Page 45 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“He knows her parents. She said he’s all she’s got left.”

My bed creaks as Reuben rocks forward, then back. Forward, then back.

“He kept touching her.”

Shit.

That’s why he came busting in here when he knows better than to expose our relationship like this. What he saw must have seriously unhinged him.

“Tell me.”

Rube puts his head in his hands. “Holding her like she was his motherfucking child,” he whispers.

I slide my hands under the blankets. At night, when the temperature drops, the pain in my ankles worsens. I draw my legs into a cross-legged seat and rub at the tendons, willing away their wretched ache.

“And she let him, Zach.” Rube’s whisper gains strength. “She let him put his sick, filthy hands on her like it meant nothing.”

Christ, now my wrists are starting to ache too.

I need to cut this short. Rube’s intensity gets to me sometimes. Makes it hard to stay focused. And I need to stay focused. My brothers depend on my stability. If it weren’t for me, they’d still be scattered to the winds.

I brought us back together.

I forged their white-hot hatred into malleable steel.

I’ll be the one to lead the charge on that fateful day. The one Cassius accused me of wanting to postpone.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

But I know what life is like. It’s when you think you have everything under control that it all implodes.

For the Lord watches over the path of the godly, but the path of the wicked leads to destruction.

“We have to get rid of her,” Rube mutters sullenly. “Let’s do it tonight. Me and you. I know what room she’s in—I checked.”

Fuck.I surge forward, going onto my knees on the bed, and grab hold of Rube’s shoulder. “Listen to me.”

His muscles turn to stone under my hand.

“Reuben, listen to me.”

Eventually, he turns to face me. Slowly, reluctantly, but he turns.

“We can’t kill her.”

“Yes we can,” he states in a dead monotone. “It’ll be easy.”

“It’ll draw attention to us.”

“But she’ll be gone.”

“Rube. You’re not listening.”

“Better she’s gone than she’s with him.”

Jesus, I’m losing him.

I get up and go to stand in front of him. He tilts back his head. I’m casting deep shadows over his face. “We don’t know all the facts, Reuben. Remember the facts. They’re important. More important than feelings.” I press my hand to his chest. His flesh beneath his shirt is surprisingly warm, despite his cold heart.

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