Page 2 of A Twisted Gift

The boys are drinking and watching football in the living room, so we slip past them with ease. We have to take the long way through the house to avoid Father’s office, and when we get to the garage door, Marissa breathes a sigh of relief.

“How are we going to get past security?” I ask quietly. Father always has at least two guards at the gate and then two more who patrol the perimeter.

“I’ll tell them I’m going out to visit friends from high school.” She winces. “You’ll have to be in the trunk, otherwise they’ll see you.”

High school.It’s one of the many things I was always secretly jealous of Marissa for. When we were younger, she would teach me what she learned in school, but by the time we were teens,she was too busy to make the time. And then she left, off to college and then California, where she lives now.

“I don’t understand. Why do I have to leave?” I ask.

“You want to stay?” She gives me a bewildered look.

“I… I’m not sure.”

Truth be told, I’m not sure what’s outside of the walls I grew up in. I’ve read books about what the world is like, but Father always says they’re unrealistic and that’s why he’s so selective about what he lets me read and watch. He says the real world is too dangerous for a girl like me.

Staying here, though, means spending my nights locked in my bedroom and only having the staff to talk to. No friends, only the occasional visit from Marissa, and enduring Father’s hateful glares whenever he’s home.

Could whatever is out there possibly be worse than that? Thinking about it has me faltering. Father has told me what it’s like. It’s not safe.

Marissa’s hand slips into mine. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then come with me.”

After hesitating, I nod. She’s my older sister. I really, truly do trust her.

I follow her out into the garage. It’s large, housing all of Father’s cars, plus my half-siblings’ vehicles. Marissa drags me to hers and helps me into the trunk, throwing my pillowcase in, too. Just as she’s shutting me in, though, Father’s voice echoes throughout the garage.

“Marissa? What’re you doing?”

She slams the trunk shut, and I have to strain to hear their conversation.

“Nothing. Just headed into town for drinks with a few friends. We all wanted to catch up.”

“What’s in the trunk?”

“Presents.”

“Didn’t look like presents to me.”

“Well, what else would I—”

“Open the trunk, Marissa.”

“No—no, Daddy,please—”

The trunk pops open, and I curl myself up into the tightest ball possible, praying that if I make myself small enough, he won’t realize it’s me. But his hand wraps around my arm, yanking me up with such force that it feels like he’s going to tear my joints apart. I hit my head on the car, and Marissa cries out in worry.

“You’ll hurt her! Daddy, stop!”

“What the hell were you planning on doing with her?” Father demands. “You know we need her for tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night.Father’s annual Christmas party. Lydia used to plan it before she passed, and now he holds it in her memory. But why would they need me for it? I’m never allowed to attend.

The door to the house opens, and Danny and Benjamin burst through.

“We heard yelling. What’s going on?” Benjamin strides over, his gaze bouncing between me and Marissa. “What’s she doing outside of her room after dinner?”

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