate the bastard.

She falls to the ground, continuing to sob, and snot streaks down her nose.

“What happened?”

My father grabs me by the neck, yanks me to the nearest bathroom, telling every man to get the fuck out, then he locks the door.

Stomping up to me, he slaps me across the face. Pain shoots up to my forehead, and I rub my cheek.

I’m not going to back down and he’s not about to make me feel even shittier than I already do.

I’m a split image of him and I hate it. We both have the same slender body, our right eye is brown and the other eye is hazel, and our hair is black, but I purposely dyed mine white so I don’t look like him. I gave myself the nickname Snow and I refuse to be called Revi because it’s also his first name. I hate my father with every fiber in my bones. The only reason why I haven’t tried to kill him is because he’s protected by the government. There are some things I can’t get away with.

His Italian loafers touch my shoes, then he balls up his fist as if he’s about to strike me again. “What was Lyrical and Bailey doing at your party with dangerous men?”

I say nothing. I can’t say anything, but guilt eats at me like a fucking disease. It’s my job to protect them.

Before I can answer, he punches me in the gut, and I bend over as the pain travels through my chest. When I try to punch him in the face, he counters it, placing his hand around my throat and squeezing, effectively cutting off my airway.

“You were supposed to be watching them, you were supposed to protect them. Bailey is dead, and Lyrical barely made it out alive before someone happened to see the fire.”

This can’t be real.

This can’t be real.

My baby sister is dead.

My father lets me go.

I don’t understand my father’s logic. Why is he blaming me for the accident? But it shouldn’t surprise me; he has blamed me for shit that’s beyond my control ever since I was little.

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